#just seeing the amount of land that is actual land with water and grass and trees

[emeraldbabygirl]

Watching this ‘Over Wyoming’ show or something and Wyoming seems like such a lovely state. The wide open spaces, grassy fields and mountains, the landscape in general just looks so calm and peaceful even the towns do. I would love to live more in the country side the city is not the place for me and rn where I live they are building more stupid housing developments and tearing up fields and such and it’s just not what it used to be and I would love to be in a place with just open sky and a wonderful view of nature and it seems so calm and beautiful. The city is overrated and so chaotic I’d never wanna live in a place like new york yuck, maybe Southern California?? Idk where it’s less busy. Even Montana and Minnesota seems like cute and neat states to live in. But man Wyoming sounds fabulous AND THE NARRATOR MAN WHEN SPEAKING ABOUT DEVIL’S TOWER WAS LIKE LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF WHEN HE SAID VISITORS SEE DEVIL’S TOWER AND FORGET ABOUT MOUNT RUSHMORE AND IT WAS THE JUDGEMENT IN THAT LAUGH THATS EVERYTHING.

Anyway I can just imagine rolling around in giant grassy fields and just looking up at the sky and just breathing in the fresh air I want that so bad. Man the feeling it open lands and just enjoying the feeling to grass and the wind and feeling free and watching the wild animals that sounds amazing 🥺

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT II

eris vanserra x reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: this one’s really long sorry!! not proofread and I’ve decided it’s going to be incredibly slow burn… send ur thoughts, and if you want to be in the tag list please send an ask instead as I’m more like to see it :)

You make the mistake of breathing in deeply through your nose as you walk through the meadow of the Spring Court, the crisp air and smell of wildflowers tickling its way into your nostril and forcing a sneeze out of you.

The long stems of grass, wet with morning dew and brushing against your calves are like little needles poking your skin. The itching sensation in your nose caused by the sheer amount of flowers makes your eyes water and all you can think about is the relentless urge to sneeze over and over again.

“I don’t think there’s a single living thing within 50 miles that hasn’t scurried away,” Rhysand says, as if he’s commenting on the weather. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even form the words on your lips, the thought vanishes as the tickle flares up in your nose again and another sneeze explodes from you. “I think that was sneeze number nineteen and we’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t help it. How does anyone live amongst all of this greenery without wanting to scratch their faces off?” you ask, sniffling pathetically. “And how long before the others arrive? Surely counting my sneezes is below the duties of a High Lord.”

“Most Fae don’t suffer with your affliction. It’s probably something to do with how you were Made,” Azriel adds, not unkindly. He stands slightly further away from you, Rhys and Nesta and if it weren’t for his shadows, you’d have thought he was too preoccupied with keeping watch to listen in. “And it’s sneeze number eighteen actually.”

Nesta narrows her eyes, peering behind Azriel and then sighing in relief. “Thank the Mother,” she mumbles. “Took them long enough. If I had to hear another word about your damned nose…”

You sniff loudly to make a point. You’re about to reply until you spot the two figures in the distance, walking towards the three of you at a deliberately unhurried pace. You first recognise Helion, the morning rays of sun setting his skin aglow as though his powers commanded them to; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually doing as much to make a fashionable entrance. The charming grin he shoots your ways is contagious and you can’t help returning it until your focus shifts to the person beside him and you try not to let your face drop.

Even half-shielded from view, the sight of Eris sets your teeth on edge. His tall, lean frame sharply contrasts with the brightness of the meadow, his deep mahogany tunic making him stand out further amongst the flowers. The way he walks with such easy arrogance and moves with an infuriatingly casual stride as though he just belongs there makes your skin prickle with irritation.

Eris’ sharp amber eyes sweep across the group until they land on you for a short moment, a flicker of recognition and something else you don’t care to analyse in his gaze before he turns back to Rhys. The brief looks feels like a challenge and you feel your irritation growing, so you wrench your gaze away from him and focus on Helion instead.

“My, what a pleasant little group we’ve compiled,” the High Lord of Day says, tone pleasant and amused as always. He tilts his head, considering. “Morrigan wasn’t available?”

“She’s with Feyre, Elain and Tarquin,” Rhys responds with a roll of his eyes, but his faint smile tells you he’s pleased to see Helion, rather than annoyed. Nesta looks as though she wants nothing more than to go home, and Azriel looks impassive as always. “They’re covering the border on the East side.”

“Lovely group all the same,” Helion hums, winking at you, teasingly. You shake your head at him, smiling despite yourself. “Shall we?”

Gesturing ahead of you all, Helion starts walking and the rest of you follow, but not before Eris catches your gaze again and raises an eyebrow in question. Your cheeks warm and the smile you had previously given Helion starts to slip, but Eris looks away and walks ahead before you can fully react. The few seconds at a time that you engage in eye contact with the male have you assessing how his expression is sharper than it previously was.

His hair is shorter, you realise. The fiery red strands are no longer draping down his back, instead the ends are no longer than his shoulders, the tips just brushing against his collarbones. The previously long front pieces have been cropped short, his hair no longer looking long enough to tie back in a braid without falling back.

It’s almost as though there’s now nothing to soften the intensity of his gaze every time it passes over you and if that weren’t enough to unsettle you, it’s the realisation that you’re paying more attention to Eris’ hair than to the main reason you’re here in the first place.

Diplomatic relationships had greatly improved between Tamlin and the rest of the High Lords after many years of healing after the war. The Spring Court, while nearly restored to its former glory, had become the target of some recent attacks near the borders. Thus, Tamlin had requested the assistance of the other courts, with the exception of no outside help, ever the paranoid High Lord. Unfortunately, that excludes the security of the soldiers you’ve grown accustomed to, which has you looking over your shoulder every few minutes.

You knew Eris had agreed to help, but you weren’t aware he’d be in such close quarters. Well, as close as he could be with you walking right next to Nesta at the back of the group as she twisted and turned the hem of her dress keep it from getting caught on all the foliage.

“Remind me why we agreed to this,” she mutters under her breath, not quietly enough.

Rhysand throws a look over his shoulder while walking. “Because Tamlin requested our help,” he answers, his tone carefully neutral. “And we have a responsibility to agree to reasonable requests from other High Lords. If not to keep the peace between the Courts, then to ensure whatever’s happening doesn’t become a larger problem for the rest of us.”

“You know Tamlin’s not here, right?” Eris drawls, sardonically. “Meaning we don’t have to act like we actually like him.”

“What, the same way we act like we like you?” you mumble, unable to stop the words from escaping. You wince when Nesta snorts loudly, hiding her laughter in her hand. Even Azriel’s lips quirk up.

Eris finally looks over at you properly this time with a faint smirk, tilting his head. “You wound me, darling,” he says, his voice a silky challenge that you know from experience is daring you to push him further. “But I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes, physically unable to back down now that he’s spoken. It’s as though he flips a switch of irritation in you every time he talks, yet you never learn your lesson. It’s something to do with the amusement in his gaze, as if he enjoys your quick retorts that really gets under your skin.

“And you’re irritating as always,” you say, sighing as though you’re delivering unfortunate news. You look away, dismissively as you walk a little faster in an attempt to catch up to Nesta, from whom you’ve fallen behind. “But none of us would expect anything less from you.”

Eris continues walking at a leisurely pace, still closer to you than you are to Nesta and the others. Damn these stupid long-stemmed flowers.

A couple of them are particularly overgrown, the pollen seeming to waft right up into your nose and setting you off sneezing again. One particularly violent sneeze sends you stumbling and the world spins for a split second. Before you can hit the ground, a firm hand grips your elbow and pulls you upright, causing your back to bump against a solid chest.

You steady yourself and spin around to come face to face with Eris. His hand lingers on your arm, amber eyes glinting with amusement when you glance down, frowning before you yank it out of his grip. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly,” he replies drily, but doesn’t comment any further, taking a step back while keeping his eyes on you. His unwavering gaze makes you freeze, and it’s like he can sense your confusion as his lips quirk up. Bizarrely, he doesn't seem to be making fun of you, instead he just looks as though you’re both engaged in your usual banter and he’s enjoying it.

“Keep up, children,” Helion’s voice from ahead snaps you out of it and you step away, smoothing down your clothes and rushing forward to catch up with the others.

Before you looked away though, you caught Eris’ expression being schooled back into his usual aloof demeanour. It unsettles you, but you push the thought away as Nesta tilts her head at you in questioning. You shake your head slightly and smile reassuringly in answer, but her eyes narrow a little in suspicion.

The further you venture into the forest, the more your head clears, away from the pollen in the meadow, indicating you’re close to the border. The large trees offer you a welcome shade and you take a deep breath.

You’re grateful when you’re unable to sense any oncoming sniffling, but something else starts to tug at the edges of your awareness. It starts off as subtle and you brush it off, but the closer you get to the edges of the forest and nearer to the border, the stronger it becomes.

Rhys calls for a halt when you’ve reached your destination and your feet start to walk you to the walls of magic on their own accord. No one stops you, but they watch warily as you close your eyes, trying to understand what you’re sensing.

It’s took a while to come to terms with the abilities thrust upon you by the Cauldron, the ability to detect and absorb other people’s magic. You felt confident enough to distinguish what you felt from the magic of the people around you and it makes you exhale shakily.

“What is it?” Rhys murmurs, voice sharp but quiet as not to disrupt your concentration. You don’t need to sense anything else though, and so you turn around and shake your head.

“Fae magic,” you answer, slightly underwhelmed. “Just regular, old Fae magic. I don’t think there’s anything sinister here.”

The group all seem to visibly relax slightly, although Azriel’s shadows are still flitting around him like a flock of birds, some venturing out to explore and then returning to whisper at his ears. “Whoever was here has gone now. It’s just us.”

“What does it feel like?” Nesta asks, directing the question to you. She’s referring to the magic, knowing you can usually detect a type of feeling with each strain. “How dangerous?”

“It’s not that it’s dangerous,” you explain, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectant gazes. “It’s more angry than anything. And there’s so many of them, all with slightly different undertones.”

“Ah, how wonderful,” Helion remarks, cheery demeanour never slipping. “A large group of angry Fae with the nerve to attack the borders of a known crazed High Lord. Not dangerous in the slightest.”

You send him a withering stare, with no real heat in it. Rhysand ignores him, glancing back at the rest of you. “We should split up for a while. If something feels off, send out a message and we can regroup. Stay alert.”

You all nod, about to wander off until Helion catches everyone’s attention when he starts to literally glow.

The forest is darker where you all stand and it looks even more concealed further ahead so you aren’t surprised he’s doing as such, but the bright light is nearly blinding.

Eris scowls, the flames swirling around his own hands giving just enough illumination without drawing attention. “Why not just send out a beacon to alert everyone to our exact location?”

Helion frowns, glancing at Rhys who, surprisingly, just shrugs. The High Lord of Day sighs dramatically. “Fine,” he cedes, dimming his light slightly. “Happy, little Lord?”

“Ecstatic,” he deadpans, walking off without another word. The rest of you follow suit, going in opposite directions to inspect the border for signs of anything.

You’ve only been walking around for a few minutes alone, trying to feel unique differences in the magic that lingers around you, still fresh. It’s harder than you thought it would be and you’re so frustrated that you let your guard down.

You don’t hear the snap of the twig, but from the corner of your eye, you catch movement and reach for the dagger by your hip instinctively, spinning round toward the source. You swing the dagger out in front of you in a defensive position, just to see that it’s Eris emerging from behind a tree, his amber eyes glinting with amusement.

“Did I startle you?” he drawls, his tone dropping with feigned innocence.

Scowling, you sheathe your blade. “Do you enjoy sneaking around like that? Or do you just have an unhealthy desire to annoy me?”

Eris raises his eyebrows and his smirk deepens like you’ve just said something extremely entertaining. “Well, it’s a talent really, but what was that about desire? Because, that-”

“Stop,” you sigh, wanting nothing less than to hear out the rest of that sentence. “Just… go away and let me focus on this magic.”

You turn away from him and shut your eyes in concentration, but it doesn’t work as you dont hear him move. Knowing Eris is standing there watching you is doing nothing to help, and you’re about to say so when he speaks first.

“How do you know it’s not just mine or Helion’s magic you’re sensing?” he asks, seemingly serious. You frown at him, thinking he’s joking.

“Well, I have met the two of you before,” you reply, injecting your voice with as much sarcasm as possible. “I know what your magic feels like.”

“And?” Eris tilts his head in question. “What does it feel like?”

“Helion’s magic feels bright, awake and fresh and yours feels…” Inviting, warm, strong. You don’t say anything, because you can’t really explain what you sense in his magic as you still don’t fully understand it. Why you’re drawn to it the same way you would be drawn to jumping into a pile of autumn leaves outside your home as a child. You swallow, looking away. “Different.”

It’s not unusual for you to gravitate to certain magical auras, but it’s only ever been towards close friends, family, some select strangers with whom you had a kind word, for example.

Thankfully, Eris doesn’t push. Annoyingly, however, he changes the subject. “Have you considered my mother’s invite to come and visit Autumn?”

“Shush!” you hiss at him, shooting a glance over your shoulder to see if any of the Inner Circle are nearby. The last thing you need is for them to overhear your conversation. It would lead to an unbearable series of questions, interrogations and endless teasing.

Eris’ chuckle is soft, taunting. “Why so nervous, darling? Afraid your friends will finally put two and two together and realise how you truly feel about their beloved court?”

The mental image of Rhys being disappointed in you makes you feel physically sick. He took you in, gave you a place to be free and opened up his home to you. All for you to go and feel like you don’t even belong? Your chest tightens and you decide you could never do that to him. You glare at Eris and attempt to keep your voice steady. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he drops his voice down to a whisper. “Would it really be so bad if your High Lord knew the truth?”

You swallow the rising panic in your body, the fear that he’s going to use your insecurities that only he can sense to his advantage. You close the distance between the two of you and your voice is low and sharp as you speak. “What the hell do you want from me, Eris?”

Eris’ expression falters slightly, like you’ve taken him by surprise for a split second. “What?”

“What could you possibly want from me?” you let out a derisive laugh, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Do you enjoy holding things over me? Because I can’t think of anything I could give you that you don’t already have. So, if you are blackmailing me for something, then I’d prefer if you just came out with it already.”

The words spill out of you with an intensity that you’ve bottled up since you last argued with Eris, but your anger dims slightly when you realise he’s no longer looking amused. Instead, he stares at you with a blank expression and it’s somehow worse than if he were insulting you.

You realise just how close you had gotten to him only when he steps back slowly, as though wanting to draw your attention to the lack of space, snapping you out of whatever furious trance you were in.

A moment passes before he allows himself to give you a faint smirk, but his jaw is clenched and his eyes flicker with something you can’t figure out. “We should get back to your precious High Lord.”

You open your mouth to say… something. You aren’t even sure what there’s left to say, especially since the whole interaction has left you more unsettled than ever. “I-”

“Keep your guard up, Archeron,” he just says, cutting you off before turning around to walk away without sparing you another glance.

tag list: @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl

[tripleglitchwriting]

if you're taking requests, maybe something about g1 beachcomber attempting to communicate and make friends with a human?

I don’t know too much about G1 Beachcomber, but I think I know enough to write about him. Here goes!

Also, I am so, so sorry it took this long 😭😭 I’ve been having a bit of a hard time writing recently.

In That Moment

First contact G1 Beachcomber and human

No warnings!! Other than a few mentions of war, it’s pretty fluffy. Enjoy!

The planet they ended up on was beautiful. It was filled with so much life, most creatures too small for him to hold or see properly, but that didn’t make them any less amazing! The sheer variety in each and every species was astounding. To think they had been here all this time, just waiting for someone to find them.

The Ark had landed near one of the planets many oceans. Water covered most of planet actually, which made for quite a wide array of biodiversity both on land and in sea. The area he’d found himself in had tall trees with only a bush like flourish of leaves on its top, plenty of grasses and flowers, as well as a lot of sand. A lot of sand. Not his favorite, but things like that were common in places unlike Cybertron.

In the water nearby he spotted splashing, something other than the crashing waves hounding the shore. Out of curiosity he trotted over to investigate. A slick, gray marine lifeform was making arcs leaping from the water into the air. It was too far out for him to truly get a good look at it, but it was a fascinating being even from where he was standing. Just as he stepped into part of the shallows in a vain attempt to get closer, there was a scuttling at his pedes.

A very small crustacean was darting away from him. Unfortunately Beachcomber was a little too big to properly handle the thing without accidentally hurting it. It seemed to have an array of legs with two large pincers on its front. For protection maybe? Hunting for prey? It crawled out of sight before he could figure it out. Beachcomber ex-vented. There had to be something here he could get closer look at….

Oh well. He still had some time before he had to get back to the arc. Optimus had specifically told everyone not to get involved with the local dominant species, but how was he supposed to pass up an opportunity like that? The war had robbed him of peaceful interaction with countless other races. Now that they were hiding here, maybe he’d have the time to communicate with a brand new people!

The time passed slowly. Most of the organisms were either too far in the water or too small to handle. They were all terrified of him too, which made sense, but it was still a bummer. He’d really hoped to make a grand discovery here, it seemed like a great habitat for plenty of species. Turning away for the water, Beachcomber decided it may be time to give up for the cycle. Maybe he’d try a different place next time, or a- OH!

When he came to turn around, something new was standing in front of him. Bipedal, strikingly similar to a Cybertronain, just… smaller, and with… fabrics, and… carrying something. He hadn’t seen anything on this planet wear fabrics before… or approach him willingly, this had to be the sentient species of the planet! How lucky was he to meet one just as he was about to leave!

It- or, they, he supposed, began warbling something at him. This was a fantastic opportunity to communicate! Quickly Beachcomber fell to his knees in order to get closer to the new person, inadvertently causing the ground to shake around them, the person stumbled. They took more steps back in hesitation, obviously weary.

“No, no, sorry, I’m not tryin’ to scare ya.” Narrowed eyes met his own optics. In an effort to connect, Beachcomber held out a digit. “See? I’m not hurtin’ nobody.”

Their little eyes sparkled with curiosity, and though he detected a healthy amount of hesitation, they put both their hands on his one digit after flinging the object they were carrying over their shoulder. The tiny servos were warmer than he thought, it was very pleasant feeling actually. Their lips curled up into a shy smile.

Beachcomber could hardly contain himself. This was the discovery of a lifetime! Well, maybe not a lifetime, but it was still fascinating to witness! They weren’t as afraid of him as the rest of the creatures, they were intelligent, sentient! He’s been over that fact in his head before, yet it still astounded him. Prime might be upset with him if he knew… but no self respecting bot would pass up an scientific opportunity like this. Maybe Wheeljack would want to see… no, actually, on second thought that’s probably a horrible idea. Bumblebee maybe? Or Percy. He wasn’t even supposed to be here though, what is he was found out? What if- a sound coming from below dragged Beachcomber out of his thoughts. The person was doing something with the object they had, seemingly opening it. It’s a carrying device then!

They bent down and set it on the ground, still wearily gazing up at him. From inside the device, they pulled out some small rectangular object with a glass lens in the middle and some other bits and bobs around its front. Of course he didn’t have any idea what it was. Alien technology isn’t something easily understood at first glance.

In his frenzied daze, Beachcomber completely forgot one key component about actually communicating with this new species: language. That didn’t stop him from trying to talk to them anyway.

“Hey, what’s your designation little guy?” The creature raised the object to its optic and pressed a button, causing the thing to make a bright flash at Beachcomber. He immediately went on the defensive and positioned his helm much farther from the thing, ready to use his servos is need be- a product of fighting for so long. However, the flash didn’t seem to have any effect on him or the creature, though his little friend was visibly caught off guard with his sudden movement. Primus, he really needed to stop doing that if he was going to talk to this thing!

Not long after a small white slip of something began to come out of the bottom of the device. The creature grabbed it and began waving it around in the air… was it another attempt to communicate? Or maybe a threat display or some kind? Against his better judgement, Beachcomber brought himself closer once again. This time, he resigned to observation. Studying other species always intrigued him. Organic species especially, he could never get over how soft some of them were! Like this one, their little cheeks were so pinch-able! Oh how he would love to talk to them about it… but at the moment the language barrier was too large.

Or so he thought.

The white slip began to change color the longer it was waved in the air. He hardly noticed it at first, and he couldn’t get a good look at what was appearing before it was turned away from him. To Beachcomber’s surprise, they began warbling at him again, and to his even greater surprise, they showed him what was on the slip.

It was him. It was a picture of Beachcomber.

Needless to say, he nearly shouted at the poor thing in pure excitement. Luckily he was able to contain himself through the power of focusing all his energy into thinking about the implications of this rather than actually moving or saying anything. What is this technology? How did they do that? Did they make it themselves? Oh, the questions he had were making it hard to think!!

“What an interesting lil’ one you are…” He slowly raised one of his digits to them. They backed up, hesitant, but he didn’t chase them. He just kept his digit patiently in place. As it seemed, that patience was about to pay off.

The creature stared at him for a second. Then, after carefully setting down their device, they raised their own tiny servo to his digit. Their squishy little palm radiated warmth. Beachcomber radiated utter joy. Their itty bitty face shifted from what he assumed was fear to an astounded wonder. He could even feel something that reminded him of a sparkbeat behind their digits. He couldn’t hide his smile.

Unfortunately, the bearing of dente seemed to scare them a little. The wonder on their face was replaced with nervous concern as they retracted their servo and took a step back. Beachcomber immediately covered his intake and shifted his weight away from the creature. They were so skiddish! But that was probably how any rational being would react in this situation…

Now what was he supposed to do? He could try again, they responded well to the slow movement before, maybe they would understand he was trying to make a positive connection. Maybe he could find them fuel, they’d like fuel, right? His mind traveled elsewhere as he became lost in thought. Just when he decided on what to do, (try slow moments again) he felt something on the tip of one of his digits- one that was splayed on the ground after he moved back.

It was the creature. They’d made their way towards him while he was preoccupied in his thoughts. The expression of contemplation he held previously dropped like a weight off his chassis. At that, they smiled. It was awkward and unconfident, but it was a symbol of mutual understanding. He didn’t know exactly why… but it felt like an apology.

Beachcomber pulled his lips into a much neater grin. The creature brightened up at that, chirping at him and bouncing in place. He took the opportunity to move his other servo slowly towards them. They acknowledged the change but didn’t shy away. Carefully, as they stood there with wide and curious optics, he rubbed a digit on their helm. He was both ecstatic and astonished to see they didn’t try and push it away or take it as a threat. They just waited until he was done.

When he did finish, he figured it was time to take the next step. Beachcomber slowly brought his servo down palm-up right next to the creature. They were a bit confused as to what he was trying to do, but when he took his other servo and tapped his palm with a gentle metal clink, they seemed to understand. With weary but brave movements, they put one pede on the living platform. Then another. Cautiously, they made their way to the dip of his palm.

Beachcomber gave them a second to find a comfortable position. When they did, he began to move. He began slow enough that they would be able to jump off if they felt uncomfortable. To his delight, they stayed put.

As the planet’s star began to dip down under the horizon line, Beachcomber held the creature close to his chassis. His spark was filled with complete warmth for the first time in a long time. It was a comfort he’d been missing since the war started.

The two simply sat there in a serene moment of peace and appreciation. This planet wasn’t his home, but it was the home of the friend he made today. No matter what, he vowed to protect this harmony at all costs. But for now, he resigned to watching the sunset and feeling the lightweight creature on his servo tap a soft and gentle beat on the metal.

In that moment, it seemed like everything was going to be okay.

[twst-drabbles]

Lilia 9

Summary: Tracking down a pack of stealing faeries, General Lilia finds their path ending on a lone human being forcibly bathed.

(A reminder that I am not a spoiler-free blog. I tend to read ahead and skip around for my entertainment. That being said, time travel shenanigans with the Janitor who gets caught up in all this. Is it canon to the Janitor AU? Probably not but the thought is fun.)

Soaps. Since when has Lilia ever heard of those little faeries, those pixies sneaking into stores and flea markets for the sake of stealing soaps? It’s not unusual for them to pick and take what they like. He’s had a number of sugar cookies stolen right from his hand just as the grateful citizens stuffed them in his palm. The faeries love for sweets would rival that troublesome princess’s love for her egg.

Lilia usually isn’t one to deal with smaller problems such as these, as they resolve themselves, but pixies are unusually sensitive to scents, to the point of avoiding cities and villages alike. For them to go out of their way to steal these scented soaps tells Lilia that something was wrong. Off. While the signals are usually more subtle, often the little faeries are the first to know of incoming danger.

Lilia only hopes this wasn’t the case.

Hiding his presence among the leaves in this forested area was second nature to him. He didn’t have the hollow bones of birds, but his steps would tell one otherwise. If even the pixies can’t tell he’s tailing them, then who was he to deny the claims?

Ahead of him was a light in this dark night, and in his ears Lilia heard the rush of a river. He took a deep breath in just as the water pixie dipped out of sight with their hoard of coin-like soaps. However, rather than the crisp scent of midnight grass and river water, Lilia was hit with the sharp smell of roiling magic.

It was the likes that Lilia has only witnessed when the princess was well and truly fed up.

“Ah, that’s too hot!”

In his concentration, the blunt sound of voice nearly made Lilia’s heel slip from a branch.

“Oh, these next? Alright, hand them here. Let’s hope it gets the smell out,” landing on the nearest tree, Lilia spots an immaculate white tub with clawed feet right below the gaze of a tree house that may as well be mansion. Inside the mess of bubbles that covered everything except for the face was you, a lone human surrounded by faeries with their little arms hauling the soaps they’ve stole.

A human? Here? You’d basically be a sitting duck in this location, and yet here you are, unmarked, cursed by no one, and actually being bathed by them?

The water pixie Lilia was tailing dropped the silver soap into the tub. Another surge of bubbles came forth and overflowed the tub, blue in color. A triplet of wood faeries carried a brown bucket over your head before dumping water to rinse you off.

You wiped the water from your eyes with a sigh, “Nope. I still stink of magic. Let’s try the next one.”

The water faerie jingled out their tune of frustration, a quick and harsh number. You picked up a handful of bubbles before blowing them at their feet.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to smell like my old self eventually. It was a crazy reaction of spells that interacted, so it is going to take some time.”

The water faerie landed on your palm, sneezed and flew right back to the branches, only to come face to face with Lilia in his mask. The poor little thing screamed.

It’s easy to come to the belief that the smaller the fae, the less powerful they are. To the ignorant, it’s the truth, but for people such as Lilia, with their small size comes a certain amount of finesse that not even the princess would be able to replicate. It’s why they can combine their forces so well to make the forest yawn open to expose his location and manipulate the river current to aim right at him.

Too bad Lilia’s dealt with his fair share of angered pixies. With a leap, soared over the water and landed the tips of his toes on the edge of your tub.

“Never would I see the day,” Lilia leaned down to your stiff face, “that a human would receive the favor of the faeries. How did you do that, Human?”

Perhaps this was trick, or a mistake of some kind. Humans would have to resort to such things, of that Lilia wouldn’t be shocked by. Creatures with lives as short as yours are often so protective of their own flesh, so, one would have to forgive Lilia for being caught off guard when you kicked his feet and had him land face first into the water.

“At least let me get a towel first,” you grumbled out as you reached over a pulled it off the grass, “I don’t need anymore stress. Things are already tiresome and confusing as they are.”

It seems that General Lilia has found himself in the company of rather interesting human.

[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day5: First Kiss

After a decent night out, Ruby walks into her dorm; her heels were already in her hand and the pretty checkered colored bow that matched the dress she went to the dance in was removed. To her surprise, only Blake was in the room. She was reading of course.

Ruby:Where’s Trouble Maker 2 & 3?

Blake:Weiss kept complaining about having nothing to do so Yang dragged her to a club.

Ruby:Isn’t she banned?

Blake:Do you expect anything different from Trouble Maker number two? Personally I think that moves her to number one.

Ruby:Hehe, said the actual criminal. Nice try. You’re not dethroned.

Blake:You all will catch up eventually. How was your date with Jaune?

Ruby:Y’know…a little strange. He seemed a little nervous and didn’t eat much. I asked if anything was wrong but he said he was just a little scatterbrained. He even seemed a little tense at the movies.

Blake:….*lowers book* It’s been a month right, with you two being together?

Ruby:*nods happily* It’s almost our anniversary. It’s too bad exams fall on the actual day.

Blake:Did he eat light tasting food?

Ruby:Umm, he did eat a decent amount of bread. There was a funny moment he practically got brain freeze because he had forgotten he was chewing gum earlier, so when he took a sip of water it really woke him up.

Blake:*smiles*….

Ruby:What?

Blake:There are four avid book readers in our friend group. You, myself, Ren, and Jaune. Now we all don’t read the exact same things but nothing about his actions stick out?

Ruby:He…has a dark secret tormenting him? No wait, that can’t be right. He already told me about his transcripts.

Blake:…What’s wrong with his transcripts?

Ruby:…Nothing. What are we talking about?

Blake:Ruby, what’s the last thing you did before coming here?

Ruby:Well traffic was light so I thought it best to make it back here on time because I thought Yang would worry. I don’t even think Jaune is in this wing yet. Said tonight would be good to walk through the courtyard and maybe look at the sky from his favorite spot on the roof. Pretty sure he’s-

Blake:Have you two kissed yet?

Ruby:….*whispers* Blake?

Blake:Yes?

Ruby:I think I’ve fucked up.

Blake:I think you can fix it.

A burst of petals took off so fast it flipped pages in Blake’s book. If Ruby had slowed down she would’ve realized she had even forgotten her shoes. That became known when her feet landed on the courtyard grass. Unfortunately she was the only one there. Roof it is then, hopefully.

Ruby Petal Bursted again through the school and up the stairs to the correct exit to the roof, but didn’t get the chance to open the door; it had unexpectedly opened from the other side. Before Ruby could stop, she ram right into Jaune, sending them both to ground with her landing on top of him and his undone tux. Groaning as she raised her head, Ruby was greeted with dark blue eyes staring at her with confusion.

Ruby:Heeeey…fancy seeing you here.

Jaune: *chuckles* I think that’s my line. I was just about to leave, but I’m glad I didn’t.

Ruby:Were you waiting for me?

Jaune:More like hoping. You okay?

Ruby:Me? You’re the one who got tackled.

Jaune:Why were you rushing?

Ruby:So uhhh, I talked to Blake about our date and she said something interesting. *blushing* By any chance… were you…trying to kiss me?

Jaune:*red* It did cross my mind several times, but it kinda felt like a bad moment all night. Then the date ended and you had to go so-

Ruby:I’m here now!

Jaune:*dark red*….

Ruby:That…that was a little much. I mean I just tackled you and this entire moment is all screwy and awkward. I didn’t even pick on why you were feeling so self con-

Jaune:Ruby, breathe. *smiles* It’s okay.

Ruby:D..Do you still want to look at the stars?

Jaune:I’m looking at them right now~

She could feel his heart pounding, or maybe that was her own? Ruby couldn’t tell the difference nor did she care. She had never done this before and yet her body began to ease itself as she lowered her head and closed her eyes slowly. Jaune’s arms wrapped around her slightly anxious frame, calming her down. Finally, a tender warmth spread across her warmth. It was so brief but the sweetest thing she’s ever felt. When Ruby opened her eyes she saw Jaune still a blushing mess like she was. Giddiness crept onto their faces and escaped as joyful laughter. Of course this was how their first kiss would go. It would also be second. Ruby cuffed her hands around his face and they stared at each other fondly before kissing again. If he was looking at at the stars then what she held in her hands had to be moon, stunning and forever glowing with gentle light.

xxxxx

The two had stayed up there longer than expected, essentially continuing their date for about an our before walking to their dorms, hands intertwined in comfortable silence. Sure it was a little cheesy, but what else do you do when the person you’re dating lives across the hall from you? They finally reached their doors and unfortunately had to let go.

Jaune:Sooo see you tomorrow?

Ruby:Mmhmm~ *smiles* Bright and early like always.

Jaune: Right, I knew that. Still have class and all. Boy, I really am off my game tonight.

Ruby:Not as bad as tackling your date on accident. Sorry, again.

Jaune:Eh, Nora hits me harder in training.

Ruby:Oh I bet. *rubs arm* So…I know this sounds a little weird but since the date is officially ending now…I wouldn’t be opposed to a goodnight ki-

He honored the request before she could even finish. Ruby giggled, leaning into the kiss tenderly the best she could. Now she wished she was still wearing the heels. Jaune let her go and they waved goodbye before heading inside. Ruby was all smiles, a blushing mess that quickly stopped her stride as she saw three sets of eyes and smug smiles facing her way.

WBY: Hey Dunce number one.

Ruby:Heh, yeah, that’s fair.

[2g-1k]

2G1K - Chapter 2 "Good Evans, Heavens! …Or is it the other way 'round?"

You met the first guy in the kingdom. Behold, the second guy!

Masterpost

Jonathan Evans’ first thought upon regaining consciousness were What the fuck? And to be fair, he has very good reasons to say so.

For one, he felt like someone had just played him like a basketball and slam dunked him headfirst into the ground. Which made sense, as the last memory he had was experiencing a plane crash.

Where then, is the rest of the plane that was supposed to crash along with him?

Evans was genuinely surprised to see his travel backpack lay beside him unscathed, as if God himself gently placed it carefully on the ground. Then he examined himself, and to no one’s surprise, with great pain comes great wounds. Minor cuts and scratches could be found all over his body, and his skin was decorated with various shades of reds, purples and blues. Fixing his glasses, he wished that fate treated him as well as his bag was, while totally not thinking about the fact that being alive - from a plane crash no less - without any major injuries was already a blessing by itself.

Nevertheless, remaining laid down on the ground was not helping him find wherever the hell the bloody plane flew off to crash without him. Evans had to fight a war with his aching muscles and stand up so he could actually see better. Born to lie down, forced to get up, I guess. Observing his surroundings, Evans guessed with no small amount of uncertainty, that he may be in a Christmas tree farm with the amount of pine saplings that occupied most of the land he saw. He wondered if he could ask the farm owner for help, but couldn’t see anything that resembled a building. Nor a person, for that matter.

No plane, no signs of life…yet, thought Evans. Survival mode activation?

It is of utmost misfortune that Mr. Jonathan Evans had spent most of his life in a city, and had spent little time touching grass and getting to know Mother Nature - he knew little to nothing about survival other than the most basic of basics!

A fresh change of clothes from his bag later, he thought about what to do next. Plane or not, it isn’t going to assist in his survival other than providing shelter, not to mention he wasn’t a fan of setting up camp in a place where the dead rested. Was he the only one alive, or are there others around, lost like he was? 

An idea that was in hindsight, so obvious that he felt stupid to have not thought about it earlier, hit his head as hard as he hit the ground. My phone! He definitely felt stupid now. Turning on his phone, he tried to call emergency services for help, but to no avail. Well, at least I tried? Not my fault there’s no signal, anyway.

Be that as it may, it is his problem if he wants to survive. Now he just needed to obtain water and food and he was set for life! Or set for as long as he had to stay here. Despite all the looking around he did since he woke up, he didn’t notice anything resembling water or food.

One thing he noticed, however, was that he felt weirdly out of place. Like he felt tall. Not sure of what to think of that, he tried to shrug it off, and in the name of survival - began his quest for water.

Dusk gradually approached, and Evans was getting a little agitated. During who knows how long, along his arduous trek across evergreen forests of pine saplings that barely reached his waist, he had not seen as much as a single drop of water. Seeing as he still hasn’t walked out of this endless greenery, he tried to walk faster, but found himself unable to as the little trees were scratching him with every step he took. He figured he could just knock them off with sheer force, though decided not to in the end.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the edge of the forest. Although the sun’s rays have sunken deep beneath the horizon, and the stars have emerged to greet the earth, he could vaguely see a large patch of grass dotted with random hues of what he supposed were flowers.

Next to the flower patch sat a tiny cottagehouse, so small that he figured if he stood next to it, its height would not even reach his knees. His jaw nearly dropped at the mere sight.

Am I hallucinating?

He blinked once.

Twice.

It was still there. 

He was about to step closer to take a better look, when a faint flickering light beneath him caught his attention. This time, his jaw definitely dropped.

Eyes wide open, mouth gaping in absolute disbelief, he watched as a tiny man no taller than his index finger, carrying an equally tiny lantern, pushing an equally tiny cart, walk along an equally tiny, narrow winding path.

It was by bearing witness to this sight that everything clicked for Evans in that moment.

The saplings were fully grown trees. They weren’t part of a farm, but an entire forest. He didn’t feel tall for no reason. He was tall the entire time.

Because this place is tiny.

His brain about to explode from the sudden revelation, all he could do was stare in wonder as the little man picked up his pace, and subsequently break into a sprint, making a beeline towards the little cottage he noticed moments earlier.

It wasn’t until the little man shut the door to the little cottage did he snap awake from his trance.

Evans had many thoughts flying around in his mind not unlike a hurricane. What the fuck, did I just see a tiny person? He was pushing a tiny cart! He lives in a tiny cottage! He’s tiny! Or am I huge? I’m not dreaming this up, right?

I could try talking to him.

One thought stood above the rest, and given that Evans had nothing to lose, why not give it a try?

What the little man took minutes to reach took him three steps, and soon he was standing in front of the miniscule building that felt more like a dollhouse rather than someone’s actual home.

He could hear the little person talking as he kneeled down to match the height of the cottage. He felt as if he was losing his mind this very instant, listening to a man the size of his finger talk! Evans couldn’t make out what he said, but knowing the little guy exists was more than enough to leave him questioning reality itself.

Now, what should he do to get his attention?

Evans tried to knock on the door, but found it too awkward a position to adjust to do so. Instead, he settled on knocking on the roof.

Knock, knock, knock. He paused, and resumed again. Knock, knock, knock.

He peeked into the window.

Both pairs of eyes were wide open at the sight of each other, one in wonder, and the other in horror. Evans watched as the little person froze up - no doubt in absolute terror - before thawing himself, scrambling out of Evans’ sight.

Evans wasn’t sure what else to expect. Obviously I would be fucking terrified of a person larger than a building too, he thought, but still, damn, am I that intimidating?

He gave the house another two knocks. Knock, knock.

“I know you’re in there, I just want to ask some questions.”

“...Please?”

A few minutes passed.

No reply came.

Evans wasn’t sure of what to make of this situation. He hadn’t expected the little guy to be cooperative, but he wasn’t exactly surprised that the little guy’s first reaction was to escape. He couldn’t know what exact reasons sent him running for his life like that either - ignoring the differences in size. Hell, maybe they don’t even speak the same language, which could be highly possible given that neither of their people have probably met each other at some point in history! Now Evans thought maybe he looked stupid. To appear as a dishevelled, towering brute whom for all Evans knew, made loud booming noises that might not even register as a language! If anyone could see him at that moment, they would be able to see his cheeks flush scarlet, drowning in the embarrassment he just thought up out of nowhere.

As the night lingered, Evans’ thought-up embarrassment was gradually replaced with fatigue. Feeling worn out from all the walking he did today, he was ready to drop and fall unconscious at any second. Still not receiving any form of response from the tiny man who inhabits the tiny house, he got up, walked to the flower patch, and decided to call that his bed and temporary home. Until he could finally return home, at least.

Using his bag as a pillow, he slept beside the house, and silently bid it goodnight.

Perhaps he will try his luck at communication tomorrow.

[phoenix-downer]

Compelled to Act

3325 words. Sora/Kairi. Post-Canon. Kairi POV. Grief/Mourning, Survivor's Guilt, Angst, Romance, Hope. For SoKai Day 2023: The Future.

Summary: As Kairi grapples with her grief and guilt, she has a dream about Sora in Quadratum. She might not be able to speak, but he has so many things he wants to say.

What if we don’t succeed?

It was a thought Kairi hardly allowed herself. They would save Sora. They had to. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. To admit otherwise would mean she would have to face her grief, that she couldn’t keep running and hiding, then sleeping and searching, and now pouring herself into her training instead.

“There is no right way to grieve,” her mother had told her the morning after Sora’s disappearance, when she was crying so much she thought she would break into a million pieces and never be whole again. How could she be whole when she’d lost the person she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with? She knew she and Sora were young, that the adults would patronizingly tell them to wait a few more years and see if they could really go the distance with their infuriatingly smug smiles. Young love, it never lasts, they would say. Except sometimes it does. Sometimes you meet the right person young and get to enjoy growing old together. She knew she and Sora truly loved each other and would’ve gone the distance.

“You have to grieve on your own terms,” her mother had said the day after that, when Kairi still didn’t want to get out of bed. “The pain will never fully go away, but it’ll get lighter. You’ll learn to live with it.”

Well, Kairi didn’t want to learn to live without Sora. That was the entire point. And while she knew plenty of people felt irrational guilt over the death of their loved ones, her guilt was entirely rational. It really should have been her instead. The only reason it wasn’t was because Sora had intervened and substituted himself in her place instead.

The tear-streaked faces of their friends made her question his decision. Everyone would be happier if it were me and not you. So why did you do it?

She summoned her Keyblade and focused on the nearby dummy Aqua had set out. A cool evening breeze tugged at her hair and clothes. The Land of Departure was beautiful with its ponds and starlit skies and sprawling castle halls full of history, and she enjoyed living here. It was just strange how the entire universe kept chugging along like one of its brightest lights going missing wasn’t a problem.

A wall of red-hot flames erupted from her Keyblade and struck the dummy. All of her anger and rage at Sora’s disappearance (she couldn’t bring herself to say death) channeled into a nice clean burst of flame. The dummy was well and truly charred afterwards, as was the nearby grass. She examined her handiwork with grim satisfaction. So much for having only a heart of pure light. More like an existence that brings total destruction and death.

That’s all I’m good for, getting the people I love hurt and killed. She was training further so she wouldn’t be such a burden, but what was the point? Even if she did see Sora again, he was better off without her. If he got too close to her again, he’d just get hurt and tormented and tortured and killed. Again.

She lifted her Keyblade once more. It was a good thing Riku was the one who had gone after Sora. He was actually good at saving him. At helping him. For all his issues with darkness, Riku was much better at healing and restoring people than she was.

She smiled wryly. If Riku was what monsters feared, if he was the one who consumed Sora’s nightmares, then she was an angel of death, a siren luring Sora to his doom. Looks and appearances were deceiving. Everyone thought Riku was the villain, the problem. All along it had been her.

A moment later, water shot out of her Keyblade and doused the charred dummy. She absently wondered if all her tears for Sora would match the amount of water that had just swallowed the dummy in its relentless onslaught. There had been so many of them and they’d come in powerful, intense bursts until she’d gone to sleep to search for clues as to his whereabouts. Now that she was awake again, there wasn’t as much crying anymore, but grief bursts still hit her every now and then. Still engulfed her in their powerful waves and cast her adrift until she found something to cling to, something to ground her.

She reached into her pocket and grasped the Wayfinder that Aqua had given to her. It was pink and purple and made with care, and feeling its smooth glassy surface kept her in the moment.

Did Sora still have her lucky charm? She could only hope so. Did he even remember who she was? Who he was? That was the question. He was in some other realm, but what was his existence even like? And how was it any different from death, really? Torn apart from all the people he loved and separated from them by a wide gulf. That was what death was, separation of the soul from the body, of the self from one’s loved ones.

She assumed his soul and his body were still one, but he was far from them, so while he might not be truly dead, it didn’t seem like he was really alive, either. And even if Riku did find him, how in the worlds was he supposed to bring Sora back? Sora had broken a nature taboo, and she doubted Death would relinquish its prize without a fight.

Riku, don’t do anything stupid, please, she silently begged. She knew Riku was careful and a lot more measured and guarded than she and Sora were, but she still couldn’t help but worry.

After another round with the dummy that left it electrified and then frozen solid, she decided to give the poor thing a break from her wrath and call it a night. Dinner had happened hours ago with Terra, Aqua, Ven, and Chirithy, so it was time for bed now. She stopped by the castle’s kitchen briefly to grab a quick snack and then trekked up the old, winding stairs to her little room on the second floor.

The extra practice had another purpose beyond honing her skills. If she was tired enough, she would fall asleep quickly instead of tossing and turning for hours on end as sleep eluded her and her fears and regrets haunted her instead.

Of course, sometimes dreaming wasn’t much better. Her dreams, when she remembered them, were either fragmented and disjointed or disturbing and dreadful. The others had had dreams of Sora, and she’d had that single dream that gave them the clue they needed to continue their search. But ever since then he had been absent from her dreams, or if he’d visited, she couldn’t remember upon waking.

Still, that was better than not being able to sleep at all. Thankfully, exhaustion won out tonight, and she soon slipped into sleep, hoping that she wouldn’t remember any of her dreams and would just be able to escape for a little while.

A big, modern city with soaring skyscrapers and winding streets. Water drip, drip, dripping as the light rain covered everything in a wet film. Red and green and yellow lights reflecting off of puddles.

Kairi moved through this realm as if she were floating. There was no sense of time or space, just moving over the pavement without any contact with it. A sign she didn’t belong in this place, perhaps, that to the people she passed she was simply a fiction, a ghost. When she tried to touch things, her hands moved right through them, and when she tried to speak, no one was able to hear her.

The experience made shivers run down her spine. She missed having a body that could interact with the world around her, that could touch and taste and test, feel and sense and caress. She really was beginning to wonder if she was a ghost. Of course, if the people in this realm tried to come to hers, they would probably seem like the ghosts. She sensed some great barrier that was nearly impossible to pass, though Riku had succeeded and Sora had been brought here unwillingly.

Or was it willingly? He had willingly given his life for hers, so it felt strange to speak of him coming here against his will. And yet she couldn’t help but think such thoughts. She knew Sora didn’t want to be apart from her any more than she wanted to be apart from him.

Her wanderings eventually led her to a coffee shop situated in a four-story building with the number four in the address. It had space on all four floors, too. Four, four, four. Everything here reminded her of the unlucky number that sounded like death.

The first floor was where people ordered their coffee from the hard-working baristas, the second and third floors were where they could drink the coffee, either alone or with friends on various tables and couches, and the fourth floor was a rooftop area with a few more seats and a view of the nearby scenery.

She almost didn’t notice him at first. He was seated at one of the tables, an untouched cup of coffee steaming in front of him as he stared into the horizon. His hair looked different, lighter and much less spiky than before, and his back was turned to her and his clothes were more muted, more like what normal people wore. But then he stiffened and glanced back, and his searing blue eyes gave him away.

“Kairi?” he murmured, looking right at her as if he could see her. Gosh, he was more handsome than ever, and he looked older and wiser and world-weary but still with that spark of Sora compassion in his eyes.

Well, she supposed it had been a year. She’d changed and so had he.

So had he. Relief flooded her at the thought. Dead people couldn’t change and grow. Only the living could.

She tried responding, but of course he couldn’t hear her. She was a ghost in this realm. But then how had he sensed her presence? Perhaps it was that gift of his for seeing hearts wherever he went.

His expression softened. “You can’t speak here, can you?” he gently said. “I can’t speak when I visit you in your dreams, so I guess it makes sense the reverse is true too.”

He had visited her in her dreams since that time she’d confronted Xehanort? If only she could remember.

He patted the chair next to him. “Have a seat.”

She floated over and “sat” down as best she could, but of course all she could manage was sort of hovering over the chair. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, and if she really tried she could imagine she and Sora were grabbing a cup of coffee together like they’d done so many times at the cafe on the beach back home.

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” Sora said, his face serious in a very un-Sora like way, like this place dragged his spirit down despite his best efforts. “Even with all the time we got together before we were separated, it still wasn’t enough.”

She agreed. It didn’t matter how much time you got to spend with your loved one before you lost them. The loss still ached like a deep wound that would never fully heal because that person was never meant to be torn from your side like that. She’d often thought to herself, if only I could speak to Sora again. If only I could have just a few more minutes with him. But even if she’d gotten her wish, it would be like sticking a bandaid on a gaping, gushing wound. Because the time would still end, the conversation would be over, and it still wouldn’t be enough. She’d still long to see him again after that.

No, the only true remedy for grief was an eternal reunion. A promise that she’d get to be with him forever. No more separations and sadness, no more sorrow and pain, no more tears and tearing apart of their shared heart.

She hoped the afterlife would be kinder than this life was.

Sora frowned. “I can tell you’re sad. I’m sorry I haven’t found a way back home yet. I’m trying, trust me.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It’s just a lot more difficult than I’d like.”

She scoffed. He was apologizing to her? It should be the other way around. She would say as much if she had a voice in this world.

Whatever expression was visible on her face seemed to upset him. “Kairi, I know we kinda avoided certain topics before I…you know. I didn’t want you to be sad. But I’m worried about how you’re handling all this.”

She carefully avoided his gaze. Not well. But was there a “good” way to handle grief? It was like her mother had said. There was no “right” way to grieve. Just whatever helped you get through the next hour, the next minute, the next second. Grief was like an unwelcome, unwanted acquaintance she couldn’t get rid of. The best she could do was learn to deal with its constant presence. She’d lost her birth parents and grandmother ages ago, so it wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with grief before. But every grief is unique, and the grief of Sora’s loss still felt so raw and fresh and wrong.

“You don’t blame yourself for my death, do you?” Sora asked, his voice pained and his eyes anguished as he cut through her thoughts.

She would’ve been silent even if she could’ve spoken to him. He knew her all too well.

His face went pale. “You do,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Kairi, it wasn’t your fault.”

Yes it was. If she hadn’t been so weak, she wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped, and if she hadn’t gotten kidnapped, she wouldn’t have been struck down, and if she hadn’t been struck down, then Sora wouldn’t have had to abuse the Power of Waking to save her.

Honestly, he should’ve just let her be lost forever. She would’ve preferred that to this.

“You don’t believe me,” he said, his voice breaking. He reached for her hand, but of course his hand went right through hers. Frustration and pain flickered across his face, like he couldn’t bear this physical separation any more than she could.

“If you have to blame anyone, blame me,” he said. “I was the one who was reckless with my own life. But I wasn’t reckless for the sake of being reckless. There was just something so much more important at stake.”

Tears blurred her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to shed them or express them here, but they were there all the same.

“I couldn’t abandon you,” Sora said, his eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t leave you trapped in Xehanort’s grasp forever. Don’t you see? I had no choice but to rescue you. I wouldn’t be myself if I left you to your fate just like you wouldn’t be yourself if you’d let me die at the Keyblade Graveyard. It’s true that we could’ve made other choices, but we never would. That’s what…that’s what love is, Kairi. Always wanting the best for the other person to the point it compels you to act.”

Sora was right. She would never let him die. Except that she had. And she knew how he felt about her. She just felt utterly and completely unworthy of his love because of her failure.

And yet…if she told him that, how would it make him feel? Like she was spitting in his face and saying his sacrifice wasn’t worth it? That he wasn’t worth it? She could never. She struggled to like herself, but Sora she loved with all her heart. Maybe…maybe if he really did see something in her worth loving, then there was something about her worth loving.

“I wish I could hear your voice,” he said sadly. “Your laughter. I really miss your laughter. Your smile, too.”

It struck her that he hadn’t smiled this entire time either. She missed his smile so much.

“I know now’s not really the time for smiles, but maybe…when we meet again…”

She nodded. She didn’t feel like smiling now, but if she could be reunited with Sora in the flesh, she might feel differently.

“I think you’re gonna wake up soon,” he said. “You’re flickering. But this won’t be the end, I swear. We’ll meet again. Either I’ll find a way home or you’ll find a way to me, I just know it.”

She nodded a little more confidently this time. The future was so uncertain, but this strange dream had given her fresh hope.

“Until then,” he said, then leaned close and gently kissed her cheek.

Kairi’s eyes fluttered open. A quick glance out the window told her it was still dark outside, and the flames in her little room’s fireplace had been reduced to glowing embers. She was cold, and yet her cheek felt so warm.

She touched it. Faint memories of Sora flickered through her mind, but they were already slipping out of her grasp. She grabbed the little diary next to her bed and jotted down as many things as she could remember. But it wasn’t much. Just a big city, his blue eyes, a steaming cup of coffee, and a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek.

Well, and one more thing. In her diary she added: I don’t remember the exact words, but I have this deep, lingering sense of peace. Like he loves me and promised we’d meet again. Maybe it’s just my own foolish imagination, but if it helps me feel better, I think it’s okay.

With that she closed the little book and rolled over onto her side, pulling the blanket closer for warmth as she took a few more minutes to rest before getting up. She wished she could remember more details from the dream, but the fact she’d dreamed about him at all brought her great comfort.

Maybe…maybe we will succeed. Maybe I will get to see him again. I just need to be patient and make the most of my life right now.

She was tired of just existing. She wanted to live again. Wanted to enjoy all the little things and appreciate the people in her life right now. And even if she got Sora back and they got their happily ever after, one of them would still outlive the other. There was a phrase that got omitted from modern fairy tales, “until their deaths.” “They lived happily until their deaths” was how the stories always used to end, but at some point someone had decided the “until their deaths” part was too sad to include, so everyone removed it from the ends of stories and replaced it with “ever after” as if that would remove death from reality.

Kairi was beginning to think this was a grave mistake. Pretending death didn’t exist wouldn’t help kids deal with it better. And death was no respecter of persons. It came for the young as well as the old, the healthy as well as the sick, the strong as well as the weak. Might as well help people prepare for that and make the most of the time they have in this life and the most of the time they have with their loved ones.

Sora, if we do get a second chance to be together, I promise I’ll never take a single moment with you for granted again. And I’ll do everything in my power to help you come home.

Satisfied with her promises to him, she got out of bed. Enough waiting and wondering. It was time to act.

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A/N: Thank you for reading! I wanted to explore Kairi's survivor's guilt and grief in more depth, including the different facets and expressions of it. I wanted her to get to be angry and frustrated and sad and hurt, and it was cathartic to write.

I always thought it was interesting how death in the KH universe is defined as the soul (tamashii) and body (nikutai) being separated. Your heart (kokoro) and your body can be separated and you'll continue to exist (granted as a Heartless + Nobody), but if your soul and your body get split up, you'll die for real. (This is all delineated in Secret Ansem's Report #4). So I tried to incorporate that bit of KH lore into the story.

As always I enjoy delving into fairy tale stuff and researching the ways different languages handle the start and end of stories (English of course has the classic "Once upon a time…they all lived happily ever after" formula, but there are other variants like the "they lived happily until their deaths" one).

And then what would one of my KH stories be without an exploration of free will, the nature of existence, and various metaphysical ponderings? That stuff just always slips into my KH fics these days.

Happy SoKai Day!

[cquackity]

THE dog ever !!!

THANK YOU!!! for you here's something from a c!tntduo quackity centric fic i wrote a long time ago :3 actually i think its one of my first fics from like early 2021

Wilbur pressed fresh clothes into Quackity’s outstretched arms. A large shirt with some male manipulator band Quackity had never heard of, and baggy sweatpants. Quackity waited while Wilbur leaned over the tub to fiddle with the handles. He tested the water several times to make sure it was perfect before turning back to Quackity.

“Temperature should be fine,” he said, and Quackity smirked as he loitered. 

“Are you leaving?” 

“Ah, I– well,” Wilbur started, and Quackity grabbed his arm and jerked him towards the door.

“Because I’d really let you get lucky in Philza Minecraft’s house.” He laughed at Wilbur’s dejected expression. Quackity patted his chest, before reaching up to press a kiss into his cheek. “Another night.” And for a second he meant it – for a second he forgot that they were running out of time.

“If you need anything–” 

“I won’t.” Wilbur was shoved out, and with that last remark, Quackity shut the door and locked it. Not only were they both wasted, but Quackity’s body was a nightmare. Nobody should, or could, see him in that state. It was a surprise that Wilbur even wanted to touch him. 

He started to peel off his white shirt, now brown with blood and grime, off his body. It was crusted to his skin in several places, so much so that pulling it off made Quackity wince in pain. Next came his pants, which were in a similar condition. When finally those were off, and he was bare, Quackity took a moment to study himself in the mirror. 

It had been weeks since he’d stared into his own eyes. Out of some compulsion, one he couldn't understand, he'd covered all of the mirrors in Las Nevadas. Seeing the dried blood he’d ignored for so long made him full-body shudder. Whether it was his or Dream’s, there was no way to tell. A long cut was gashed along his thigh, from when he’d fallen into Purpled’s trap and landed on a sharp rock. Various other bruises and scratches stained his body. When he turned his face and brushed his matted hair aside, the place where Wilbur punched him was bright red, and undoubtedly would turn black the next day.

I used to be beautiful. When had it all gone wrong, had he gone wrong? When Technoblade permanently scarred him? Earlier, during his relationship with Schlatt? The desire for revenge twisted every part of Quackity’s life until even his reflection was unrecognizable. Disgusted by the man before him, Quackity turned away and got into the shower.

Wilbur and Philza owned every hair product under the sun. Quackity spent a small amount of time before deciding on a simple shampoo and conditioner, both smelling flowery, before massaging the products into his scalp. It took longer than usual, having to tug out several knots. The body wash array was just as varied as the hair products, and he grabbed at random – a rose water-based one. Great. Quackity wasn’t excited to come out smelling like a bouquet, but then again, anything was better than the blood and body odor. 

He scrubbed until his skin was as red as his cheek as if the water could wash away the hatred that consumed his life. Charlie was right – and he only realized that when it was too late, now that he was gone. Quackity bit his cheek to keep from breaking down again in the shower, determined to save the inevitable cry-fest for when he’s by Charlie’s side again. He could fix this. He had to. If only to show his best friend that he could be different, that they could laugh again together. 

The water was still warm when he shut it off, toweling himself dry and slipping on the clothes Wilbur had provided. They smelled unmistakably of him. Quackity stood and inhaled it in for several long seconds, drunk and stricken. Cinnamon, wet grass, earth, and smoke.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 8: !!NOTE: this is different from the past polls - rather than choosing a story action, you're picking supplies to craft a little makeshift boat (EX: wood will be the main platform, so there should likely be the most of it, however, if there were 100% votes for branches and 0% votes for rope, then it'd just be a pile of wood held together by nothing - keep them balanced reasonably, etc.))

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should get around the barrier by crafting a little boat to take a river detour….

~

Finally crawling out of his hiding spot in the brambles, he meticulously brushes the leaves from his clothes and composes himself, now fully focused on his generic traveler's map of the area... After checking it about 500 times just to make sure he isn't confused, he determines that going down the nearby river would likely still get him where he's trying to go, and hopefully be much less treacherous than wandering through haunted forests or confronting the stern gaze of the barrier guards..

It only takes about 10 minutes of following a narrower rocky path off the main road to reach a nice shaded spot of land next to a small river. He kneels in the grass, eagerly rummaging through his backpack for supplies, in addition to whatever he can scavenge from the edge of the woods. The rush of excitement slowly dissipates however, once he realizes that he.. actually.. might not know how to make a raft as well as he thought... Surely it's quite straightforward, no? Just.. make it look like it does in picture books?? There are no rules, as long as it floats, it works! Probably anyone could build one on intuition alone! ... maybe...???

.. Once again sinking into a cloud of anxiety, he slumps over, staring at the pile of materials with teary eyes, doubtful what to even do next.... How should he build the raft? Help him by using the poll to choose the appropriate amounts of materials (determined by final % of votes in that category)!

[letstalktea]

Mycorrhiza (Part 1)

Content: No ship (in part 1), copious amounts of alcohol consumption, accidental human sacrifice

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: I failed to finish this one before the posting date. Good thing it’s actually a combination of day 3 and day 17. So just hang tight for part 2 on the 17th (which is where all the sex will actually be). And while you’re here, check out @undead-merman @necros-writing-stuff @inkyquince @angrelysimpping. Not sure why you’d be here if you haven’t read their work already. 

The bonfire raged, cackling and crackling and snapping into the night air while you chugged another cheap beer that went down like water. The wind of the campsite brushed cool against your hot skin, tempering your nerves enough that you kept some sense of rationality. Not a lot, but enough to keep yourself from passing out next to an open fire and falling off the log where you currently sat.

You finished the last of your beer and tossed the bottle aside, wiping away any stray droplets that fell out of the corner of your mouth.

"Pass me another one," your words slurred as you spoke.

Your friend, who was just as drunk as you were at this point, reached into the cooler beside him and pulled out an unopened bottle to toss to you. Unfortunately, they were drunk enough to completely whiff it and toss the beer straight past you, into the bushes just past the clearing where you sat.

"Fuck, man. What was that?" 

"Iunno." They burped and tossed back the beer in their hand. "Ya want it or not?"

Beer was beer, so of course you wanted it. You paid good money for it. It was yours.

You groaned at your aching muscles as you leaned all of your weight against your knees and rose to your full height, stretching your back and feeling something along your spine you hadn't known was misaligned pop back into place. Sitting so low to the ground had a way of making you feel twenty years older than you were, especially when you got up. It didn't help that you couldn't feel your legs or ass properly after sitting on the log for so long.

After you waded through the pain of blood rushing back into your legs and the pins and needles that came with it, you finally bothered to walk toward the surrounding bushes. 

In your inebriated state, you didn’t consider the risk of wild animals or toxic plants. All you cared about was the beer that had gotten away from you and it was out of the firelight and past the ominous bushes so high they could easily hide a serial killer. Maybe you would tell your friend a story to freak them out about the foliage after you raised your blood alcohol content a little higher. 

You brushed aside the bushes, wincing when one of the branches scratched you, but not deterred from your mission.

Nature was beautiful. Even drunk out of your skull, you could appreciate it for what it was. Flowers and sparkling insects and the glittering sky and all the animals that wouldn’t fuck you up. It was all so beautiful, which is why it was the most fun to drink out away from the city. That’s why you were going to enjoy all your beer while you could; because you deserved to enjoy pretty sights while you were having a good time.

But what you found past the bushes made you pause. It was still nature – still part of the campsite – but it looked out of place. It was a clearing right next to your own, perfect for another tent or even one of those massive campers. Yet no one had claimed it. You knew for a fact that the campsite was full (because you had a rough time finding your own spot) so the fact that there was a massive plot of unclaimed land was weird.

When you looked out at it though, you could almost understand why. It was really pretty in an ethereal sort of way. Grass as far as the eye could see and not a working fire pit in sight. The grass looked lush and fresh, but it was the only thing growing throughout the entire clearing. Well, the only thing aside from some weird looking mushrooms that bloomed in freaky colors; reds, blues, greens, purples, oranges, browns; a rainbow of fungus.

But it wasn’t just the colors that were freaky. It was the way they grew in a perfect circle that captivated you.

"Holy shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

You had to show this to your friend.

“Dude!" you shouted over the wind blowing through the trees. "You gotta come see this!"

In the nearby distance, you could hear the same bushes you'd wandered through rustling as your friend pushed their way through. 

"What is it?" they asked as they swatted at the bushes and stepped through the branches and leaves with minor scratches on their exposed skin, the skin that they wouldn’t even notice unless they looked directly at them and even then would wonder where they had come from.

You pointed to the strange circle of mushrooms that seemed to grow separately from everything around it. “Take a look at that.”

They squinted their eyes to see what you were pointing at in the darkness. When they finally made it out, they started laughing. “That’s a- a- a- fairy thing. A- ring! That’s a fairy ring!”

"A what?"

"It's a fancy name for circles of mushrooms. People used to think they were cursed or something. If you messed with them or stepped into one, the fairies would get pissed and make your life hell."

"Seriously?" You chuffed.

"Seriously." Your friend laughed purely from drunkenness rather than actual amusement. "It's not like they had science back then. Everything was magical bullshit."

"Huh…" A devious thought entered your head. "Wanna see how right they were?"

"What?" They kept laughing, but this time in disbelief. "You planning to phone a fairy and ask what kind of nasty curses they got up their sleeve?"

"Sorta like that."

You grabbed them by the arm and pulled them forward, giggling like an idiot as they stumbled forward. They fell off center and went tumbling toward the ground just as you managed to toss them into the circle.

As soon as they crashed onto their hands and knees, you started to speak in a voice that was as deep and booming as you could manage, attempting to copy the shitty B-movies you'd seen over the years. "Oh, great fairies! I make this offering to you in exchange for hella ass and dicks so fat they'll throw out my back and break my jaw. And I would appreciate if you threw in cuddles after."

You both waited in silence.

When nothing happened, your friend rose to their feet and dusted themselves off. "You're such an ass."

"Awww," you condescended. "Were you afraid the big bad fairies would get you?"

"Nah," they squatted down in that perfect way that warned you they were planning to take off I to a sprint, "but you should be afraid of when I get ahold of you."

They launched upward toward you before you could react, but instead of getting closer and potentially grabbing you in a headlock they way you knew they usually would, they seemed to take a single step forward and then stop.

They looked down at their foot, then their expression twisted into confusion. You followed their gaze and saw why. The force of their step had somehow been enough to sink their shoe partway into the grassy circle. It was similar to how wet sand would grab onto your foot at the beach.

"Oh, shit. You okay?" you asked, sobering up very quickly after seeing their predicament.

"Yeah. I just… didn't expect that. Guess this spot must get a lot of water or something and make it all soft."

They tried to yank their leg upward to no avail. If anything, their shoe seemed to sink deeper into the grass.

"Dude, take it off," you told them.

"No way. These are the only pair I brought. I'm not staying out here barefoot."

"We can pack up early and go home. It's not good to be out here anyway if the ground's this loose."

They clicked their tongue. "Fine, but you're buying 'em since you pushed me in here." They slipped their foot out of the shoe, grumbling as they did so.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on them to head back through the bushes to where you'd left your belongings. "Don't be a baby. Shit happens."

"Yeah, shit like you being an a- WHAT THE FUCK!"

You whipped your head around, jaw going agape the moment you saw what had caught them off guard.

Their shoe still sat where they had left it half in the grass, but the ground was now devouring their leg. Not their foot. Their leg. All the way up to their knee, their leg had sunken into the ground.

"What the fuck!?!?" You yelled the same way they just had.

"I don't know! It felt like something grabbed me." They were starting to hyperventilate. "Help me out before I sink deeper."

"Y- yeah," you stammer before stepping inside the ring of mushrooms to help them.

They reached their hand out to you and you grabbed onto their wrist for leverage to pull them out of the spot they were sinking into. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled as hard as you could. Even as you pulled, they kept sinking deeper. Before you knew it, their other leg had begun to fall into the earth as well.

“Something’s got me. It’s pulling me down.”

“Stop panicking,” you shouted hypocritically. “There’s nothing down there!”

But, it was strange. No matter how hard you pulled, they seemed to keep getting deeper. So deep that only their upper torso was still visible at this point. You though? You seemed to be standing above ground just fine. In fact, it was as if the sinkhole was only opening up below them.

They were gripping onto your wrist so tightly that their nails dug into your skin and started to draw blood. Even then, they were still going downward. Your back ached as it arched, bending as they dragged you down with them.

Their eyes were blown wide, in terror or realization that they weren’t going to see the sunrise you weren’t sure. “HELP!” They screamed one last time as the earth swallowed their head and left only their outstretched arm, the one you were holding onto, above ground.

You knew you couldn’t pull them out anymore. You knew that, but you couldn’t let them go. Letting go was like giving up on them and, even though it was clear you should, you didn’t want to.

So you kept letting them drag you down.

Down. Down. Down. One agonizing second at a time, you watched as the last of them vanished beneath the dirt and knew that you would soon be swallowed up too. Fight or Flight often forgot their sister Freeze and that bitch was the one catching your gaze right now. Your chest heaved as your fingers neared the ground, ready to finally meet the beginning of your own muddy grave.

The second your fingers touched the ground, however, all you felt was solid earth. 

There was no give to the dirt. No muddy texture or damp patches. There wasn’t even a hole in the ground or a break in the grass, even though you had just seen your friend get pulled down into it. 

There was simply nothing.

Next

[deerydear]

I painted this after I woke up from a dream.

In this dream... We were out in the middle of a pine forest. There was a log cabin where the other men lived. Doctor Lecter and I were visiting.

We talked, and I sat and endured the conversations they all had. I was trapped in my own little iceberg of self-torment.

As if... all Life would send out its feelers towards me, and then stop, shrink up, and go the other direction...

So they all had tea. It was rather dark in the cabin. There weren't a lot of windows, or else most of them were covered up. No candles. Just a thin stream of gentle blue daylight filtering in from the kitchen, somewhere...

This also reminds me of a dream where I poisoned a bunch of people.

They were all sitting around a round table, eating the food I had cooked.

The people started projectile-vomiting copious amounts of black sludge. It reminded me of Sweeney Todd, for whatever reason.

I think of this, because they had a window behind the kitchen table.... with a criss-cross pattern dividing it up into many little windows. The blinds were down, and the sheer shades were closed. It had much the same effect of light as this room with the men.

So, we had been there for a while... and some of the guests were leaving. Soon, I was alone with Hannibal and one other man.

I was slouched over, in a sour mood... I didn't want to be there. I didn't know where I wanted to be, so I let the moment pull me like a current.

One thing led to another, and I took out a flintlock pistol and I shot the other man. I began to gasp for air, panic. Then, Lecter tried to shush me. He wanted me to relax.

Did I tell you that my name was Graham?

Well, at some point.... my memory turns to sludge.

I ran. I unlatched the door, I ran out into the broad daylight. It was so bright outside. I almost had forgotten. The trees were swaying in the wind...

I came to the rocky lakeshore.

A giant animal stuck its head out of the water. It was a Manatee, chewing sea-grass in the familiar manner of a cow. It had a long, long neck... and it looked at me with familiar affection.

This was a long time ago, but in the state I had been in... I was like a Starving Man in the Land of Plenty. Someone would reach out their hands to me, and I would have run away for dear Life. ......Dear Death?

Did I love Death more than Life?

Well, I was in this mind-state. My mind was grasping for some point of familiarity.... something to right itself upon.

Something to feel like I knew something? To be superior in knowledge...

So, in this disconnected state... I grasped onto the two little pinpricks of light that I saw.

It was like there was a burlap bag over my head, and the holes where the lights came in were stars.

I wanted to create a menagerie of constellations.... of MEANING.

but the truth was that I could take the bag off, and see the full glory of the light, and the picture of the world.

So, in my dream, I tried to put two and two together.

I yelled at this gentle giant. I remember I said, "Plesiosaurs ate fish, not plants!"

My reasoning was that I thought this was supposed to be "the Loch Ness monster" and a common theory was that Nessie was a Plesiosaur. You see all the assumptions I had just made about someone in a dream?

Well, that gentle beast recedes.

It stuck its head back in the water..... and OUT EMERGED A WAXY RED FACE, WITH TWO BIG BLACK HORNS!

OH YES, YOU ASKED FOR A PLESIOSAUR, HAVE YOU SURE GOT ONE!

AND IT CHASED ME AROUND THE SHORELINE WITH ITS LONG, TELESCOPIC NECK!

In the commotion, I woke up.

.......

"I actually saw the Loch Ness monster when I was 9" -- Thom Yorke

SOMEONE ELSE SAW IT!

I really felt like it could have gone differently. I felt very agentive in this dream.

I felt that it was trying to show me something about my own mind.

It wasn't that I was trying to find my way out of the burlap bag... I already knew what life was like outside of it.

I wanted to put my pants on my head, and run around like a retard!

I wanted to play pretend. I wanted to find the meaning in that starry sky. I wanted it to be more than just the inside of a burlap bag!

Maybe once before, I had been shoved inside of a bag... but it was for a brief time, but the experience haunted me.

I kept going back, like an autoerotic-asphyxiator... seeking that high I once felt.

Seeking the dark, dark depths, and the light within the dark... but the light of the dark is no different than the light outside.

It all loops around, you see?

[mysteriesatthecoffeeshop]

Old Green Eyes and other Lores from the Chickamauga Battlefield

(Note from our hosts: We apologize for the quality of Episode 1 of our podcast - we are new to this and have since increased in quality and decreased in awkwardness. Thank you)

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The Chickamauga Battlefield is located in the northern part of Georgia in a city called Fort Oglethorpe. If you ask around, locals will describe the area as "beautiful" and "serene" during the day, and I agree! During the summers - I recall looking out on the lush rolling fields, watching the tall grass sway with the wind. The sky is the brightest of blues, the sun is shining bright, but the canopy of trees keeps you tucked away from it's rays. The battlefield has some of my best memories.

The name "Chickamauga" is Cherokee in origin. The land originally belonged to a smaller branch of the Cherokee Nation known as the Chickamauga Tribe. Although there are many variations of the word Chickamauga - some historians believe that is comes from the word "Chicamaco" meaning "dwelling place by the water" - water, referring to the Chickamauga Creek (two short tributaries of the Tennessee River that run north and south) . However, many believe that the word actually means "River of Death". (Which is honestly very accurate as you will soon find out)

With the amount of people that come to battlefield to sight see (or you know - catch pokemon because every grave stone/ monument is a pokestop) It's hard to believe that this is (basically) a large graveyard that once was covered in the blood and corpses of soldiers. Evidence of a battle that is deep rooted in the history of the south. On September 20th 1863 - the last cannonballs were shot. The Confederacy had won after three hard days of hell on Earth. It was considered the first major win for the confederacy but it came at a cost - The Confederacy had 18,454 casualties while the Union had 16,170 casualties.

Note: Casualties = killed, wounded, missing, or captured

The Battle of Chickamauga was considered the second bloodiest battle of the Civil War (for the number of casualties) right after The Battle of Gettysburg.

So yeah the battlefield is hella haunted, and if you were to ask anyone from the area if they had any stories - most of them will.

My dad for instance - told me that there was a time in his life where he had to drive through the battlefield at around 4-5am every morning in order to get to work. Now, my dad doesn't scare easily at all, nor is he one to make up stories. According to him, shadows can be seen walking or dashing across the road, even if you have your high lights on.

Remember how I said earlier that there was a a canopy of trees there? Well because of that - it is pitch black at night and I have definitely been spooked a couple of times driving through (okay - it's not hard to spook me. Jump scares, no matter what it is, will always get me).

Another incident that had happened within my family was when my niece was about two or three years old. My sister in law and her mother decided to take her for a stroll in the battlefield. It was a beautiful day and they wanted to get some fresh air. This would be my niece's first time going to the battlefield as my sister in law and brother had just moved back home from being stationed in North Carolina. As they strolled past one of the open fields my niece began to giggle. This was odd to my sister in law as my niece was asleep in the stroller with a pacifier in her mouth just a few minutes prior. She brushed it off only for her to giggle again a few minutes later. She asked her what she was laughing at and the toddler's response was "Mommy. Look at all those silly people. They're so silly. They're all falling down." She lifted up her arm and pointed her her little finger out to the empty field. My sister and her mother high tailed it out of there. There was no way for a toddler to know or even understand what went on there, not to mention there had been no talk of the battlefield prior to this event. Could it be that she was watching a ghostly replay of civil war soldiers dying on the battlefield?

There are also other known beings in the battlefield other than shadows and apparitions:

Old Green Eyes The Lady In White The Headless Horseman Bodies in the Bloody Pond Another note to add is that the Civil War was not the only occurrence of death in the area:

So, does Chickamauga earn the name "River of Death"? Are these beings actually out there or is a whole city of people just seeing things? Find out more by listening to Mysteries At The Coffee Shop on Youtube, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and more!

If you loved this article or video and want more, feel free to add us on social media:

This article was written by: Chalena K.

[another-hyrule]

When I went to school in the state over, I could tell there was something slightly off about the sides of the roads. The grasses/trees were definitely just a bit different (same species for the most part, less of the watery ones). I spent a lot of my childhood out in the woods tho.

So! I definitely think the chain would know their own forests On Sight.

Especially since most of their adventures had them in the woods A Lot and many of them spent a significant amount of time collecting Bugs! Or other natural things! They were out in their woods day and night and paying close attention to the grasses (chopping them lol) and the wildlife.

I’d also like to mention that smell and sunlight probably play a big role in noticing and recognizing their own Hyrule! These places aren’t just geoguesser pictures. Sunlight angles are the kind of subconscious thing that your brain picks up on. And the Smell! The smell of Your Dirt, and Your Trees is apparent as soon as you smell Different Dirt.

I think maybe Wars would have a hard time if they got dropped in his Woods, since his story is just abt the only one that doesn’t involve a journey through nature.

Little Chain and their Woods Relationship under the cut

Sky - collected all kinds of bugs! Feathers! And things! From the surface. Skyloft’s biome would be second nature to him ofc, but by the end of that journey he’s gotten plenty of surface time to know what’s supposed to be around.

Four - Minish time! Imagine spending time with the grass AS a bug! His relationship with the woods probably involves paying attention to rodent paths in tall grass and noticing snake holes and rabbit burrows. In four swords he does enough walking through woods for four people! (Haha)

Time - oh this guy Grew Up in the woods. Local fairy boy knows what’s up.

Legend - mr well traveled himself has definitely already had the experience of seeing nature that isn’t home before and marking the differences! (also he knows abt bees)

Hyrule - most of this guy’s world Is Not Town. Even tho the nature traveling is short in Adventure of Link, in his actual experience he still had to go back and forth through a lot of woods and other nature.

Wind - uhhhhhhh, water! Boy knows his sea! And his islands! He could tell you the differences in the smell of the ocean breeze this kid. Basically as soon as he gets to a place he goes, “nope, not enough water.” Interesting to think this is the most land this kid has had to travel probably ever. Bet that’s a little unsettling.

Twilight - farm boy farm boy farm boy! Before he even Heroes himself, this guy has to trim back vines and spiky plants from fence posts, takes Epona out on riding paths, and Y’all remember he can Call a Hawk with grass??? I think he’s very familiar with a lot of different plant types! Very important to not have the nasty ones near your ordon goats.

Wild - literally the Link of the Wild. What else should I say???

Wars - and yeah, finally the one link who I think spent not a lot of time Thinking about, or having to travel amongst nature. A lot of the other Hyrules’ woods might seem just similar enough that he has to look to know if anyone else recognizes it first.

I always found it a little funny of how when the chain gets to another time period they usually instantly know if it's theirs or not. Chat, could you recognize your home from a forest?

[pglasses]

Polarised Sunglasses

Polarised sunglasses or anti glare lenses prevent the horizontal sun rays and reduce light glare and eyestrain. This quality makes them sun safe and they improve vision as well. To understand how anti glare lenses work, firstly we should know the working of UV rays. Sun rays are non- uniform and the sun rays which meets our eyes is scattered as it is reflected from an uneven surface i.e rock, grass and ground surface. But when these sun rays are reflected from an even and smooth surface like the surface of a calm body of water or the hood of a car, the light is reflected in one direction causing distraction which damages glare.

Fun fact - The first polarised sunglasses were made in 1936 by Edwin H. Land who experimented with lenses and uses his patented polarised lens.

Sunglasses are meant to protect against UV rays and light glare but polarized sunglasses are specifically made to obstruct intense glare while allowing only a limited amount of light to pass through them.

But what is Glare ?

Glare is excessive and intense light formed in the field of vision. It causes discomfort and reduces visibility. Older people are much more sensitive to glare due to ageing of the eye. Glare can hinder person’s vision ability to distinguish objects, though for a temporary phase of time.

Benefits of Polarised Sunglasses

When in outdoor, it completely cuts out glare proving it safe for day driving, outdoor exercise and any activity including water as it improves visibility .

It provides complete protection from UV A and UV B rays which are harmful for our eye health and can cause long term effects.

It improves clarity and can make an already beautiful natural scenery more vibrant and colorful, as any reflection is prevented by these glasses to pass through.

They can reduce eye strain to a max level. As polarised glasses can reduce unnecessary glare, it causes less fatigue which ultimately causes less to no eye strain.

Another important use of this lens can be seen in day driving. Glares from the sun reflected off surfaces can make driving hazardous, specially during sunrise and sunset. Polarised Sunglasses cut out these glare and provides more clear vision adding to your safety.

Polarised Sunglasses are useful for everyday and most of the people but here are some specific situations where it can be utilised to it’s maximum potential –

Fishing – polarised sunglasses cut out glare after sun rays reflect from a water surface. With polarised sunglasses on one can actually see into the water. Ultimately lens tint also affect fishing and your vision. Grey tinted lenses are best sunny  days as the colour transmits all colours of the spectrum creating less distortion in open waters. Copper tint absorbs blue light and increases contrast making it perfect for sight fishing. Amber colour is best for low light condition maybe on an heavily overcast day. Apparently, the lens material also add in the effectiveness of the lens. Glass although expensive provides the clearest vision and is smudge proof. Polycarbonate is lightweight and impact resistant. Acrylic is moderately durable reflecting over 99% of the glare. Polarised Sunglasses works best when you look into the water at an angle and not straight down.

Snowy Environment – as polarised glasses cut down glare reflected from the snow surface, it can be useful in a snowy area. These can protect you from snow blindness aka photokeratitis during winter season. Snow blindness can cause discomfort in eye due to prolonged exposure to UV rays. Polarised Sunglasses come in handy during these rough conditions.

Buying polarised sunglasses will be a wise choice and best if you’re outdoor activities such as fishing, trekking, skiing and generally driving.

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[mirdance]

Horny Resonance

Chapter 1: Be Careful What You Wish For

Summary: When traveler finds oculi and resonates with a statue, that respective archon gets horny. That's it. That's the plot. (For reasons, Sumeru will be exempt from this headcanon. ty and have a blessed day.)

Rating: Explicit NSFW Tags: Non-con elements, Dubious consent, Masturbation, Forced Orgasm. Venti gets fucked by the wind. Hopefully I'll update this from time to time and with different archons and scenarios. Feel free to produce your own headcanons. I'll update tags as I go.

Venti had been called upon to play the lyre for a party at Angel’s Share.  A couple of adventurers had become engaged to be wed.  Venti was vaguely familiar with the couple, just as he was any person walking by.  Neither were particularly interesting to him, both enjoyed fighting more than the arts.  Venti would never understand that sort of mindset; even war was full of art.  Where people walked, humanity would trail behind, even if it was hard to see.  It was a surprise to be hired, and the couple didn’t provide him with a playlist, only stating not to sing much.  They only wanted background noise. Hmph. 

He ended up sitting in a corner, idly plucking at his lyre with no rhyme or reason.  The few times he’d tried to serenade a table ended up with him being shooed away, as if he, the best bard in all of Mondstadt, were a nuisance.  He’d never been so insulted, as an artist and as a tavern goer.   The bellowing laughter of men melted with the boring conversations and haze that traversed the room.  Two women heavily smoked in one corner, occasionally playing footsie beneath the table as they blushed behind their kegs.  Venti had even tried to ease their nerves by playing them an upbeat romance, but they acted as if he were the most intrusive being on the planet.  Well, they wouldn’t be so nervous if they’d allowed his music to satisfy their ears. 

But more importantly, Venti wasn’t getting any tips.  No tips meant no alcohol.  No alcohol meant he couldn’t drown his sorrows for the evening and actually have some fun in the Celestia forsaken place.  And he wasn’t getting paid until after the fare.  Sure, it was the middle of the week, but it was rowdier than usual, and he wanted to play around, too.  He should be dancing on the table and singing loud enough for Dawn Winery to hear. 

Despite his internal grumpiness, he continued to bounce and smile along with the rhythm of his fingers.  The atmosphere was robust, rambunctious, but all too empty in soul, making him keenly aware of the amount of separation between his seat and the crowd. 

Unfortunately, Diluc was not there to bother; some new bartender was fumbling with a rag and a glass behind the empty counter.  Hm.  He looked rather botherable.  Would he even notice Venti singing a song?  The room was so loud, maybe he could sneak in a ballad and create a scene to liven up the atmosphere.  He cleared his throat and tested a few notes on his tongue.  No one turned to look at him.  He chuckled.

Monstadtian rain men traversed green lands

Singing their hydrating songs to the earth    

To aide and cleanse it of human sin   

While men continued in their births   

Picnics, parties, and sunshine’s mirth  

The rain men didn’t want to impose  

As lovers tumbled through the green grass’s worth 

And with their lips cursing rainy prose    

The sunshine lifted the damp curse   

Until only one rain man stood alongside his woes   

And Sang Sang Sang…

The bartender roughly sat his glass on the counter with a thuck and glared.  Whoopsie.  Venti beamed his best beaming smile and sauntered to the bar to have a seat.  He set his harp to the side and asked for a glass of water.

“Ehe, sorry about the singing,” Venti spoke. “You know, I was just so caught up in the atmosphere.  I couldn’t help myself!”

The bartender grunted in response and slid a water to the bard.  He grabbed another glass behind him and began polishing.

Making friends with the bartender meant good alcohol, and hey, since the guy was new, maybe it meant free alcohol.  Though, Venti would have to put on his best charm for it.  He leaned forward and rested his chin upon the back of his hands.  “I haven’t seen you around these parts.  Seems you’re doing great for such a busy day.  How long have you been bartending?”

The man didn’t take his eyes off the glass.  “Four years.  Took a break cuz my cat died.”

Venti wasn’t really fond of cats; he couldn’t imagine actually being distraught over one.  He itched his nose and tried not to show any signs of displeasure on his face.  “Wow, that’s really rough.  It’s good you’re back, though!  It’s hard losing a friend.”

The man shrugged.  “I guess.”

Bartenders were supposed to be experts of conversation.  Who hired this guy?  Venti would have to poke fun of Diluc later.  “Ha.” He drummed his fingers against the glistening counter that the man must have wiped down a thousand times.  “Well, what’s your specialty tonight, my dear bartender?”

He shrugged yet again.  “Dunno.  I just make the alcohol people ask for.”

“Yup yup.  That is how bartending works.  Do you have a favorite mi—”

The man swung the rag over his shoulder with a revolting smack and sat the glass on the counter behind him.  He walked out of the bar area.  Venti pouted and rubbed his temples.  Rude.  No free drink tonight it seemed.  The man probably wouldn’t last another day in the business, anyway. 

Well, whatever.  Surely Venti could find something else fun to occupy his time.

He took a large gulp of water and choked.  The smell of Dandelion Wine enraptured his scent even though he’d only ordered water.  He brought the glass of water to his nose and inhaled, probably looking rather foolish.  It really just smelled like water and looked like water, but the winds dancing through the open window behind the bar brought in smells of dandelions and wine and asters with hints of pastures.  As if he were drinking wine, warmth spread from the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat and edged into his lower belly.  The weather wasn’t nearly as hot as it typically was in late spring, yet the wind coming through the window hugged his shoulders like a hot summer day.  The bartender was no where to be found, and the chatter of tavern goers became like a distant memory once the wind caressed his cheeks, almost forcing him to look forward, calling to him to climb out the window and run through the grassy fields.

Someone had touched one of the statues.  Starfell Valley?  He sent the winds out in question, but all he could feel were fingertips sliding through his braids in answer.  He shakily exhaled.  It felt…good.  Whoever or whatever was resonating held him at the tips of their fingers.  His back shivered, and goosebumps tickled the nape of his neck to his tailbone. 

People did often pay their respects to Barbatos and his statues, but his body had never had any particular reaction to them, especially a feeling of pleasure, never as if someone were braiding his hair or scratching his back.  As long as people were comforted in their traditions, Venti didn’t often bother with the statues, anyway.  He’d rather spend his days with a bottle of wine and an apple, sitting amongst the trees and watching clouds meander across the horizon. 

If resonating made him feel like this every time, he would have collapsed a long time ago. 

He crossed his legs and hid behind his glass of water.  Surely it would be over soon.  Maybe it was a powerful prayer or something weird.  The warmth of the wind lazily wandered from his belly to his inner thighs, which…was dangerous territory.  Were the winds toying with him? 

It seemed so, as heat spread like liquid from his inner thighs to his groin.  He glanced around the tavern, but no one seemed to be experiencing any ill effects or even paying attention to the bar.  Fuck, what was wrong with him?  He hadn’t touched a glass of wine since arriving, though he could hardly believe that himself. 

Well, whatever.  It wasn’t like he’d grow a boner in public.  The art of deception was one of his finest and shrinking his boner just another tool in his belt.  Perhaps it had simply been a while since he’d felt any sexual release.  Maybe his body was feeling tense after so many rude customers. 

The rush of hot blood spread through the veins of his cock, and he could feel the thing hardening between his thighs.  He uncrossed his legs and adjusted his shorts.  Thankfully, his bard getup called for baggy shorts.  No one would notice.  He’d just sit here with his water and sober his thoughts up until his unruly cock quieted.  Then he’d go back to playing whatever boring melody the party wanted. 

Except the longer he sat, the more the tip of his cock strained against his shorts.  The fabric burned against the slowly oozing precum that began staining through.  Crap crap crap!  If he stood up now to excuse himself, it would be obvious.  Maybe he could wrap his cape around his waist?  Run for it? 

Once the fog smoked up his glass in quick succession, that’s when he noticed his breathing had become labored.  Precum dribbled down his thighs and stuck to his stockings.  No friction, no touching, he didn’t understand why his cock felt so good just sitting there, as if the winds were guiding it with a hot hand.  Whatever spirit evaded him, they were too close and far past the flirty stage.  They should have at least bought him a drink.

As whatever it was stirred within his groin at a faster pace, his left leg twitched and bumped the counter.  Thankfully no one seemed to pay any mind.  He’d just have to sit here and enjoy whatever ride was forced upon him, for better or worse.  He’d gotten off in taverns with pretty folks on late nights before.  While the people drank and ate far away from his seat, oblivious to his inner chaos, he briefly wondered if this humiliation was punishment for drinking and fucking all the time instead of more godly pursuits.   

The corners of his eyes glazed over as the back of his ears burned through his skull.  The invisible power was pressing against his frenulum and rubbing in circles.  He leaned his chest against the counter to hide his trembling legs underneath.  His knuckles turned white as he gripped onto the glass of almost empty water. 

The bartender finally came out of the back with the curtains waving behind him in frustration as he poured Venti another glass.  “You sick or something?  I heard you’d sneak bottles in, go puke outside if you need to.”

Venti’s shaft bopped against his legs. “Yeah, sure, thanks for letting me know, mister.”

What had the guy said?  Venti could only concentrate on the window behind the man and the winds that softly ruffled the drying rags.  The same wind that ruffled his shorts and slithered across his shaft.  The bartender left his view and went to wipe something down, which was good since Venti had started biting his lip behind his glass until a drop of blood slid down the side and interspersed with the water like the veins in his cock.

He tapped his foot on the stool rest in time with the pattern.  Please please please be over soon.  He needed to get back to playing, making tips, hopefully getting drunk and finding whoever the fuck was teasing his body.

Fuck kkkkk kk fuck fuck fuck kkk

He slammed his head into his arms on the counter and gripped his hair, but just as he was on the edge, the winds dissipated.  He clenched his fists.  No, this was a good thing.  He could calm his boner down and get back to what he was doing.  And he would find who did this and—

His cock was stroked once more, harshly.  His salvia caught in his throat, and he coughed into the crook of his elbow as his orgasm tore through his legs.  He stayed as still as possible, allowing the trembling in his thighs to enter his belly so he could clench it away. 

He didn’t want to lift his head.  Even though his thighs were the sticky parts of his body, it felt as if every pore was soaked in moist morning dew.  His thighs now felt cool against the tavern air, the stain on the front of his shorts sticking to his shriveling cock like a robe after a bath. 

“Fuck me,” he whispered into his arms.  

He pushed his glass to the side, quickly wrapped his cape around him, and jumped off the stool.  He mumbled some excuse about meeting his next shift at the Cat’s Tail as the bartender walked over.  His cock hurt.   His ass hurt from clenching so tightly.  The room wasn’t quite spinning but it sure wasn’t staying still beneath his feet. 

The cum began crusting against his hosiery as he met the winds outside and marched towards somewhere he could wash off.   A bath.  He just needed a bath.  Then he’d find the culprit.  Hopefully he had money for a room.  It’s the least the deserved after being unceremoniously assaulted in front of peers.  Not that it didn’t feel amazing.  Partly.  Ugh.  He avoided the stares of the townsfolks and stumbled his way forward, trying his best not to trip on the cobblestone, not knowing whether to laugh or sob. 

[newts-and-sharks]

ok, so i decided to post what i had for modern noodles here, its unfinished and kinda cliff hangs, but im not really feeling up to finishing this :/

starts under cut :P

Well, this was…unexpected.

One second, you were just sipping on some water, enjoying the beautiful scenery that was your backyard that you had put so much blood, sweat, and tears into. Quite literally, too. It was a long and very painful process to get your yard into the pristine condition it’s in.

Or it was in.

Before some sort of meteor crash landed into the yard in a fiery blaze, leaving a good sized crater in the middle of it.

Now, here you are, trying to put out a multitude of white glittery flames that had made their homes in the willow tree and among the grass with only the old, dusty gardening hose you had. 

Great.

Not like you spent months, almost a year, making this yard the best looking damn yard on this whole shit show of a planet. Not like you have spent well over a reasonable amount of money on this small sliver of land. Not like you didn't toil tirelessly for months on end, landscaping under the sun, only for it to become carved out and set ablaze by this mystery aerial projectile.

Well, to be fair, it has been set on fire once or twice in the past, but that was because you had accidentally walked in on the pygmy drakes that had made their home under your shed. You’ve tried removing them, but that turned out not so well, so now you have some story time scars and new scaly neighbors that you feed from time to time.

But you have never seen fire like this. Usually fire is a shade of yellow, orange, or red. This fire was a platinum white, emitting yellow and blue smoke that would fade into the darkening night sky. Definitely strange, and definitely required some research later, but right now you have to get this fire out.

You were spraying furiously at the flames, and soon all of the flames had died down. You breathed heavily, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as your hands shakily put the hose down and glared at the damage.

Well, the wyvern nest in the willow tree was safe at least. The tree was the first thing you saved from the flames, specifically because those wyvern eggs still had yet to hatch. Plus, that tree was still fairly young, and you were planning on having it around for a few more years at least.

A few branches were understandably burnt, some more than others- but that just meant you had to prune away the dead ends. Not too bad. The lawn however, had bald spots here and there, not to mention the large crater right in the middle. The pond was fine, it didn't look like it took any damage. But you could say goodbye to the Begonia, Lily of the Valley, and Dahlia flowers.

You sprinted over and salvaged as many bulbs as you could, and tried to find a few pips from the Lily of the Valley. You swiftly deposit them in a nearby bucket, and make a mental note to rip the charred and damaged flowers and stems from the ground sometime tomorrow.

You turn back around to deal with the crater in the center of your yard. The impact had sprayed dirt everywhere, as well as sent a few good sized rocks through the fence. You walk over to the dent in the ground, sighing in exasperation, only to jump when you see what was in the crater.

You quickly run to the shed, swinging the door open, ignoring the hissing drakes, grabbing your trusty shovel (and narrowly avoiding a bite from a particularly grumpy drake), and sprint back to the hole.

Brandishing the shovel, you experimentally and slowly dip the shovel inside and give a quick jab, pulling back just as quickly. The lump of…whatever that is, twitched, so it was reacting to external stimulation. That meant it was alive-

You try to wave away the smoke that was constantly pouring out of the crater, giving you more of a chance to actually see what you were doing. If there was a chance that whatever crashed into your yard was alive, you were going to try and bring it back to health. Yeah, it fucked up all your hard work, but just letting something die over that would be fucked up, too.

You gently prod around, carefully watching the formless shape for any negative reactions before scooping it out and gently laying it on the ground.

Well.

You were not expecting this.

In front of you were two oriental dragons. You thought those guys went extinct a long time ago, but maybe you were wrong-? There was a fluffy yellow one that appeared to have a crown of horns and a plated stomach, and dark blue-ish and white one with deer antlers and a glowing bulb at the end of its tail. Both of them had complex patterns of fur and scales, more complex than any other dragon you’ve ever seen. The most interesting thing about them was the area on their necks that appeared to be rubbed raw, like they had worn a collar that was way too tight for way too long. They looked almost sickly, skinny enough to see their bones, and they also appeared as though  they hadn't slept well  in about ten years. And they were so tiny, about the length of a small belt-

A sharp growl sounded from the tree. When you turned to look, you assumed that the wyvern would be growling at you, given that there was a fire and you were spraying water everywhere like a mad man. It was a stressor and you were the only human around, and you were directly involved. Of course the locals would be pissed. However, she wasn't looking at you-

She was staring, growling, and hissing at the two noodles in front of you.

“Hey, knock it off Becky, I'm trying to get them out of your feathers for you!”

More hissing, this time it was aimed at you.

“Hey hey hey! What did I just say? I am literally trying to get them out and away-” Geez, wyverns take ‘territorial’ to a whole new level. Becky’s partner, who you have dubbed Ron, poked his head out and started hissing too. You threw your hands up in the air in defeat. Why were you trying to reason with these flying lizard chickens. They can't understand you. 

You step away from the dragons and quickly grab the nearby bucket, dumping out all the bulbs and pips inside. Once you return, you scoop them into the bucket as gently as you can. Any harsh or brash movements might injure these two even more than they likely are. 

As you reach the back door, the wyvern couple give one more indignant screech, to which you give them a little bird over your shoulder. Even if they don't understand it, you feel a little less peeved off at them and their bad attitudes.

Once inside, you quickly get to work. You grab a few rags, a pair of towels, and make your way to the bathroom. You set the bucket down on the tiled floor and turn on the bath water. You're not exactly sure what you are doing, but you had to nurse an injured wyrm once, and these two looked kind of similar. Just cross your fingers and pray to the medicinal gods that you can do this.

You turn off the water once it is enough and carefully- CAREFULLY- pick up the yellow one, and very gingerly lower it into the shallow water. You did the same for the darker one, watching for any signs of obvious discomfort or pain. Their breathing was quick and shallow, which meant you had to act fast. 

Once they had been placed in the tub, you took one of the rags and dipped it in the water. Gently, you cup the face of the golden serpent and wipe away the dark blood from the wounds you could see, but…

It looked like he had healed a little bit, like he had had these wounds for a few days now. Did he- or maybe even both of them- have fast self healing properties? You would have to pin that question for later, suddenly remembering that he could still get infected.

Quickly, you get back to work. His breathing was still ragged, but once he was clean, you laid him down on a nearby towel. You repeated this with his darker counterpart, noticing the awkward angle of one of his back legs. You would definitely have to fix that later. Even with self healing, if it was dislocated or broken, it could heal in the wrong way.

After you set him down on his own blanket, you drain the tub of the bloody water and initiate a health check. Usually, this was to deal with wyrms, lindwurms, and sea serpents, but again: you had no idea what to do. They aren't lindwurms, because those guys only have two front legs. These aren't wyrms, wyrms have no legs. And that goes for the sea serpents, too. So, this was entirely new to you.

For once, you are very glad that you grew up with two dragon vets for mothers. You could hear your Ma’s voice as you inspected the two:

‘First, check the head for any obvious signs of damage.’ Well, the blue one did have this sort of…weird thing going on with his face. Upon closer inspection, his face was half white and half dark blue. Nothing except some light scratches that seemed to have healed slightly, so it was safe to move on. Inspecting the golden one though, you notice a crack in one of his primary horns. It was small, but it might still ache when he awakes. You make a mental note to put some horn repairing ointment on it later. Neither of them seemed to be severely injured on the skin, so you moved on.

You check their eyes, pulling out a small flashlight from one of the nearby cabinets and gently prying their eyes open. The golden dragon's eyes were bloodshot and completely white. You could barely see the even paler pupil, and that was definitely cause for concern. You should take care of that first when you're done, but in the meantime you need to continue and make sure there was nothing else that required your attention first. When you checked his counterparts' eyes, it was a bit harder to tell. His eyes were a natural ruby red with a black sclera, so it was hard to spot any blood or cataracts. You couldn't check the dilation of the eyes for his friend, but this should be easier. After a quick check, his slitted eyes responded normally to the light.

Finally, you went on to the final step: ‘Gently feel along the body for any lumps, bumps, or any other abrasions.’ You could only feel a few bumps, and those you could feel were from their ribs, which you fully intended on giving these boys a proper meal after, and the area on their lower necks that had been slightly rubbed raw, and it hurt just to look at it. It was a miracle they survived that crash when they were already this unhealthy. Whoever they belonged to previously had clearly not cared about these dragons in a healthy way, if at all. It made you furious, if it had been any one else's yard they had crashed into, you aren't quite sure they would be exactly welcomed and taken care of the way you are currently doing so. Their current condition would have left them defenseless against drakes, wyverns, true dragons, anything really. A rather common thing you noticed on the pale dragon was a swelled pyro sac, the organ that produces flames. The not-so-common detail that you noticed was that an agitated pyro sac was usually warm, and glowed like an ember. However this one was rather cold, and while it was slightly swollen, it didn't glow at all.

Well, that absolutely mystifies you, and you’d have to check in with your mothers’ about that.

You were surprised to find no burn marks. The crater, including themselves, had been smoking, and the fire all around them should have at least given them heat burns. But their scales were just really dehydrated, which is a miracle given the circumstances. 

You reach into the cabinet under the sink and pull out the emergency first aid kit that your Ma gave you before you moved out. She insisted on it, saying that you would never know when you would have to take care of a dragon. Back then you were slightly exasperated, but now you were very grateful.

Aaaaaaaaand that’s all I got for Modern noodles, i got burnt out by the end and didn’t know where to take it, hence me writing swords and scales instead