#tired of living under this suffocating outlook she has on life

[1000-rat-corpses]

my mom is like YOU CANNOT GET A CAT WHEN YOU MOVE OUT. DO NOT GET A CAT. YOU NEED AT LEAST TWO YEARS WITHOUT ONE

bitch im going to be the keeper of the crypt at that point im not going to wait even longer and let depression crush me for two years without a little creature to take care of while living alone. also im getting a dog. fuck you. and a cat if i feel spicy.

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[queenof-literature]

Could you please do a story on Ao3 about Warriors going through reliving the same day over and over again? Kinda like a Happy Death Day thing.

Hi all! I know that my poll had my Hero of Wild series next, but it has been so long since I updated a request and I feel so bad about that I just didn’t want to write any requests in the middle of moving so it didn’t feel I was putting less effort in. But now I’m sick so I have a little time. 

IMPORTANT: I’ve decided to put a new section on my Tumblr masterlist specifically for requests that will not be in my personal LU storyline. I love all of my requests y’all are so creative! I just enjoy putting my fics into my own personal timeline on my Masterlist when possible, and some requests aren’t going to naturally fit in. And that’s perfectly fine! I’m just going to put it in a different section :)

This one is shorter than usual so I’m sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for the request anon! Here’s the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/26368114

Another day another brawl with infected monsters allied with eight other versions of himself. 

No Link even knew what timeline they were in, no one had claimed this one as their own. But something just felt… off. Sure it was a strange Hyrule, but no other Hyrule felt quite like this. It felt as if they were in some sort of limbo. As if time itself was molasses. 

Warriors absolutely hated this feeling. As a captain he was used to being on a constant move, going where he was needed from morning to late at night. It could be exhausting, but it was simply the life Warriors lived as a captain. He had to admit, relaxing with the other Links was actually enjoyable. There was just a calm aura that helped even Warriors relax. But this wasn’t calm, this Hyrule set the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. When he brought it up, the other Links had confirmed that they usually felt that way in a strange Hyrule. Warriors couldn’t explain that this was different, it wasn’t like other Hyrules, there was something utterly wrong. 

The woods resembled the Lost Woods of Wild’s and Time’s Hyrules. Although it was far less foggy, there was a mysterious mist that permeated the area. The leader in Warriors wanted to do something, anything, other than simply walk through looking for the answers to why they were here. But no matter where they turned, the woods never seemed to end. Warriors certainly didn’t appreciate that Legend and Hyrule were completely unfazed. Just what in seven hells have those two been through that this shit was normal?

Back to the matter at hand. Hylia was this fog in Warriors’ brain too? The monsters here were unnerving as well. Not exactly horrifying just… distorted. Everytime he glanced back at one their faces seemed to have shifted slightly. Everything in this Hyrule was simply off. And Warriors wanted to leave more than anything. 

“Wind!” Warriors heard Four scream. Scream. Four never screamed. Much to his absolute horror, Warriors now understood why. Some monster, Warriors couldn’t even call it its name it was so warped, had cornered Wind completely. His little brother, shield and sword tossed too far for him to reach, warped and disgusting creatures looming over him. No no no. Not Wind, Wind didn’t deserve to die like this. None of his brothers did. Hylia can’t do this. She can’t do this! Not Wind, not the little pirate. He was such a little shit, a tornado of foul language, innocent questions and bright outlooks. He was Warriors’ little pirate and he couldn’t die. Not here, not now. Warriors needed to protect all of them. He wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t!

“Wind!” Warriors yelled, the last thing he saw was Wind’s wide and terrified eyes, claws just above his heart. 

Another day another brawl with infected monsters allied with eight other versions of himself. 

Warriors didn’t know what was off about this Hyrule but he didn’t like it. It sent a chill up his spin, an uncomfortable reminder that something was off. He didn’t know why, and he also didn’t know why he was so concerned for Wind. Sure he always was, the kid was a talented fighter and a hell of a force to be reckoned with, but he was still a kid that Warriors appointed himself to look after. He needed to protect all of his brothers-in-arms. He needed to make sure they all made it back to their Hyrules, their homes, even if some didn’t have a home, they still needed to make it back to their Hyrules. 

But there was something about this place that made Warriors stay as close to Wind as possible without raising too many questions. Wind knew something was going on, and would most likely ask for an explanation later. Too bad Warriors didn’t have one. 

“Monsters!” Warriors heard a sharp call from Twilight. How had he not heard or seen anything!? Hylia this place was messing with his head. Warriors unsheathed his sword just as hulking creatures rushed in from the trees. Warriors kept a cautious eye on Wind as he rolled under the first to reach him, springing up and cutting his sword through the monster's back. These monsters were different, warped and shifting almost constantly. 

Warriors kept himself near Wind as much as possible. Something was wrong and it involved Wind. Warriors didn’t have time to question his instincts, he had learned that the hard way. The kid was doing fine on his own, but Warriors kept his eye on him while slashing through the pack that had decided to attack. 

“Hyrule!” Legend yelled, dashing towards the boy who had been disarmed. Just like that, it all came crashing down. This was familiar, this had happened. Warriors couldn’t breathe, what was going on? He failed, but he hadn’t failed yet. Why did he feel like he failed? His vision went black, the last sight he saw this time was Hyrule’s flickering magic. Wait… this time?

Another day another brawl with… oh shit. Warriors hated that odd feeling of remembrance that seemed to hit Hylians at odd times. No, it wasn’t just a feeling. This had happened? Warriors glanced around at his fellow Links walking down the road. Hyrule chatting with Legend, the older hiding a small smile at the other coming out of his shell more and more. Wild with Four, the two having a quiet conversation Warriors couldn’t hear. Sky and Time discussing strategy for their current situation. Twilight telling Wind about Epona, the young boy didn’t have horses in his Hyrule and Twilight was always happy to discuss animals. 

Everything seemed fine with them, besides the creepy Hyrule they were in. But Warriors knew something was wrong. What was wrong? 

“Monsters!” It was Sky who noticed this time. This time? The group all prepared their weapons, the trees shook as monsters came from the gaps. Warriors could only describe their faces as distorted. Where had he seen that before? There weren’t monsters like that in his Hyrule. Warriors charged forward, slashing across what he assumed to be the lead monster’s chest. Glancing over it seemed there were eight more monsters, one for each hero. A coincidence? Or something more sinister. A yelp rang through the battle and Warriors whipped around from above the monster’s corpse. There was Legend, a warped monster standing tall above him, sword raised. 

“Legend!” Warriors yelled.

“What?” Legend snarked. Warriors stumbled back, surrounded by the misty forest, and eight worried Links. 

“I-what? The monsters?” Warriors stuttered out.

“What? Monsters? Where?” Wind asked looking around, and a flash of big blue eyes looking above him in fear. Oh, Hylia! Wind had been cornered! And Hyrule!

“Wind! Hyrule! Are you guys okay?” Warriors asked frantically.

“What? I’m fine?” Wind reassured, Hyrule nodding along with him, Wind didn’t look defensive, he looked concerned. They all did, they were all concerned. Warriors was surrounded by worry and it was absolutely suffocating him. He shouldn’t worry them, he was a captain it was his job to take care of them!

“Warriors? What’s wrong?” Wild asked softly. Warriors sort of looked like him after a memory. 

“I don’t know!” Warriors shouted, not at Wild but at himself.

“Let’s take a break.” Time placated.

“No! They’ll get to us!” Warriors’ wide eyes turned to Time, and the Old Man could see how tormented Warriors was in that moment. Time had his back turned for a minute, what had happened?

“Who War?” Legend asked, concerned. 

“Monsters! They keep coming.” Warriors tried to explain but nothing solid was coming out. How could he? Would the other Links even believe him? Just as the group tried to continue questioning Warriors, a stick snapped. “They’re here!” Warriors called, unsheathing his sword, the others raced to follow his lead. But apparently, this battle was only the beginning. This time, it was Time, somehow his Biggoron sword had been launched across the clearing.

Next it was Twilight, throwing himself in front of Time. That would have been the second round of Time dy- of Time being defeated if Twilight hadn’t stepped in. It killed Warriors to see the shock and horror on Time’s face. 

Next it was Four, his bright eyes shifting through colors as the monster’s steel came down upon him. Whatever was dragging Warriors around through time like a ragdoll never let him stick around enough to let him actually see them die, or to even try and defend them. It just yanked him away, each time with more memories to use to try and protect his brothers the next time. Warriors stopped questioning it, he just wanted it to be over.  

The next time it was Hyrule again, he had healed Legend and had been too tired to completely defend himself.

After that was Wild, the boy had been surrounded by four monsters in one blink of an eye. 

Next was Sky, not even his expert swordsmanship could save him when he was surrounded by those things. 

Four again.

Twilight again.

Sky again.

Then it was Warriors’ turn. A million thoughts raced through his head in the moment he felt a dark presence behind him. Would this finally be over now that it wasn’t the others who were about to perish? Did Hyia not care enough for him? Warriors didn’t want to die, not here, not after all this. But it was better him than the others. They needed to make it back. The monster screamed and Warriors tensed, but felt nothing. Turning around just in time to see the monster vanish in a puff of smoke, whipping around Warriors eyes met Time’s. And for the first time since this whole thing began, Warriors saw complete understanding in Time’s eyes. 

“I know. It’s over now.” Time reassured, placing a hand on Warriors’ shoulder. Time wasn’t just talking about the battle, Time somehow knew something of what Warriors had been through. The man just seemed to get more mysterious everyday, but right now Warriors didn’t even question it. He was just relieved. He desperately hoped it was truly over. Warriors ignored the others calling his name and asking if he was alright, he just looked at Time. 

“Why? Why did it happen?” Warriors held back tears, the looks of desperation and fear on his brother’s faces wouldn’t stop flashing in his mind.

“I don’t know.” It was the first time Warriors had ever heard time sound so lost.

[authenticaussie]

Maybe MarcoSabo for send a ship????

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

Marco again as the werewolf bc like…………….wb fammmmmm wb fam are Totally this rock’n’roiling pack of messy & dumb werewolves and he’s long-suffering but in an endlessly fond and adoring way, and like?? Imagine Sabo being raised by hunter!parents and knowing that what they tell him is wrong but also like they’re his parents, who is he to question them, how can he question them when he’s never known any different, when the werewolves he’s seen have been vicious and angry and cruel and tried to kill his best friend-

Marco who protects Haruta, who’s the smallest and the newest shift and they’re all so proud of her and he’s the one that’s closest to a goddamn dire wolf, what sort of beast of legend would he be if the only tale to his name was  I let my younger sister die? But Also Sabo’s never seen one of them protect anyone before and he’s like whaaat the Heck is this even a werewofl (and then sudden half-clothed man and sabo’s like ashjdfg yep he is very much a werewolf) and like!! Haruta growling and trying to get sabo to stay away but sabo has a gun and marco’s telling her to run and then because he knows she won’t run telling her to get help, and she whines but?? Does so?? And Sabo is just. What the Fuckity is going On Here and demanding to know wtf marco was doing and also jfc he keeps forgetting—(well, repressing,) that…the werewolves aren’t just wolves. They’re human under there, too….and it’s awkward talking to a wolf you just shot but he can’t shoot it(him) again. And so they talk and marco’s growling at him and being like if you go after haruta I’ll rip your throat out and sabo’s like look you’re gonna have some problems w/ that????

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Sabo’s a marine biologist studying the effect of pollution on coral and marine life coughcoughhe’s also totally a really aggressive protester who does a Lot of shit like exposing corruption and infractions of environmental law and Marco’s the mermaid!! Sabo, while diving, accidentally snaps a picture of his tail and is like woah I’ve never seen that before…And then he’s like!!! RARE FISH MEANS WE CAN GET THIS CORAL PATCH DECLARED A PROTECTED ENVIRONMENT AND THEY CAN’T BUILD AN OIL SITE HERE. And so he goes diving heaps to try and catch sight of this fish again. And like?? random stuff also keeps happening around him?? Like, some of his notes are put in the wrong spot, and he’s sure he put them down by the table why are they now near the stern?? Why’s his sunglasses/cap missing??? where’s his left flipper??? And it all comes to a head when he looses his camera overboard while they’re sailing to a new patch to dive and he’s like !!! no!!!! Bc they can’t really get another out here and like?? Koala’s got one, but it’s hers, and it’s also technically the spare, and even if he could use it his was…It was his, and it was one of the first things he bought for himself and it’s…Sentimental

Anyway when they go diving he finds it perched on the reef and in the camera memory there’s a picture of this guy looking super shocked and heavily illuminated by the flash and holy shitting fuck the dude has a tail.

Following those photos are also really gorgeous ones of fish and coral and stuff, but Sabo’s more preoccupied with THE UNDERWATER DUDE WITH A TAIL  

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Again shapeshifting birb!marco as the familiar but Sabo is much better than ace at magic/practicing and is much more fascinated than ace is by the concept of magic so a lot of marco/sabo witch/famillair is sabo blowing stuff up/doing stuff he isn’t meant to and Marco being like whY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THIS THING I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO??

“It looked fun!!!/I was curious!!!” 

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

They’re both coffee addicts but Marco would Totally be a barista and like no-one knows how much coffee he drinks every day bc well who knows if he’s filled up the cup again or if it’s the same cup from this morning?? (it’s totally been filled up at least 7-10 times) and Sabo is this Perpetually Exhausted young man who is like?? doing a ridiculous amount of work, people are like how have you not keeled over and d i e d yet and sabo’s like *raises coffee, looking at it vaguely like it is his god, absolutely exhausted,* “how can I die when there is still such beauty in this world??” and everyone think he’s being pretentious/talking about something actually beautiful but marco’s seen him confusedly mumbling to his laptop/coffee cup when it’s empty and bemoaning his loneliness bc how could coffee, coffee!!! of all things, leave him. Marco just gets into the habit of making sure Sabo gets a new coffee before his runs out, and also that sabo leaves the cafe rather than staying there for 24 hours in a state of absolute exhausted delirium.   

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

Sabo would be TA!!! Like I can see him being a professor but I can also see him just like, angrily colour-coding marco’s schedule and organising so much shit and marco’s vaguely annoyed because he knew what was going on and now it’s this fucking rainbow riot in his notebook and oh god sabo’s following him around and taking notes on how marco interacts w/ others and teaches and offers hints and has little stars next to things he thinks are Good and—-

sabo’s bringing him coffee at 4am Sabo is a God

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

Marco’s the knight and Sabo’s the prince!! Kind of. He’s a noble and he’s set to marry the princess but he sure as fuck doesn’t want too and he totally sneaks off and disguises himself as a pauper/doesn’t introduce himself to marco properly and marco’s like oh are you one of the new guards from the Outlooks’ place?? don’t worry abt being late I know some of the other knights are dickheads and like making sure the newbies get lost. And sabo’s just like uhhhhhh yeeeep that’s me, guard in training, t o t a l l y

Accidentally introduces himself as sabo as is like SURE DOES GET CONFUSING AT THE OUTLOOK HOME, BEING THE SECOND SABO. HAHA. HAH. Marco totally ends up figuring it out, mainly because when Sabo is confronted with things that look interesting but he knows nothing about he is curious and inquisitive to a degree that he cannot hide, and he gets curious/confused about so many things that don’t make sense, like sword smithing and break times/shifts and training regimens and what you need to study to be a knight, but like?? I don’t think Marco would make a big deal out of it. Like….he’d be shocked, and confused, and be like hooooly shit and maybe act a little weirder/stiffer around Sabo because he’s like this dude is going to be my boss some day I should really really really not find him adorable and funny and clever but also?? He totally figures out why Sabo hid it from him and why he did what he did- because there was so much freedom in curiosity, in being able to see something new, in being somewhere where people didn’t know you. And like, Sabo’s parents totally discouraged him asking questions, so like?? Marco not only permitting it but encouraging it??? Sabo loves that. 

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

Marco is the eternally tired and utterly adored/adoring single parent that dotes on his kids and also has several thousand siblings who also get referred to as various mom/dad/uncle/auntie/sister/brother titles and Sabo-the-only-child is like oh my god I’m So confused. He later finds out that Marco is basically just helicopter mom to all of these orphan/abandoned kids and that the wb fam is the Best foster home/orphanage system in town and all the adults are trained to deal w/ the different issues the kids might have, and support tf out of them, and Marco usually gets??? problem kids??? Or ones who need a lot of attention and to be the only kid?? Bc Marco can handle one kid, and can honestly be kind of suffocating in his affection/worry later on in the kid’s life, but he’s still?? Dude he’s raised for 40 other siblings he Knows how to Control the House. And sab’s just…super impressed and they talk about what marco’s current kid needs and sabo works harder at his job bc like!!! damn,,,marco’s inspiring w/ how much he cares……  

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Either Sabo or Marco would make good editors!!! Sabo can be a perfectionist and is very stubborn when it comes to learning things he’s interested in (sometimes I’d like to see like….or I mean, something I’d like to see more of??? Is like, his dream was to write a book or every place he’d ever been and all the people and have a great adventure, and just?? I wish I could see more of how that would affect him in aus where he doesn’t loose his memory, BUT. DIGRESSION.) I think that while both would write, Sabo would write to a vicarious, excessive degree. Fantasy novels, travel books, food reviews, short stories, poems! Everything, and constantly. Marco is his harried and amazed editor who’s always like sabo before you start your 29873th novel what about novel 29872 and Sabo’s like,,,,,,,,,,,,,,#sweats

I can see him primarily writing travel books and huge adventure novels. Massive and intricate and delightful and !! they’re just super good. They can be a bit hard to read, bc they get a bit dense and complicated, but he’s a super smart and captivating writer, and though he errs too far into description (Marco one time sent him back a manuscript with two chapters circled and only the comment ‘sigh’ because they’d been two chapters on the history of some people who lived on a mountain who only came up once) he’s enjoyable and clever and his books are so interesting. 

[dirtywrat]

Part v

“If you will be under the guiding hand of Cleric Hal, you may as well know my father,” Yvaanell explained to Eriibeus—or Erii, as he would be known—as she walked him through the castle doors. “Hal is the head of Father’s court.”

Eriibeus nodded. “I don’t see why that should be an issue.” He never was one for conversation.

She shot a grin in his direction.

The layout of the first floor was a simple square. The front doors opened to the hall, where the old stone floors and walls were scarcely adorned in decorative rugs and shields. There were simple backless stools around a large circular table, and hanging from the high ceiling was a wrought iron chandelier.

There were no other rooms on this floor, so were it not for the narrow stairs along the left wall giving promise to additional space, or the large window across from the entrance letting in a fresh bask of light, Eriibeus would have felt immensely claustrophobic.

It was hard for him to believe that people lived here. The dust was noticeable immediately, and a draft sent chills across his true skin. He intentionally planned to be here during spring seasons, as the winters or summers of a medieval town were not something he wished to experience in the flesh. The public were coming and going as they suited, sitting at the table to rest with one another. It would have felt cramped enough without the unnecessary company.

Yvaanell stopped them both and she turned to face him. “Here is the great hall.” She extended her hand as though conducting a tour. “Know that our doors are open to commoners. Upstairs you will find the courtroom where my father tends to reside, and one more floor above you will be at the bedchambers.”

All of what Eriibeus had read of these people was being disproved during the short amount of time he spent following Yvaanell. She kindly accepted him into her home and had thus far treated him as her equal. Where was this supposed social aggression now?

“Why do you allow the public inside of your dwellings? Is that not a breach of security?” After he spoke, he hoped that that wasn’t a strange thing to ask.

She did furrow her brow a bit, but responded, “We have nothing to fear here. We have no foreign rivals, and we all know each other within these walls. We only engage with other lands to forge alliances. That is the way of our kingdom.”

“Then you must be rather accepting of outsiders.”

“Many who live here were once outsiders themselves. We believe that keeping our gates open to foreigners means more hands serving towards our efforts.”

Interesting outlook. Eriibeus made a mental note of this to write down later.

She nodded toward the staircase. “Cleric Hal holds her meetings at the chapel but has been talking with my father for some time now. If you’ve come to learn from her, then I’m sure she anticipates your arrival.”

The two ascended the stairs in a single file line and emerged from a small opening on the floor, but not before Eriibeus nearly smacked his real head on the edge. That would’ve made for a swift end to this mission.

The upstairs room shared the same dimensions as the one below it, but had a much more open feel. Along all of the walls were warmly colored stained glass windows. Adjacent to the front end were two parallel archways leading out onto the wall-walk where guards would patrol the higher perimeters. The stairs which lead to the third floor were situated outside.

And of course, at the back end of the room was a simple stone throne dressed in vibrant throws and cushions, and a burly Rolveon man with long graying hair sitting lethargically upon it. At his foot was an old skinny woman dressed in purple robes and a matching cap. The two were in the midst of a disagreement.

“...I only ask for a single piece more a season so I may further my observations. I guarantee you, lord, I am on the verge of a breakthrough in the cultivation of these specimens—!”

“Enough!” the seated man interrupted. His voice was like thunder, if thunder had smoked for many years. “I refuse to invest any further into your theories, Cleric, for they are not grounded in earthly reason! For every blessing I’ve given, you’ve yielded no meaningful results! This is lunacy, and there are more valued matters to invest my kingdom’s funds into. This experiment of yours ends with these final words!”

One of Eriibeus’ concealed antenna perked upwards in interest, translating to a holographic eyebrow being raised.

“Lord, please! Hear me—!”

Yvaanell cleared her throat, and the bickering two gave their attention to her, instead. “Father, Cleric Hal, this stranger wandered up to me and claims he is for you.” She looked back at him and smirked. “I knew not what else to do of him, so now I hand him off to you.”

Eriibeus assumed that was his queue. He hesitated slightly before stepping forward. “I-I wasn’t certain if I was welcome inside or not. Where I come from, commoners are not allowed to merely walk into the home of royalty.” Much of what he said of this fake place paralleled real life, but the politics of his star-faring homeworld were a tad more nuanced than those of a world in its Middle Ages. “I am Erii. I arrived here several days ago for my test, Cleric. Do you recall me?”

Hal scanned him up and down, slowly dragging her eyes across every inch of Eriibeus’ projection. For a moment, he feared the woman would see through his disguise. “Yes, of course I recall you... He whose skill surpasses any of which his master has ever seen...” The cleric’s voice was like a snake, gently coiling around his body, preparing to suffocate him. “What was the name of your home again?”

Eriibeus could feel the ice in her tone. The tension between the two was thick enough to slice with a laser cutter. “We are The Council of Troverdon, several miles inland from the southern sea.”

Hal scowled at him. “‘Where the status of scholars are held above that of kings,’ correct?” she quoted.

“Uh...” Perhaps Eriibeus had used that line he made up one too many times. It was a good line, he thought. “...correct. I come here for the purpose of expanding my knowledge, and by extension, the knowledge of all Troverdoneans.” He wasn’t lying entirely, only mostly.

“I see...” Hal replied carefully, folding her arms. “Or, perhaps you are some sort of spy here to disrupt our way of life! You had no outside contacts to speak of during our first exchange, and never before have I heard of this place you supposedly come from.”

The king groaned before intervening. “Cleric, cease the undue accusations for once in your miserable life!”

Eriibeus blinked at the sound of his booming voice. Here was a man raised since birth to govern his village and subjects with absolute authority. As far as the Rolveons were concerned, this man was mere steps below the status of a god. To say that he was ‘intimidated’ by Acruxum was wrong, as he did not fear these people, but he could not deny how small he felt in this king’s presence.

Acruxum continued lecturing Hal, “As a servant of the divine, you of all must know that Prophet Exinei in The First Book of Elet did declare that we are all foreigners upon these lands, for the earth does not belong to those who tread upon it, but to those who live within the skies!” He laughed, scornful. “It is a sad day where the cleric knows less of how the world works than her sorry king.”

Yvaanell stepped backwards towards Eriibeus. “We will not have you scaring away anyone else with your interrogations, Hal. Some of our town’s most productive citizens have their origins in outside lands.”

“And you should understand that your standing after all this plant madness bears no favors with me,” Acruxum spat. “A man has come a great distance to learn from us of our humble kingdom. It is a great honor knowing that Okuil carries the influence to draw foreign scholars.”

Not exactly accurate, but Eriibeus did not speak up.

The cleric threw her hands up. “Fine, I will ask no further questions... for now, at least. But my suspicions remain firmly intact.” She puffed out her chest slightly, as though simply stating that she was suspicious was somehow accomplishing something.

Yvaanell snorted. “You utter many words yet convey such little meaning,” she taunted her.

The cleric could have hissed in response.

“Yvaanell,” her father warned. “All of you, leave at once. My patience for all of this has run dry. I have no more will to continue these quarrels.” He shooed in their direction, leaning into his side. The man looked so weary, tired of both body and mind. In between words he breathed as though fighting for air, and his ragged appearance made him look so much older than he must have been.

Yvaanell frowned. “Yes, father.” She approached him to place a delicate kiss on his weathered cheek, then turned to descend the stairs, making sure to smile warmly at Eriibeus before her departure. “I will be seeing you around these parts, Erii of Troverdon.”

“Very well then,” Hal began to her new apprentice. “If you will follow me, we shall begin the fundamental lessons.” She motioned towards one of the archways and the two made their way out onto the wall-walk.

From the newfound height, Eriibeus had a vantage of the entire village, and the view was not unlike an image he could’ve received from an observational post. It reminded him of a miniature model he would see in a museum, depicting life in a town from history’s past. All the faces of the citizens scurrying below were indistinguishable, but it was far simpler to keep a head count from up here. He as well could easily see out into the surrounding fields, and beyond the fields, the dense woods which from here resembled the wild rainforests on his tropical homeplanet of Zorian Prime.

After that thought crossed his mind, he realized it would be better if he ventured farther away from Okuil when he was ready to teleport back to the Pax Concordia, rather than doing so in the open farmlands. He hadn’t known how easy it could’ve been for someone to spot him until he was up above.

Perhaps carelessness does permeate this mission as previously suggested...

The chapel was also connected to the wall-walk by a second floor archway, and it was the next building over from the castle. As they approached it, Eriibeus could see that it clearly was not originally intended to be a chapel of any sort. It looked more akin to a guard tower with a large conical spike jutting from the top. In fact, most of the pre-established buildings of this town didn’t seem to be designed for anyone to actually live inside of. The village of Okuil was built upon an Obroxian fortress from when their military still occupied the region. The modern Rolveons were essentially squatting here.

Hal pointed a skinny finger at the so-called chapel. “Here is where I reside. Unfortunately, there is no room for another resident, so you must stay at the inn. I will show you there later, but for now there is much to do.” She opened the makeshift wooden door crudely bolted to the arch frame and let Eriibeus enter before her.

Inside, the woodsy scent of herbs and embers was overpowering. Much unlike the castle, this place was decorated lavishly with curious baubles of research. Drying plants suspended by rope cables hung in tiers from the walls and ceiling, rough sketchings of biological diagrams and drawings of native lifeforms were plastered sporadically around the room. There were shelves everywhere and several cupboards, coddling various miscellanies. The cleric’s bed was off to the corner, next to a rickety wooden desk covered in alchemical equipment. Tattered red curtains were drawn to the sides of the windows, letting in only enough light for the otherwise dark room to be accessible. Right of the second story entrance was an opening leading to the first floor, presumably where church meetings took place.

This most certainly is the dwelling of a scientist, Eriibeus thought upon taking in his surroundings. His quarters aboard the Pax Concordia shared similarities with Hal’s room. The urge to collect oddities or to hoard old notes from past trials must have been universal traits among hobby researchers.

They both walked further inside. “Now, before I set you on your first task, is there anything you would like to ask me, Erii of Troverdon?” The cleric spat Eriibeus’ fake name out like a venom.

“Yes, actually,” he began. “Forgive me for prying, but what was it that you and the king were arguing over when we first walked in? Something of an experiment... ?”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “That does not concern you, outsider.”

“It may not, but I find myself intrigued still. If there is anything that I can possibly assist you with, I would be very eager to help however I can.”

The cleric was silent for a moment, her eyes drifting to the side as she contemplated his proposal. “Well, perhaps since you are here, there are some things I could do with your help in.” She wandered towards her desk and Eriibeus trailed behind.

Along the back of her desk were a number of small clay pots of soil of varying colors and consistencies, some wet and some dry, none of which contained any obvious signs of life.

“I have been unsuccessful thus far in my attempts at cultivating these plants. I have wasted many suns on my research hoping that eventually I will make a breakthrough, but alas, to no avail. For all my knowledge of herbalism, and alchemy, too, it embarrasses me endlessly that I seem unable to unlock the secrets of this one simple breed.” She sighed defeatedly. “My birth chart always did detail a life ill of misfortunes...”

Eriibeus peeked over Hal’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the pots. “And what specimen are these exactly?”

“They were known to the Obrox as iolum slarr, or the ‘glass bush’, after the star god, Ioluminet. His eyes are glassy like mirrors. Mortals lack the power necessary to look into his eyes without being swallowed by flame, but within his irises lay the world’s most secret knowledge. Hidden in plain sight, if you will.” She smirked at her own joke.

“These plants appear to grow exclusively in clusters, leaves an ashen white, and they bear the crop of black glass,” Hal explained. “They grow in the wild in caves, but very slowly and they take many months to bear their fruit. The glass is brittle and breaks. We wish to continue crafting from this material, but when they break and we run out of glass and there is no more in the wild left to harvest, we must return to our metal tools which are not as good.”

“‘I don’t understand. These plants grow glass?”

Hal picked up a tool from her desk and turned to face Eriibeus. She grabbed his hand by the wrist and laid it flat, and in his hologram palm she placed a small, primitive scalpel with a highly reflective black blade. “We use the glass which flowers from the iolum slarr to make tools mostly, but through my research I hope to find other uses. The glass grants us the ability to perform surgeries with remarkable precision.”

Eriibeus pondered this. A blade made of glass implied an incredibly sharp edge, which may have been one possible explanation for the high rate of success these people had with surgical procedures. “Interesting...”

“Indeed,” she agreed as she turned her back to him once more. “The tools were first brought to us and others by Ydlivar caravaners of the northern lands. Many say the star gods gave them the knowledge to will this glass to exist from the air itself, and those who were there for this exchange brought their secrets with them to the grave.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure if I believe those things. I believe the answer may be much simpler. Perhaps mortal man was simply not meant to understand the workings of these plants. This may be sacred knowledge that I am toying with without even realizing it, as the king implies.”

Eriibeus listened with his concealed antennae pressed to his head. Hal was a woman of her time; her knowledge was up to par with the knowledge of the era. It would have been completely unfair of him to compare what he knew of the natural world to what these primitives knew, or even could know. Still, it was a shame to him that she even humored these ridiculous ideas. If only his fellow researcher knew of the wonders the universe actually held.

Hal let out a breath of air from deep within her lungs. “I do not know, and I may never know. The king tells me it is time to surrender hope. I have accepted that this may be the case.”

“No! Do not accept this!” he exclaimed much more fervently than was intended. The cleric snapped her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Cleric Hal, if you will allow me, I’m certain that you and I could unlock these ‘secrets’ together.”

She was skeptical. “How could you be so certain of this?”

“Because anything can be understood if given the time and effort required to learn. I have some light experience in botan—” he stopped to correct himself. “—er, herbalism. I have a garden at my home.” The windowsill succulents in his quarters that he bought online and came pre-planted in pots constituted as a garden in his mind.

The cleric narrowed her eyes, turning to look at him. Her arms were folded and a dubious expression spread across her face. “You seem oddly sure of something which has never been done before.”

“And you seem oddly accepting of the king’s word although you clearly wish for further investigation.”

She blinked. For a fleeting moment, she seemed lost for words. “The king’s word is law! It is not my place to question authority, nor is it yours! After all, the king is my source of funding. Only with his blessing am I able to continue to my commission of supplies.”

This was true, unfortunately. It was a fact that Eriibeus was well aware of and it never ceased to upset him. The Phosnoi Technocracy invested the majority of its fundings into scientific research and the advancement of technology, but outside of where he came from, it was not an uncommon theme throughout the galaxy that intellectual pursuits received the poor end of the bargain.

“Well, if there are two of us, perhaps I could conduct some research of my own and report my findings to you. We do not need the king’s permission to simply observe the world around us on our own terms, Cleric.”

She shook her head. It was clear that this conversation was making her uncomfortable. She likely had never heard anyone question authority like this before. “There is no research to conduct which I have not already done. You speak madness, outsider.”

“But how? Clearly, there is the knowledge to grow other kinds of plants. Why give up so easily with this new specimen that you know so little about?”

“Because the king—”

“The king knows nothing of what we do, Cleric. His job is to oversee the individual needs of his subjects. We are scholars, Hal. Our place in society is to improve the lives of our fellow citizens through the discovery of new knowledge. It is not a sin to learn.”

Hal’s jaw could have fallen to the floor. She was silent, gaping at this defiance. Then, a wicked smile stretched across her face. “You have some nerve, Erii of Troverdon.”

“Where the status of a scholar is held above that of a king.”