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wundrousarts · 9 months

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Various Wundersmith thoughts and things I've noticed after rereading the book for yet another time:

This one is significantly longer and a little bit more random than my recent Nevermoor reread, but who cares 🤷 the more the merrier!

There are things both serious (theories, thematic parallels, etc.) and silly (jokes, personal reactions). This time around I discovered the annotations feature in Apple Books and had a lot of fun with that, so I'll try to include the bits I highlighted when necessary. Enjoy!

— I don't mean to have a shippingbrain, but it feels impossible to view Jupiter and Israfel as anything but exes/folks that had a Thing in the beginning, omg.

—— Israfel throwing the "old friend" back at Jove..... my note for this one was "#gay"

— I like the interest Mog has in Bohemia, and I'm interested based on that one Silverborn snippet for her to return (and eventually explore other parts of the city as well)

— Jupiter referring to the junkies as "they're not patrons of the fine arts" feels like a nice little set up for the Museum later on. Thought of and admired as an art piece, but the rich folks at the auction don't actually care about the work put into it.

— Do you think the folks at Wunsoc that organize the little show that welcomes 919 are a little peeved that the Fireblossom's being reignited means that they can't perch creepily in them anymore lol.

— I wonder if the Wunsoc Oath has a pre- or post- Massacre origin

“The nature of Miss Crow’s unusual –" she paused, seeming to catch herself before calling it a ‘knack’ – "situation.” (Ch2)

—— Elder Quinn hesitates to refer to Mog's power as a knack, so I wonder if that's just a general thing of Wundersmithery being different, or if knacks are a post-Massacre categorization

— I love how this book really starts to solidify the theme of family in Nevermoor... Wunsoc, her Unit, the Deucalion, Wundersmiths, the Crows, her mother..... AAAHHHH!!! I can't wait to see where it all goes.

— A "note sealed with silver wax" from "the Celes-" ..... YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!!! 😁😁😁

—— Likely about Cassiel but even that and beyond could tie into a lot of other Silverborn Theories..... Noelle..... The Silver District....... I will keep this all in mind

—— Also, updating my SIlverborn Masterpost posthaste ✍️✍️✍️

— It likely doesn't matter and will never be explained, but I wonder if the room between student's houses and their hometrain station is part of the Gossamer, and like a thin place between worlds

— Miss Cheery's first outfit is so y2k I need to draw her. It makes sense because she's like 20 in this book.

— The Wunsoc circle diagram has always interested me since I first read it. I wonder if the size of the circles ever means anything??

—— Could it relate to the probability (?) of the knacks? Mundane is the most common to occur, Arcane more specialized, and then Wundersmiths are very, very rare

—— Something I often forget is that folks in Wunsoc that weren't Wundersmiths have always existed. Were there more than 9 of them in each year? Were there always 9 non-Wundersmiths? Did the trials always exist? What was the relationship between non-Wundersmiths and Wundersmiths like?

—— On that note, did C&D only become the Wunsoc motto / purpose post-Massacre? Or did they do that before as well? If the motives of Wunsoc have changed over the years, has what they look for in students changed as well?

“Everybody at Wunsoc has a job to get on with – every junior and senior scholar, every graduate, every teacher, every patron, every Elder and every Master.” (Ch5)

— I am still forever curious about what Masters are, and why they are on the same level or possibly even slightly higher than Elders

—— Are they previous Elders? Are they people who excel in their craft? I'd like to say there could be a connection to Wundrous Apprenticeships but 1. those seemed like a natural given, 2. likely aren't really around anymore, and 3. I'm not really sure why they would have so much authority if so.

—— I like to headcanon that senior scholars do internships/apprenticeships

— Something that makes me laugh is that I will famously agonize over something, in this case the Wunsoc academic school year, only to discover upon a reread that it is explicitly stated how it works. lol.

— Brilliance Amadeo and her predecessors are referred to as "First-Line Wundersmiths." This likely relates to the chambers in the Liminal Hall in Sub-Nine that we see in Hollowpox.

—— Knowing Jess, I bet that either Mog or Squall are part of the Ninth Line

“Your kind are … all … dead," continued Professor Onstald. "And if they’re … not –" he blinked his watery eyes at her and took a long, rasping breath – "they should be.” (Ch6)

“My duty is not … to save you … from yourself. It is to show you … that you are … beyond saving. All of your … kind … are beyond …” (Ch6)

“If you were half the Wundersmith you ought to be by now, it wouldn’t be possible for me to tap into your power like this. (Ch24)

— I've had a theory post on the progression of Wundersmiths in society towards the Massacre in the works for awhile that I've postponed until after my Hollowpox reread, but:

—— What if it was a group effort?

——— There's a part in one of the books that's like, "Squall led his fellow Wundersmiths in a coup, and then turned on them" and as much as Wunsoc likes to spin and fabricate things, I think that this could also be true. What caused Squall to turn? That's a mystery we'll have to unravel later...

———— This book is heavy on Squall controlling and manipulating folks, both literally with Wunder but also mentally with words, so could be interesting if that played a part in the revolt

— Regardless, something spooked Onstald enough to turn from admiring and studying Wundersmiths and their ways to hating them, and I'll forever be interested in what happened.

—— I think there could be some slight truth in him viewing all Wundersmiths as bad, because some stuff, like Mathilde's Morbid Museum (lol), could indicate some darker inclinations by folks other than Squall

— Maybe I'm an idiot for not realizing this before, but I don't think it was Jupiter that got Mog/919 into the Maps class.

“I have dedicated my life to taming this monstrous city, and I love her with every fiber of my being.” (Ch8)

“Goodness. You’ve only been here a year? And yet you and Nevermoor seem to go hand in glove. It’s almost like this place was made just for you.” (Ch8)

—— So Squallish. I wonder if anything he said was coached.

—— Do you think this is how he got him on his side? Did they bond over both being obsessed with Nevermoor?

— I think a lot of Mildmay's problems would have been fixed if he had simply been more proactive about networking instead of turning to a life of crime. I mean, he's only 19, just out of school! Way to quit early, dude.

One bite brought on the specific sensation of bittersweet late-summer nostalgia … which sent Francis straight back to the test kitchen, as he’d actually been aiming for the carefree abandon of a mid-summer music festival. (Ch9)

— I wonder how much of Francis's knack/what he cooks/cooks with has a Wundrous origin. I'm also often reminded of the Smoking Parlor.

—— I like to relate it to my Communication "Art" but alternatively... does remind me of Israfel's voice. Curious about how Celestials and Wunder interact.

—— Alice Frankenreiter of 915 is mentioned as a shapeshifter..... how Masquerade-esque. Another point for the "knacks being related to Arts" theory?

——— I also have to point out how funny to me the "Franken-" is with the knack. lol. (makes me think about Frankenstein)

— There is a "noise like a thousand tinkling bells" when the Ghastly Market is revealed. This noise also shows up in the other two books during the Christmas Eve battle. In a world where magic by Wundersmiths heavily involves singing in order to use Wunder, I like the further comparisons of magic and sound. Will keep an eye out for more during Hollowpox.

—— We see this as well with this line:

Her fear and revulsion and rage swelled inside her like a symphony (Ch16)

which I just annotated as "music/art comparison. slay."

——— On that note, I feel like the connection between Wundersmiths/Divinities and the Celestials being explored more could be interesting, as both of their powers involve singing. I'm curious how/if their magic overlaps.

— The fact that the Loyalty Trial was from the Elders and thus they were the ones who asked Cadence to humiliate Baz will never not be funny

— Chapter 18 mentions a "Polaris Hill." Named after Griselda Polaris?

— Have to say: Between being excited about a killer flytrap and teaching 919 swears, an underrated Mahir trait is that he is actually very silly.

— If you've ever seen me call the Gossamer-Spun Garden the "Wundergarden", please know that the Murdergarden is 100% why lol

— I hope hope HOPE!!! we get some proper definitions someday for the Wundrous Act Classifications. Like Spectacle, Phenomenon, Singularity, etc... I hope we get to learn what they each are someday!!!

“To do just what a Wundersmith does," One corner of Squall’s mouth twisted into a quarter-smile.” ... "To grant your fondest wish. To give you the thing you want more than anything else.” (Ch19)

— I feel like this line is often overlooked and is an underrated hint at what a Wundersmith's role in society was like

— I'm a bit of a pessimist (SORRY) about the movie adaptation, and once thing about this book is that I'm mourning that it'll probably never get adapted.

—— I think that the idea of Nevermoor as a movie musical works so much better with Wundersmith because there's so much more magic and music and singing in this one, with both Israfel and the first Nocturne lessons. I could see it the integration of the non-diegetic (?) songs that the characters sing and the themes of the movie/books work better with this book than the first one just because of that.

—— Also the theatricality of characters such as Squall and Mildmay is off the charts in this book! I'd even throw Dearborn and Murgatroyd in there as well. I think they could make for more interesting characters in a movie musical than the general supporting cast of the first book.

—— I'd say that perhaps they could mix and mash stuff from both books 1 and 2 into a single movie, but I don't know if they have rights past the first book.

Squall cocked his head to one side, a deep frown etched into his forehead. ... Squall took a step towards her. He looked like he was remembering something. (Ch19)

— I wonder why he recognizes the song!

—— Curious if anyone else has their own theories on this they want to share. I brought this up in the discord a few months ago and have yet to make a proper post but here's my idea:

——— Squall's song and Mog's song are very similar in a few ways, so perhaps one of the songs was influenced by / is “descended from” so to say from the other, or they have a common ancestor.

——— Could explain why Little Crowling is familiar to Mog and Morningtide’s Child is familiar to Squall

... into the cold embrace of a capricious and unknowable city. (Ch19)

— This is like, baby's first comparison, but I do enjoy how this refers not only to Nevermoor but also Squall just a moment earlier. They are sooooo linked. I wonder if there's other moments like this in the book that I've missed.

— The Jemmity Park stuff is interesting to think about because I think Odbuoy is the youngest Wundersmith present at the time of the Massacre.

—— The idea of him being the youngest I feel then fits with him making the park only work for children, as that seems appropriately mischievous.

——— Because of my (outdated tbh) Eventide theories, I had a silly theory he was 7 when he made the park, but when you think about that more, it falls apart. A little funny to think about though, ngl.

— Anyone else think that the Elders should have told Jupiter about Sub-Nine in case he wanted a part in that? I feel like as a patron and adoptive father figure of a Wundersmith, he might want some access to Wundersmith history and culture. His excursions to the park and Cascade Falls really prove an interest and he could be helpful to the group.

— Morrigan compares Squall's Séance Synchronicity to Coven 13 in the Fright Trial... are these magics connected at all, or will we learn more about the different magics in the world at some point?

Squall held his hands out – palms downward, twisted into claws – and made his fingers dance like a puppeteer twitching strings. (Ch24)

— I find it so funny how the Puppeteering (also known as Marionette) parallels– the statue in the Elder's hall, the stunt with the Charlton Five on the platform, and this scene– were so obvious, and yet it took a solid 2 years after Wundersmith's release (right before Hollowpox was out!) for somebody to bring it up for the first time. And now everyone accepts it as basically canon lol!

— Wonder if the Wundrous Arts sign got changed to Wretched Arts before or after Squall's exile, in order for him to know about it. I have some theories on the timeline of all that that I'll share at a later date.

— I often forget and I think it's often overlooked that the Magnificub growing was Squall's doing, not just Mog's.

—— Wonder if he was stalking her that night as normal OR detected her intention and swooped in OR was there already due to the auction

— The way that Squall bows dramatically to tease Mog and then Mildmay does the same a chapter later is so funny.

“There are far greater monsters –" his eyes flashed – "and far greater dangers. Miss Crow, we have a shared enemy you could never imagine. If the Wundrous Society doesn’t take you off the leash, if you aren’t given the freedom to grow, to become the Wundersmith I need you to be … then terrible things are coming down the line. For both of us.” (Ch24)

— War in Arc 3 pleaseeee

—— It's interesting because it seems that Nevermoor/Free State has been relatively peaceful ever since restructuring… but the Wintersea Republic has had the same amount of time to build up! And now they’re looking to take the last slice of the pie…..

“There. That feeling. That fire in your heart, that spark of anger and fear. Focus on it. Feel it. The flickering, burning anger inside – THAT is Inferno.” (Ch24)

— What if each of the Arts are bolstered by an emotion? Doesn't seem so but 🤷 could be a fun AU idea perhaps

— A lot of the description of Inferno in this book– a flame or firework in Morrigan's chest– reminds me so much of Howls Moving Castle (2004) that it's on my eternal to-do list to draw.

— Between Mog's lessons in this book and Goldberry's circular breathing, I think it's interesting how much of Inferno relates to breath

—— "Breath of life" ?

—— Could relate back to music/singing, which is needed to summon Wunder

—— Do any of the other Arts (excluding Nocturne and Inferno) have any connections to breath that we know of? Or even are just aligned with a specific part of the body? If anyone has any thoughts on this, please do share!

— Anyone else like to think about the Hunt of Smoke and Shadow and the way the Hollowpox hunted? No? Just me? Okay

—— I think that Wundersmiths definitely probably have specialties– and these are based on natural affinities, NOT lineage– and Mog's is likely Inferno whereas Squall's is likely Veil

He took a deep bow, still laughing. (Ch25)

— My note for this line and the whole scene was simply, "🖕 WORST 19 YEAR OLD EVER" lol

“You saved my life tonight. I find myself in your debt." He watched her for a moment, pressing his mouth into a line. Morrigan could tell he wanted to say something more, but wasn’t sure if he should … or perhaps he couldn’t quite find the right words. Israfel breathed a deep sigh. "You’d do well not to mention that to the folks at Wunsoc. I shouldn’t be in your debt.” (Ch27)

— What does this all meannnnn

— Interesting how Jupiter mentions that he thinks Cassiel's disappearance is unconnected to all the Ghastly Market stuff

—— I've mentioned before (maybe not on here, sorry) that the timing could perhaps line up in order for Cassiel to be the Celestial that Noelle's knack is stolen from, if we want to go with that theory

— Mog saying that Squall said something funny, as in weird, yet Jupiter's first response is to ask if he said something "funny haha" is so funny to me. Why is that his first response.

— Folks have mentioned it before, but I'd love some more bonding between Mog and Lam based on the fact that they're both from the Republic

— Elder Quinn refers to Mog as "our Wundersmith" as in like, just another brother and sister in Wunsoc, but it could be interesting if that wording is ever brought up again to try to use Mog, or make her do something no one else can because of her powers, like in the days of old

And finally (about 3k words later):

— Lam is referred to as "the smallest of all of them" in terms of 919. Not to me! While I wholeheartedly believe she is certainly short, she's not the shortest for me. #ShortMogSupremacy.

#nevermoor #nevermoor reread #nevermoor theory #wundersmith #this is 3k words including the quotes so ummmm sorry lol. buckle in I guess!#if anyone has any thoughts after reading this or any theories of their own that they want to discuss: my inbox is always open!#I am insane about this series and you should be too <3 #incapable of ever writing anything that isn't exceedingly long and rambling though. and for that I am sorry.#I also feel like my reading(s) of the book(s) is often prob unintentionally biased bc it's filtered thru my own theories and headcanons #so I always love hearing what other folks have to say. esp bc sometimes folks will say stuff that have me realize that I'm wrong lol!

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trahoalai · 16 days

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storytime :00

so orange is my favorite color and cali poppies are my favorite flower. and goldfish are my favorite animal (but I love birds too <33) I think they're also my dad's fav?? me and my dad are not close his side of the family never came to the usa so he spends most of his time in vietnam taking care of ba noi. goldfish are the only thing I really associate with him bc when he visits us he buys sooo many. he loved to take care of them he bought a tank for his office and a tank for our kitchen and laundry room u get the idea. and he would take me to pick out ones I liked but he only ever bought them from this very indie fish store. it had no employees just the owner and it only took cash honestly idk how he discovered it but he would go almost every weekend. and when he left for vietnam again I would spend so much time sitting in front of the tanks staring though the glass. the memories are kinda hazy but I think I would like.....daydream??? I swear I would see the fish float out of their tanks into the air maybe it was just my overactive kid imagination. I dreamt of them at night too they consumed me. it was like I could always see them in the corner of my eye and I would hear the sound of the tank filters running 24/7. this continued for a while honestly.....and then the lockdown happened while my dad was in vietnam and he couldnt fly home for a while he got stuck there :/ and by the time he got back his little fish store had gone out of business. our house is a lot quieter now

#I really enjoy it when diaspora tales include stuff about the parents #bc like they were the ones that had to leave their lives behind yknow??#my favorite book is trungle's “the magic fish” which I think was released around the time all This was going down lol #and my favorite painting is bill mayer's “the offering”#it was made in 2017 theres no historical significance but it resembles my recurring dreams sooo much!!!!#ask me more about the art I like!!!!! esp surrealist or photo secession stuff hehe

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kelpiemomma · 1 year

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It was a knock at the door that pulled Ingo out of a deep slumber.

It was not frantic, not a sound that had him leaping out of his bed in a panic, but it was firm. Insistent. It compelled him to emerge from the warm comfort of his blankets, piled and wrapped atop of a straw bed to block the chill of the night, and to the thin wooden door blocking the chill and snow. He stumbled in the dark, tripping over smoothed wood and catching himself on the wall of the hut. His hand grasped the coat he’d hung up before crawling into bed and he pulled it down, wrapping it around himself like a protective cloak. Still with no light, and no real thought process beyond answer the door, Ingo pulled it open.

“How may I-” he began the sentence through a yawn, cut off midway by the sight before him.

The ground was lit by the moon in the sky, bright enough that Ingo could clearly see the person who had woken him up. It was impossible to determine an immediate gender so Ingo didn’t even bother to try. Whoever they were had long hair, a light gold that nearly appeared white in the moonlight. They had a long, stern nose with a flat bridge. Their gaze was flat and serious, lips thin as they stared down - very, very far down - at Ingo. At full height Ingo was a few inches taller than those around him within the village, but this person made him feel like a child. If his head came up to their chest he would be surprised. They were dressed in what appeared to be an old-fashioned white robe, the wind carrying across the valley lifting it gently before placing it back down as though it was the most delicate fabric. Intricate golden details laced the trim. Perhaps it was the sleep but it seemed to Ingo’s mind that the trim was… moving. One moment he thought there was a sun rising over a valley, and in the next it seemed to be some sort of battle between two pokemon. Hands appeared and disappeared, a wave of appraisal and worship before sinking down into a wave.

Rubbing his eyes to clear the odd sight - and upon second glance, the delicate lace no longer slipped through design - Ingo took a second look. Their height had not decreased at all but he was able to notice something new. Something that, somehow, he had missed in his awed staring. The person’s arms were wrapped around their chest in a cradling position. A blanket, the color of which he’d never seen before, was swaddled tightly. Though the hold was confident there was also a looseness to it that sent alarm bells ringing through Ingo’s mind, waking him up further. As he opened his mouth to speak the bundle moved, a tiny fist raising itself from the blanket and pounding on the person’s chest. Barely a moment later, a piercing cry erupted from the blanket as well. The stranger did not blink. They barely seemed to notice the noise at all. Their hooded green gaze had not left Ingo’s face.

“Is that- are you carrying a child? Are you hurt? Are they hurt? Here, please- come inside, I’ll get a fire started! It’s awfully cold tonight; a baby shouldn’t be out in this weather.” Ingo reached out impulsively, grasping for a sleeve and ending up with an arm ful of wailing baby. He pulled the child close to his chest in surprise, looking down into light eyes full of tears. The infant hiccuped through their tears, arm waving furiously. He grasped the limb gently to protect his own face only for his hand to be pulled down towards the babe’s face. They immediately began gnawing on his fingers, the wail dying gradually as they found something to occupy themself. The cold was forgotten.

Something clicked into place.

“Warden Ingo,” the person before him finally spoke, pulling Ingo’s gaze reluctantly away from the baby, “I leave her to you.”

“I’m sorry? I’m- I’m not a Warden? I'm just- a guest. Why are you- are you leaving? Are you leaving your child behind?” Anger rose in his chest. Was this infant being abandoned? Directly into his arms?!

“She was never meant to join this world. She was not part of my plan. I heard the world cry and there she was.”

“Do you need help? If you can’t raise her on your own you may join the village, I’m sure. They would be willing to take in a parent in need!”

“I am not her parent. I brought her into existence but she is not mine. She never has been and never will be.” There was a darkness in the person’s eyes, a bitter sort of anger laying under those words. They were sharp, pointed enough that the baby wiggled in Ingo’s arms and let out a high-pitched whine. Immediately he rubbed their - her? - cheek, the whine slipping into a gurgle. His fingers were pulled and tugged on until the baby managed to slip a fingertip into their mouth, chewing on his limb. Ingo’s gaze never left the person’s before him, though they finally dared to look away from him. Their flat expression became something like a sneer as they looked down before it was schooled into disinterest once again.

“As you were never meant to be here either, I leave her to you. I would bid that you take care not to lose her and do not tell others where she came from.” The person slid their hands into their sleeves, the gold filigree flashing blindingly bright as the sleeves made contact. Ingo turned away to block his and the child’s eyes. “Not even I know where she may end up next time.”

When the light faded and Ingo could look again the person was gone. He took several steps forward, looking around to try and see where they had vanished to, but not even the snow gave a hint at what direction the person had gone in. Only the moon looked down at Ingo, the light solemn and soft. He turned his gaze to the infant in his arms; cheeks were being carelessly bitten by the wind and turning red, eyes wrinkled up in discomfort and watery, but his finger remained chewed on. Despite the infant’s abandonment, they didn’t appear disturbed. In fact they appeared… content. As the chill nipped insistently at Ingo’s bare feet, driving him back into his hut to pull the door shut, so did the baby’s eyes. They let out a gurgling noise, grip tightening on Ingo’s fingers, and then they began to snore.

Ingo rubbed his face, trudging back towards his bed. There were things he needed to do and yet- something pushed him towards the blankets. He pushed them to the side, keeping the infant in one hand while removing his long coat. Using it and a blanket he created a nest to cradle the little one in. As he set the child inside, covering them with one of his sleeves, they sighed in what he could have mistaken for content. One chubby fist grabbed the wristband of his coat while the other migrated to the infant’s mouth, thumb settling into place as though it belonged there. Half awake and half aware, Ingo prepared his own blankets upon his straw bed. He put the infant between himself and the wall, and then hesitated before moving them between himself and the opening of the room. Then he hesitated again- the wall would be colder, but perhaps safer, right? If the baby was facing the room it might roll out of the blankets and fall off the bed. It wasn’t a long drop by any means, but still! He swapped the child to the other side once again, wrapping another blanket around and over the nest, and then laid there.

What had just happened? Where had the baby’s parent gone? They had said they weren’t, but where else could it have come from? Had it been stolen?

Despite his concern that these thoughts would keep him awake, another force pulled Ingo’s eyelids down and he drifted off to sleep.

It was a knock at the door that pulled Ingo out of slumber.

The sound was quick and heavy, quickly joined by a voice.

“Mr Ingo! Are you awake?”

It was not so much a genuine question as much as it was a wakeup call. One that he was used to at this point. Several months among the Pearl Clan had helped him come to understand not only their language but their habits- he was needed, and so they were waking him.

Sunlight warmed the wooden floor as Ingo slipped out from under his blankets and padded across the floor. His head felt fuzzy and he felt a little confused; his jacket was not hanging up where he had put it the night before and there was a small snowdrift on one side of the door. He looked at it curiously, trying to figure out where it had come from, as he opened the door.

Irida stood before him, her gaze slightly narrowed and her brows drawn tight. Rather than angry he could see the stress in her expression, the way she held herself. He wondered what had happened.

“Good morning, Miss Irida.” ingo said. “How may I be of help?”

“Mr Ingo, it’s almost afternoon. We had a large amount of snowfall last night and need your help. Since you’re an early riser we thought you had already gone out- are you ill to have slept so long?” She asked. “We can’t have anyone else getting sick not so soon after the last wave!”

Ingo blinked, shaking his head and raising a hand. He had arrived, lost and freezing, to the Pearl Clan at the tail end of a lingering sickness. Though he had been cold he had also been healthy and immediately stepped in to help the recovering clan; distrustful members had warily guided the confused man around the territory to gather berries and check game. They doubted his memory loss but couldn’t afford to deny his aid. To many he had been a necessary evil. To some, he still was. To Irida, who was still young but in the running to lead the clan, he was a goal.

“I apologize, Miss Irida. I woke up last night after having a very strange dream. It must have taken me a while to fall asleep, if I indeed slept until noon. I will get ready to help.”

He went to close the door so he could dress, sighing out, “the moon was so bright it seemed to be daylight.”

Irida shot him a look.

“Mr Ingo, there was no moon at all last night.” She stated. “It’s why we didn’t see the amount of snow until this morning, despite the watch.”

Ingo froze.

“No,” he said slowly, “no, there very much was a moon. In fact, there was a person as well. They-”

From his bed came a piercing wail. Ingo froze and Irida jumped.

“Mr Ingo,” she said after a moment of listening to the crying child, “is that a baby?”

Pulled out of his panic by her words Ingo rushed to pick the child up. A terrible smell greeted his nose as he removed the baby from the nest of blankets and coat.

“There was a moon,” he said as he stared at the crying child, “it was full and bright, and-”

“Moon later, baby now.” Irida said, taking the infant from his hands. She paused, and then glared at him. “Baby explanation later, baby cleanup now. Where do you keep your changing supplies?”

“She was a… a gift,” Ingo replied dumbly; somehow it felt like the right description, “I have nothing.”

Irida stared at him in complete confusion and irritation before she sighed.

“Baby explanation later, finding the baby new nappies and…. ergh, new clothes now.” She exited his hut with the wailing child. As if pulled by a string Ingo followed, barely slipping his shoes on before stumbling into the soft snow that had yet to be cleared from in front of his home. He ignored the stares as Irida marched - baby held in front of her like a shield - to the home of Calaba. The old Warden was opening the door before they were within ten feet of the house, watching them approach with barely concealed displeasure. She allowed them in with pursed lips and the shake of her head.

Ingo dreaded to know what she was thinking.

As he watched Irida strip the infant to clean her, all the while narrating what she was doing as if Ingo was paying that much attention, one set of words caught his ear.

“I’m sorry, Miss Irida, I am- I am a little… a little off course. Could you please repeat yourself?”

She shot him an irritated glare over her shoulder. This one was truly angry with him; he would be sure to get an earful later. Though she was mostly fair she was also a hot-headed young woman determined to become the next lead of the clan. It was possible this had just hurt her chances.

“I said, Mr Ingo, what’s her name?”

“Her name?” He repeated, “I- I don’t know. They… she didn’t come with a name.”

“They normally don’t,” Calaba snapped from behind him, “which is why their parents give them one. She may be a little young for a name yet- she doesn’t look that old. You moved awfully quick Mr Ingo.” Her tone left no room for doubt- she believed that he had impregnated someone and left them, only for them to return the favor and deposit the baby on his doorstep.

“Warden Calaba, she’s not mine. Someone- someone stopped by last night, in the full moon, and gave her to me. Surely one of the watch noticed them!” He turned to her in an attempt to defend himself. Calaba snorted and crossed her arms.

“It was a new moon, Mr Ingo. There was no light at all. Perhaps you made your own light- did you track someone down and take their child?”

“I would never! That is- that is a horrible thing to insinuate, Warden Calaba, regardless of your affection or lack thereof for me! There were no footprints outside my door, were there? I couldn’t have gone anywhere!” He spun to face Irida. She was tying a new diaper onto the baby, ignoring the wails in her ears.

“With the amount of snowfall last night, footsteps would’ve disappeared quickly Mr Ingo.” She answered sorrowfully. She was loathe to agree with Warden Calaba and her harsh tongue.

“Do you believe I stole this child?” Ingo demanded of her.

Irida finished wrapping the infant, handing her back to Ingo. Only once she was in his arms, face buried in his chest as she gripped his tunic tightly with chubby fists, did she quiet. WIth her wails ceased the silence prevailed in the room as Ingo stared at Irida, who looked between himself and Calaba. If the warden didn’t like her, her chances of achieving leadership would drop even further.

“No,” Irida finally said, “in all the time you’ve been here, you haven’t come off as that sort of person, regardless of how others have seen you. But the baby-”

“I don’t know where she came from. I awoke to a knock at my door last night and someone gave her to me. They did not introduce themselves, only told me not to lose her, and then they left. I thought it was a dream until she began to cry after soiling herself.” Ingo said firmly. He turned to look at Calaba as he spoke, meeting her impassive gaze firmly. There was a tense moment until she grunted and looked away.

“So a mystery person dropped a baby onto a stranger’s lap.” She muttered.

“I’ll organize a search party,” Irida said, “a couple. If they were around last night then they must be nearby- the snow was falling much too heavy and quickly for them to have gotten far.”

Ingo understood the insinuation- they were, most likely, looking for a corpse.

“Until then… we should find her a home with a wetnurse, and-” Irida went to take the child from Ingo despite having just deposited her back into his arms. He tightened his grip just as Irida’s hands clasped onto her sides. Feeling the other touch the baby began to scream. Irida immediately stepped back, covering her ears, while Ingo turned away and rocked from side to side. She quieted after a few moments, gurgling quietly against his chest once more. Ingo and Irida looked at each other. She reached out to take the baby again. Ingo didn’t tighten his grasp this time, slightly holding her away from him, but as soon as Irida touched her she opened her mouth to scream once more.

Irida stepped back, expression turning to confusion. “She won’t let me take her.” She said.

Calaba scoffed.

“She’s an infant. Give her here, she’ll quiet down if you just hold her a moment.” She demanded.

Ingo reluctantly handed the baby over. Just like with Irida, as soon as Calaba had a hold of her she began to shriek her displeasure. Calaba pulled her close and began to rock her as Ingo had, but as the minutes passed on the shrieking turned to sobs. Like the night before the baby raised her fists, pounding on Calaba’s chest to express her displeasure. One of them must have nailed the older woman well because she let out a surprised breath, her arms’ hold weakening momentarily. Ingo was there in a heartbeat, reaching out to take hold of the girl.

Once she was back in his arms she began to grow quiet, wrapping a hand in his tunic as her sobs turned to crying, turning to whines that quieted into hiccuping breaths as he rocked her. Her teary eyes met his gaze with an unexpected intensity. She held onto his tunic in a way that, were she an adult, Ingo would believe to be some desperation. Don’t let me go, she seemed to be begging, don’t let them take me away!

I won’t, Ingo thought back, I won’t let them take you. I promise.

“Well,” Irida said after a moment, “I believe that she wishes to stay with Ingo.”

“Hmph. She’ll still need a wetnurse unless he’s hiding milk behind that tunic.” Calaba said the words dismissively. “He’ll also need to learn how to change her, and get her clothes, and-”

“Akari.” Ingo said, breaking the sentence.

“Who? We don’t have an Akari in the village. Is that her mother?” Irida asked, approaching. She kept a distance from the baby, preparing to step back in case the screaming started once more. Wrapped in Ingo’s arms the baby met her gaze placidly.

“No. It’s… her. Her name.” Ingo trailed a finger from the girl’s forehead, where small wisps of dark hair were already threatening to fall in her face, down over her nose. She smiled and giggled, wrapping a hand around Ingo’s finger and shaking it. Ingo couldn’t help but think she must feel excited.

“Her name is Akari.”

#Pokemon legends Arceus #PLA #Irida #Ingo #Akari #After encasing myself in dad and found dad media I had an idea #I mean I have my own lol PLA universe which includes my OCs but #I haven't touched it bc reasons but honestly #Fuck it we ball. New series with 0 pressure for me lol #Other things are still a wip but I also needed to practice uploading on AO3 #Some things did not load as they should so there is that issue...#Not a big problem with 3k words but uh.#I don't want to be combing through 20k to fix italics and stuff #Esp on such a small and limited screen #Anyway I'm rambling now. Here's some fic. Have some infant Akari #Arceus is a deadbeat dad (they're upset Akari screamed as soon as they picked her up)#(Arceus is like 'why does she not immediately love me? Time to re-home her')#Haven't decided the exact behavior of Arceus in this one but at the very least they're not as malicious as they are in #Like 99% of my other fics (sorry. I like naughty bad god Arceus)#Uhhhh personal tagging for tracking hmmmm....#OBF series #That'll do pig. That'll do.

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angelsdean · 1 year

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their sibling dynamics are so fascinating to me bc i have a similar parentified dynamic w/ my own younger sister, like to the point where it's the "joke" in the family that i'm literally her second mother / third parent like people say that about me. anyways. but we're also like, besties ??? and we have a bigger age gap than dean and sam, double their age gap actually. and we both make fun of each other and "fight" and have our own inside jokes and can make each other riot with laughter from just a single look and we can have whole conversations w/o saying a word and we have overlapping neurodivergencies that just make us go "same brain!" but then also she has sensory issues that i just do not get and vice verse and we tease each other abt them but if anyone else were to do such a thing obvs it'd be like wtf dude??? but we're allowed to be extra mean to each other (and no one else can) bc we love each other and it's unconditional and we're literally besties. but then at the same time, she'll be a huge baby and not want to do something or do it wrong and i'm just like [exasperated sigh] "give me that" and just do it myself. or she won't want to order at restaurants. or ask for help finding something in a store. and i also do not want to do that but my older sibling "mother-mode" kicks in and i'm like ok fine i'll do this for you. and i always give her the bigger portion of things if it's not evenly cut or distributed. and i'll leave the last of the pink lemonade in the fridge for her and drink water instead. and it's just, a weird complicated dynamic of "i love you like my own kid but also you are my sibling and we will have these sibling moments of getting on each other's nerves but i'm also always going to put you first in the things that really matter" and that's how i see the sibling dynamic from dean's POV really. and sometimes the show manages to show that dynamic but a lot of times it flops hard on getting the sibling-isms right and it's very frustrating lol

#not turning on rbs but i just wanna talk abt thee sibling dynamics !#i feel like a lot of ppl just don't get it ?? esp if you don't have a sibling yourself or you're the younger sibling #OR you just have a normal non-parentified dynamic #like having an older sibling who just does stuff for you occasionally is not the same as having an older sibling who everyone including #your parents sees as a 'third parent' to them and who is treated like a parent and given parent responsibilities #and above all that IS emotionally thee main parental figure and the one ur sibling actually goes to when they need something #a lot of ppl will insist that ppl take the 'sam is dean's kid' stuff too far and that nooo they're brothers let them be brothers #but it's !!! complicated !!! when one of them is in a parentified role !!!!!#like i said w/ my own sister. we absolutely are siblings and have those sibling moments. most of the time we act like siblings #but there's always an undercurrent of. ok but she does come first in a lot of ways. and i'm responsible for her #which i think is something dean feels a lot and is actually like. the crux of their dynamic and why he constantly gives up so much #to follow his father's first commandment of 'look our for your little brother'#but crucially !! sam doesn't reallyyy see dean as his parent. he sees dean his annoying older brother. and that's where things clash a lot #between them. bc in *my* situation my sister also is aware of the parentification and we're gotten to the point were WE can joke abt it #but sam imo does Not see how dean is literally his main parental figure. bc john as his authoritarian father is so large in his mind #whew. lots of tags ajsfdkf maybe i Will have to make a proper post abt all this later but i just wanted to ramble my thoughts rn #vic.txt

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