#the accent marks r important | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-land-lacking-sleep · 11 months ago

Text

Submas/PLA Fic: Electric Trains are the Future Ch. 18 - I am Emmet. Thank you for your hospitality.

Previous chapter (17) - Current Chapter - Next Chapter (18)

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to Electric Trains are the Future! I decided to celebrate by giving you readers a FUCKING DOOZY of a chapter (size wise, it's fairly chill). Despite taking over two months, this fic is still going, and we should have it done before the next anniversary!

Chapter Summary: Kamado has a talk with the travelers in his village, then Emmet tours Jubilife. Chapter Warnings: Emmet begins to have a breakdown about 3/4 of the way through the chapter, though it doesn't hit until closer to the end. Chapter Word Count: 6175

Please, read either below or over on AO3 where I ramble! Reblogs and comments are appreciated, but never required.

This Galaxy Building was muuuch better than the one Emmet had visited in Eterna City. It had calmer and more neutral colors, and the use of real wood added a relaxing touch to the entire atmosphere that was lacking in that spike-covered office building in the present. Future. Whenever.

However, going up into the Commander’s office was a different feeling. The light walls that filled the building below were replaced by a dark gray, likely to mark the importance of the room. It kills the calm mood and just makes Emmet feel on edge as he sat down next to Elesa and Akari on the left side of the office, while Elio sat down between Cynthia and Volo on the other side.

And looking at the Commander behind his desk, Emmet could tell that the dour feeling that the room gave was likely getting to him. He was frowning just as strong as Ingo, but Emmet could tell that there was a forcefulness to the frown that Ingo didn’t have. And the glare he was giving them, especially to Volo, was far harsher than anything his brother could give off.

However, even with the glaring, this Commander was chatting with Cynthia in a tone that was obviously not hostile. “I know that you have plenty of questions, Ms. Cynthia, but I need you to understand,” the Commander says as he strokes his admittedly impressive moustache, “that you’re starting to get into questions that I don’t have answers for.”

“But I know that the Survey Corps has been cataloging the information they have been finding about the ruins,” Cynthia prods with a soft whine. “Surely you can share a bit of details? An etching? A recreation of a pictograph? Many of the ruins around the mountain will get buried in rock slides in the next few decades.”

“I already told you, we haven’t begun that project yet,” the Commander grumbles, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “My- The Lady Cogita would have some details, but from what she has informed me, she is currently host to a visitor.” As Cynthia begins to speak, he quickly holds up a finger to stop her. “And I am the good authority to tell you that you do not want to speak with this visitor.” Emmet didn’t miss Volo scowling and gripping the arm of his chair tighter.

Emmet’s smile twitches momentarily, and he finds himself standing back up, pointing one arm at the Commander and another at Cynthia, looking above their heads at the wall (what a subdued shade of green he thinks to himself). “I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I would like some coffee, so let’s talk.” Emmet holds the pose for a moment before looking down at Elesa expectantly. “Did you bring the coffee up here?”

“I have it right here, Subway Boss-han,” the Commander says, his accent slipping slightly as he gestures to the kettle of coffee. “Feel free to pour yourself a cup. You may be a guest, but I wasn’t the one who requested coffee be brought up to my office this morning.”

“You still had some,” Akari quickly interjects as Emmet quickly pours himself a cup of coffee and sits back down.

“Yes, because I need all the help I can get when I have to call you in 2 hours after sunrise,” the Commander grumbles before he scoots his chair back and stands up, assuming a pose that reminded Emmet of his uncle Hajime during his lectures to the cousins. “To those who have not met me, my name is Denboku Kamado, and I am the Commander of this Galaxy Team. I would like to welcome you three to Jubilife Village, the eventual seat of the Hisuian government. Kurosawa-san here,” Kamado continues, gesturing to Cynthia, “told me a bit about how you got here, but I would like to hear the story from you as well, Subway Boss-san.”

Emmet pauses mid-sip, the coffee dribbling onto his tongue before he tilts it more to get a mouthful, swallowing the cooled drink and placing the cup down into his hand like a plate. “I am Emmet. Are you just wanting to know why I’m here?” Kamado nods seriously, causing Emmet to swallow a bit at the ever-growing similarity between this man and his uncle in the Dan. “Well, I came to find my wife.” Beside him, Elesa smiles sweetly, her cheeks pinching her eyes closed. “And hopefully, and thankfully, my brother.” He pauses and adds softly, “I would like to go back downstairs soon.”

“Ingo arrived through the Space-Time rift, just as Elesa later did,” Kamado says, looking down at his desk and jotting a note down on a sheet of paper.

“Ultra Wormhole,” Cynthia quickly corrects, Volo nodding next to her. Kamado looks like he’s about to say something, and instead sighs before motioning for Emmet to continue.

Emmet’s smile perks a bit at the short exchange before he brings it to a more neutral smile. “My brother and I came across this period as kids.” Emmet pauses for a moment to sip his coffee, letting out a contented sigh. “We joked about Ingo being Ingo reincarnated. Then he disappeared.”

“And arrived here,” Kamado dully notes, seeing where the story is leading.

Emmet nods, continuing on. “And then Elesa disappeared, and Volo showed up. I probably shouldn’t have listened to him, the entire situation was suspect.But I was also panicked and had no other options.”

“And so you decided to follow a liar and a thief,” Kamado says with a glare at the liar in question.

“That’s not fair, Kamado,” Akari says, cutting in front of Emmet’s attempt to speak up. “Volo has spent a lot of time making up for what he’s done!”

“Yes, with his supposed immortality,” Kamado says with a glare towards Volo, who shrivels into his chair. “A descendant of the Celestica is what he had told us when he came with the Gingko. And all along, he was a survivor of the massacre. With his actions recently, he should’ve died there.”

There was a small commotion from Elio, Volo, and Cynthia at the comment before Kamado slams a hand down onto the table, cutting them off as Emmet glares at him over his coffee. “I am not going to remove him or your group, so there is no need to be belligerent.” Despite the direct irony of the statement, no one called Kamado his own behavior, preferring to let him talk. “Now, Subway Boss-san, you were telling me how your group arrived here.”

Emmet looks at Kamado’s moustache before sighing and drinking from his coffee before speaking back up. “I am Emmet, Denboku-han,” Emmet says, using his own Johtoan dialect more prominently. “I would prefer you be nicer to my friends. I would not be here without Volo’s help. He is the one who pointed me where to go, that pulled the strings to get me here, and taught me the proper path.” Kamado glares at Emmet for a moment, before crossing his arms and huffing in acquiescence. “Now. Do you want to know anything else?”

Kamado reaches up and strokes his moustache in thought for a moment before speaking back up. “Young Nozawa-kun here mentioned that he had a Pokemon bring you all here. Is that something I need to worry about?”

Emmet leans over and looks down at Elio, who to their credit simply shrugs and shakes their head. With a nod, Emmet looks back at Kamado. “Nope. Solgaleo can create Wormholes to take us places. But it’s very nice! A large house cat, and well trained, yup.”

“And these Wormholes won’t be a threat to the village?”

“No more than Arceus in Akari’s Pokeball,” Emmet says with a widening grin as he sips his coffee. He could hear Elesa gag on his right and feel Akari stiffen on his left as Kamado’s eyes narrow. And if he really listened, he could hear Elio hold in a laugh and Volo’s heart nearly stop.

As Kamado’s gaze shifts to Akari, she drives her elbow into Emmet’s arm and pulls out the Wing Ball that Arceus resides in. “Y-yeah! I, uh, caught one last Pokemon! I already showed the Professor.” There’s a pause as Kamado simply nods, still looking at her for an explanation on Emmet’s comment. “Eheh… It’s, uh… It’s the Almighty Sinnoh.”

“YA CAPTURED THE CLANS’ GOD?!” Kamado roars, one hand slamming into the table to hold himself up as he stumbles back. “Do Adaman-han and Irida-han know?” Akari opens her mouth to explain when a voice emanates from the Pokeball.

Thou needest not to worry. The two leaders of mine children’s clans need not know I exist.

The office stood quiet for a moment before Kamado could sputter out anything. “W… What-”

Also, thou needest not worry about thine town. I am a gentle god. In the day of mine Champion’s youth, I am what is called a blorbo.

The effect of Arceus’ statement was instant. Elio and Akari both double over in laughter, with the ball actually falling from Akari’s grip and rolling under Kmado’s desk with a soft, but reverberant, Oh No. Emmet, Elesa, and Cynthia all did the proper response from an adult and respectfully cringed at the Alpha Pokemon.

All Kamado could do was stare at the ball as it rolls out of sight, then back up at Akari. “I.. Do not want to know what it is talking about. Just… Are we going to have to feed this God too?” Akari is silent for a moment, before averting her gaze and whistling to herself. “I swear to the Whirl, I’m going to dock your pay to afford to feed them. No more captures for a month.”

“You only pay on captures anyway!” Akari cries as she puts her arms out in defiance. “That’s bullshit!”

“And more Pokemon are entering the region every day,” Kamado shoots back, reaching down to retrieve Arceus’ Pokeball from under his desk and handing it back to the young Surveyor. “This meeting is adjourned. I’m going to need to go over finances and figure out an appropriate way to breach the topic of one of my people capturing the Almighty Sinnoh to the Clans.”

Emmet was the first to leave the room, taking his cup of coffee with him as Elesa and Volo quickly followed behind him. As they reach the bottom of the stairs, Volo lets out a heavy sigh. “I still hate that man, I think.”

“I am Emmet,” Emmet says before he fully registers what Volo said, quickly adding, “I don’t blame you. He is severe.” Emmet drinks the last of his cup as Akari and Cynthia descend the stairs, the older Champion patting the younger on the back, with Elio coming up behind them with the rest of the coffee. “Well, the day is early. Ingo is probably going to sleep some more. What is the plan?”

“I told Zisu I was going to fill at the Dojo when I dropped by earlier,” Elesa says with a sigh. “I’ve not been working since Ingo’s fall, and they’ve also been down an instructor because of it.”

Emmet perks up slightly, his eyes lighting up at this. “The Dojo? I wouldn’t mind stopping by. You said that Zisu is a strong trainer.”

Elesa smiles back at Emmet before speaking. “Give us some time to set up and do our daily routines before stopping by, ok?” Emmet enthusiastically nods, and Elesa laughs before giving Emmet a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later, Emmy. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Emmet returns as Elesa quickly makes her way to the stairs to leave. Turning back to the others, he looks over at Volo. “I’m assuming you’re going to stay in here somewhere?”

“As much as I dislike Kamado,” Volo says with a sneer, looking back up the stairs as if he expected to see the Commander looking down at them. “It would probably be best if my old boss didn’t see me, at least not yet. I did just run away on him, after all. And probably got branded as a thief at best, considering I did use stock without permission.”

“I’ll probably hang out here, too,” Elio says, still holding the kettle of coffee on the platter. “I wanna talk with Ingo when he gets back up.” Emmet nods, and looks over at Akari and Cynthia.

The pair look back at him before Akari speaks up. “I need to go get my main team, but I can show you and Auntie Cynthia around Jubilife.”

If a smile could actually light up a room, Cynthia’s would have as her face split with a large grin. “The first settlement in Sinnoh! I would absolutely love to see it all first hand!” She holds a finger up and begins to shuffle through her tote bag, and pulls out a small notebook. “I’ll be sure to get plenty of notes! A proper primary resource to return home with!”

“Just remember when you are,” Volo says with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re already going to stand out, so don’t let people know who you are.”

“I know,” Cynthia says sharply, attempting to shoo Volo off with a hand. “Kamado and I have already talked, no one is going to list our names down while we’re here, and we aren’t going to tell people we’re time travelers. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still research! Surely you’ll want to look through things for inspiration, Mr. Author?”

Volo glares at Cynthia for a few moments before sighing and crossing his arms. “Fine. I really shouldn’t be going places for a bit, but I do want to look around again before we go.” Cynthia smiles again and clenches her fists in excitement while Volo simply shakes his head. “Anyway, I’m heading downstairs to speak with Laventon. Enjoy the outdoors, you three.” With a quick wave, Volo turns around and ushers Elio to the farther set of stairs while Emmet and his crew go to the closer set.

Stepping outside, Emmet instinctively brings his hat a little further down his face to block out the sun, while Cynthia and Akari both step out into the light to seemingly recharge like Sunflora. Emmet could see the guard take a look at him as he descends the steps, the tall foreigner with bright clothing and hidden eyes that looked almost like the ghost of a normal member of the town. Emmet picks up his pace and walks past Akari, only slowing briefly to ask, “First destination?”

Akari picks up her own pace with Cynthia following suit, the latter’s coat billowing out in the wind behind her. “I think Anthe over at the clothier,” Akari says, pointing to a building nearby with a woman in a purple kimono standing outside talking to another woman, this one a redhead in a blue outfit. “I have some replacement uniforms to pick up, and we could see about cleaning your coat.”

“I am Emmet. I want to keep my coat for now.”

“Maybe after a few days, then?” Cynthia says softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, causing Emmet to momentarily pause his step. “I know you pride yourself on keeping your coat and hat clean.”

“Not now,” Emmet says, politely shaking Cynthia’s hand off of him. “Maybe in a few days. Not now.” Akari continues on to talk with Anthe and the other woman, Cynthia stays back with Emmet. After a moment, Emmet sighs. “Is someone looking at me? It feels like there is.”

Cynthia takes a quick scan around the area, seeing a group of kids looking at the pair and talking to each other, but no one else. Cynthia focuses her attention on the group, and each of them recoil as if they had been hit with a Glare, and turn to face away from the pair. “Just a few kids. They’re not looking this way anymore.”

Emmet shakes his head a few times before pulling his hat back up a bit. “I feel like people will stare, yup. They’ll think I’m Ingo.”

“Or worse,” Cynthia says joylessly. “Hisui apparently had a Zoroark problem around this time.” Emmet flinches and crinkles his nose, looking down at the ground. “They’re mostly up north in the Icelands, where Snowpoint City is nowadays.” Cynthia pauses slightly. “Well, in our time. Nowadays there is no city.”

The pair both laugh a little at that as Akari comes back over, this time with the redhead in tow. “Arezu, this is Uncle Ingo’s brother Emmet, and my Auntie Cynthia!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Arezu says, bowing slightly to Emmet and then Cynthia. “Ingo and I aren’t in the same clan, but it’s great to see he’s getting more family and friends coming to see him. Especially with how he’s doing right now, y’know?” Emmet finds himself simply nodding as the woman speaks, letting her just go on for now.

“Are you a normal clan member, or are you a Warden as well?” Cynthia asks, leaning in slightly out of curiosity.

“Oh, I’m a Warden,” Arezu says with slight apprehension as she leans away from Cynthia. “Warden of Lady Lilligant of the Ridge.” As she answered, she continues to move slowly towards the hair salon next door like she was trying to avoid the gaze of a fearsome predator.

A slight tug on Emmet’s sleeve pulls him back from watching the conversation, and he turns to see Akari looking up at him slightly worried. “You ok, Emmet?” Emmet opens his mouth to respond, and when no words come out to do so, simply nods. “Alright, then… I’m gonna go drag Auntie away from Arezu real quick. I was gonna show you both the photography studio next, if you wanna wait there.” She points behind them both at the building across the street, where several pictures were hung.

Emmet nods, and makes his way across the street to the studio as Akari slips past him to wrangle her aunt. The first picture there was something that made Emmet’s smile a touch bigger - a simple portrait of Volo, bent down slightly over his Togepi, a large and genuine smile plastered across his face. It was one of the few pictures here in color, albeit a very subdued color where the presumably vivid blues and yellows of Volo’s uniform were instead dulled to an almost navy and goldenrod.

Next to it was a picture of a large Rapidash, shiny from the look of the flames, though not at all the shade Emmet was used to. Every shiny Rapidash he had seen had silver flames along its mane, but the picture here was showing a lilac flame, perhaps due to the style of photography used. The next photograph was one of the Commander posed up against a Snorlax, with both posed in a way that made it look like the Commander was attempting to suplex the rotund Pokemon. But even the little bit of wrestling knowledge that Emmet had let him know that this had to be staged - The Commander was too low to the Snorlax’ center of gravity, and wouldn’t be able to lift it without endangering himself. It made for a good image, though.

The next two pictures weren’t anything much - One of the Security Corps members posed with their lantern above their Zubat, and a small group of kids posed with their arms up like they were monsters, shouting at the camera. The final picture is what drew Emmet’s attention, though.

Front and center on display was a glossy photograph of Ingo and Akari, with Ingo’s coat and hat all tattered and Akari wearing a white kimono and red sash, with a Sneasel mask propped on her forehead. Ingo was standing tall and at attention, a smile lurking in his eyes as he pointed at the camera, and Akari stood next to him, smiling brightly with a mirrored pose to his brother. Was this a plan on his part, or hers? Did he remember everything at that point, or was he, Emmet, still lost to him?

Emmet quickly brings his wrist up, turning his Xtransciever on and zeroing the camera in on the photograph. He’s never really been the kind to take a picture of a picture, but given the circumstances and the time period, this would do. He snaps a picture from head on, and then one from the side, before stepping over and taking a picture of the photograph that had Volo in it as well. By the time he was closing his Xtransciever up, Akari was walking up with Cynthia.

“Hope we didn’t make you wait, Emmet,” Akari says as she bounces up to the door of the studio. “Dagero is the only person other than Laventon to have a camera, and his is so much better than the professors.” She points at a photograph above the one with Volo, where Melli was posed elegantly with his Skuntank. “We even got a few of the Clan members to take photos. It’s really helped loosen people up.”

Cynthia lets out a small gasp as she approaches one on the far side of the Rapidash, which shows a young woman in pink surrounded by Eevees. “This is a beautiful photograph of Lady Irida! There aren’t many from this point of her life that survived.” As she says the last part, she pulls her Rotom phone from her pocket and snaps a picture of it like Emmet had previously.

Emmet raises his hand to point at the one of Ingo and Akari and opens his mouth to speak , only for nothing to come out. He swallows and scrunches his eyes closed before getting the words out. “I am Emmet. I like this one a lot.” He unconsciously lets out a sigh as Akari notices the photo and perks up.

“Oh, I loved doing that one with Uncle! It was the night of the festival after I calmed down Dialga!” She turns and points to the clearing in front of the Galaxy Building, then lifts her arms up into the sky. “Sanqua and Iscan worked together to build a stage on a mini-pagoda, and Uncle’s Machamp played the o-daiko with Gaeric and Zisu while Irida and Melli did a flute and dance performance above! Rei and I tried some of the food that some Diamond Clan members brought, and then Uncle and I took that photo to commemorate it all!”

Cynthia and Emmet nod as Akari leads them along past the studio and towards some pastures on the outskirts of town. “Anyway, I’m thinking we could hit the Dojo after this? You could meet Zisu, and maybe battle her!”

Emmet and Cynthia both perk up slightly at the idea of battling, Cynthia much more than Emmet. Normally Emmet would likely be the more enthusiastic of the two, but every time he looks in a new direction, he catches sight of someone staring at him. The kids from the clothier. The old lady across the river on her porch. The guard at the gate. Everyone just kept staring at him.

It takes him a few moments to even notice that the trio had stopped, with Akari leading them into the pastures directly. He could see all manners of Pokemon running or resting or playing in the fields. There was a herd of Ponyta galloping behind a lilac-flame Rapidash (I guess that photo wasn’t wrong) and a flock of Starly and Staravia circling the immediate vicinity of the entrance, a few coming down to rest nearby and stare at the trio.

“Yama! Oroshi!” Akari’s call echoes through the pastures, with the latter Pokemon called reacting first. With a distant roar, a rather large Gyrados emerges from a nearby pool and glides through the air towards the trio, landing and sliding along the grass until it bumps into Akari, knocking the teenager off balance. The serpent was larger than any Gyrados that Emmet had ever seen, even with the Pokemon being rarer in Unova than in other regions.

Akari begins focusing on scrubbing some pond scum off of Oroshi’s crest as Emmet hears some footsteps approaching from behind, and turns to see a rather small, but incredibly blue, Snorlax making its way to them. Right after, Cynthia turns and lets out a small scream as she is barreled over by the shiny bear in its pursuit of its Trainer. In Akari’s case, it skids to a stop and stands there for a moment before falling backwards into its butt, throwing its hands into the air in celebration.

The growing collection of Pokemon was quickly joined by a Gardevoir teleporting in, an Ursaring running up to the Snorlax and tackling it, and a Staraptor swooping down from the skies to land on the crest of the Gyrados and crying out in greeting. Emmet and Cynthia could only watch as the young champion was engulfed by her team, with the final member, a Typhlosion of some sort, simply deciding to stand next to the two and observe. After a few minutes of petting her team, Akari holds up a few Pokeballs. “Ok, everyone, time to head out!” The effect was instant, as many of the Pokemon reach out to activate their respective Pokeballs and retreat inside, with the Typhlosion continuing to wait calmly next to Emmet.

“Ok, I think I’m good to go now!” Akari says, coming back to the adults and hugging her Typhlosion tight before recalling her. “Let’s go see if Zisu will let us battle her!”

The walk to the Dojo was fairly short, though it involved walking through the residential area and thus more stares, mostly from older men and women. As Cynthia and Akari chat and continue walking, Emmet pulls his hat down over his eyes again and pulls his collar up to block his face, hoping to cut off any chance on catching sight of someone looking at him. Akari had told him that people were wary of outsiders, but this was excessive. Was his resemblance to Ingo causing this? Has no one in Jubilife, or perhaps even Hisui, heard of twins before?

The group arrives at the Dojo to see Elesa battling a teenager from the village and giving them pointers on type match ups as her Stunfisk, Smirks, flopped on the ground to kick up dust for fun. Behind her, observing the battle by the small building, was a tall red-headed woman in a wide stance - Presumably Zisu. And sure enough, Akari bounded up to her and began to talk animatedly, while Cynthia and Emmet hung back, with the former looking at the latter with a bit of worry in her eyes. “You’re being quiet, Emmet. Are you alright?”

Emmet opens his mouth to speak, before simply grimacing and answering with his hands. ‘Too many eyes. I am Emmet. I am not a circus attraction.’ Cynthia grimaced herself, nodding in understanding. As she thought about how to respond, Emmet could only thank the fact that many champion level Trainers knew either Kantonian or Unovan Sign Languages due to the former Kanto champion’s reliance on it.

‘I can handle the talking for you,’ Cynthia signs back as she steps forward to join Akari’s talk with the Dojo leader. Emmet simply nods in thanks, and turns to observe the battle again, watching as Elesa commands her Stunfisk, who leisurely follows the command. The teenager was definitely inexperienced, using moves that either had no or little effect on the Pokemon, who wasn’t even attempting to dodge most of the attacks. Since the battle was so sedated, he instead focused on the movements of the trainers themselves.

The teenager was a little stiff in his movements, though not quite robotic. Instead of being stiff due to over-practice, the teenager just wasn’t sure how to move and conduct himself in battle. Each command was punctuated with a wild fling of his arm, and a pose that was held just a few seconds longer than needed. In contrast, Elesa moved with quick grace, throwing a hand forward with each command and moving her entire torso with the motion. She also would pace slightly, strutting either purposely or subconsciously as she observed the battle from different angles. And she was doing that cute thing, where whenever she stopped pacing to hold a position, she would bump a hip out and place her ha-

“So, you’re Ingo’s brother?” a louder than needed voice says from beside Emmet, pulling his focus from the battle to the red-headed woman who had joined him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! My name is Zisu!” The woman put her hand out to shake his in a very Unovan manner, despite speaking in a clearly native Johto dialect.

With a deep breath, Emmet takes her hand and gives it a firm and polite shake. “I am Emmet.”

“So, Akari tells me you’re a great battler!” Emmet simply nods, not interrupting her to verbally agree. “After Elesa finishes training Koji, do you want to go a round? She and Cynthia-han were telling me about the Double Battles you do!”

Emmet breathes in again, closing his eyes as he pulls up his mental script. “I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I like Double Battles. I like the combination of two or more Pokemon.” Emmet pulls his arms up and assumes his point and call pose, opening his eyes to look firmly between Zisu’s eyebrows. “I do not think I can battle today. But when we do, let’s have a great battle in which every Pokemon uses a variety of moves.”

Zisu’s smiles widely and clenches her fists in front of her. “Fantastic! I have to see the mechanics behind it!” Her smile morphs into an open mouth as she gasps, and she slams a fist down into her palm. “We should battle after Elesa is done!”

Emmet tries his best to keep the grimace from his face as Zisu’s volume creeps upwards with her enthusiasm. She is far too close, and her energy is just becoming far too much, causing Emmet to take a step back. “I- I am Emmet. Not today. I still need to rest from traveling.” Only a little lie. He did want to battle, he needed to have a battle to unwind, but… Noise is too much, and while he can usually make an exception for battles, not today, not while he is unable to even take any eyes on him.

Apparently his expression had shifted, because Zisu puts her hands up and steps back. “I’m sorry, Emmet,” she says with a slight grimace. “Ingo also gets bad with noise sometimes, I didn’t think about that.”

Emmet holds up a hand and takes a deep breath. “Don’t apologize. The town is what is doing it.” He looks behind himself to scan the surroundings, catching no one staring at him. “I need to calm my engines. This cab is catching too much attention.” Turning back, he sighs and pulls his coat tighter. “I’m going to go, if that’s ok. I am Emmet. I will be back.”

Without waiting for a response (though he sort of hears Zisu say “take care”), Emmet turns on his heel and begins walking back to the Galaxy Building. As he walks, he feels a Pokeball on his belt shake, and Mama Fluff, his Galvantula, falls onto the ground beside him before scuttling up onto his back and latching on like a backpack. With her added weight, Emmet slouches slightly and slows down a little as he hears footsteps coming up behind him.

“Emmet!” Akari calls as she approaches. “Emmet, wait! Auntie Elesa said she’s coming!” With a sigh, Emmet stops and turns to face Akari as she barrels down the street towards him, with Cynthia seeming to stay behind at the Dojo and Elesa stepping out of the gates. “She said she would eat with us. The Wallflower can be pretty quiet, even on the outside.”

Emmet looks over at the tables at the restaurant, out in the sun and right next to the main road and the neighboring shop. “Can we go inside?”

Akari herself pauses now, almost wincing into her grimace as she looks at the entrance to the restaurant. “I- Yeah. I don’t like going in there, but it’s probably better for a breakdown. Darker and quieter.” Emmet nods and turns to walk towards the restaurant as Elesa jogs up to his side and gently grabs his hand for a moment before letting it go, causing Emmet’s troubled expression to soften slightly.

As the group approaches the building, though, the old man out front moves to intercept them. “I’m sorry, but you cannot come in with a Pokemon,” he says in a reedy voice, arms behind his back but stance firm. Emmet’s smile drops again, and Mama Fluff on his back chitters in irritation. “This is a food establishment, and I’ve decided that we do not allow Pokemon inside. So either put the beast away, or leave.”

The surroundings begin to fall silent as Emmet trembles slightly, Akari already stepping forward to silently argue in an animated fashion with the old man. Meanwhile, he could barely feel Elesa grab ahold of his hand as he turns to walk away, going further down the street as he fumbles for Mama Fluff’s ball to recall her. As they pass a merchant group, he feels a tug on his arm and looks back to see Elesa talking with an older man in a simple folding chair, who gestures behind the cart. After the gesture, Elesa looks at Emmet, and beckons for him to follow her behind the cart.

Once out of sight of the road, Elesa turns to face him and speaks openly and silently to Emmet, saying something… Breathing? Emmet goes to respond, opening his mouth and finding himself unable to speak past the quick breaths entering and leaving his lungs. Seeing him struggle, Elesa unhooks the water bottle from her waist and puts it into Emmet’s shaking hand, before signing at him ‘Drink. You need to breathe.’ Nodding several times, Emmet tries to take a deep breath, then pours the water into his mouth and holds it there for several seconds before swallowing it.

Emmet opens his mouth to speak again, this time managing, “I-I-I…” before trailing off, his mouth hanging open for a moment. As he struggles to find his words, the older merchant slips into the back with them and drops off his folding chair before hobbling back to the front of the cart. Emmet quickly takes the chair and sits down, just realizing how badly his entire body has been shaking as he raises his hands to speak. ‘I cannot do this.’

Elesa crouches down in front of him, placing a hand on his before signing to him. ‘Yes you can, Deerling. You need to breathe, first. Drink some water, close your eyes.’ Emmet closes his eyes and nods, raising the water bottle back up to his mouth and takes another mouthful as Elesa once again gently grabs his hand, running her thumb in circles on his palm. After swallowing the water, Emmet was able to breathe in deeply, though his exhale still shuddered heavily.

“Can you hear me now, Deerling?” Emmet nods to Elesa’s voice. “Good. You’ll be ok. I’m here. Ingo is here. You are Emmet. You’ll be fine.” Emmet nods again as he struggles to get his breathing under control.

After a moment, he hears another voice from the end of the cart, an older man, probably the merchant. “He holdin’ up alright back there, Miss Elesa?” Emmet doesn’t hear a response, but assumes that she nodded when he hears the man speak again. “That’s good. Take ‘s long ‘s you need. Tuli used to have these when she started, so I’ll keep it quiet back here.” Emmet weakly holds up his hand and gives the man a thumbs up, getting a chuckle from the recipient.

After a few minutes of silence, Elesa speaks up again. “I think Akari is finishing up at the Wallflower.” Emmet quietly nods. “Do you want to go back into the Galaxy Building and eat with Ingo to help calm down?”

Emmet nods, bringing his hands up to sign to her. ‘Yes. Then I’m going to sleep. Today is done, I’m going to travel to the future.’ Elesa chuckles as Emmet finally opens his eyes and stands up, grunting slightly as he takes a few wobbling steps before stabilizing himself. As he and Elesa begin to walk out from behind the cart, Akari walks up to them with two plates positively piled with what seems to and smells like potato mochi.

“I scolded Beni for you, Emmet,” she says, handing a plate over to Elesa. “He said he would apologize, but I wouldn’t expect it.” Emmet simply shakes his head, and begins walking to the Galaxy Building doors.

Hopefully a plate of good food would help to bring him back down.

#submas #submas fic #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon legends arceus fic #electric trains fic #pokemon elesa #gym leader elesa #elesa #pokemon emmet #subway boss emmet #emmet #pokemon akari #akari #pokemon cynthia #champion cynthia #cynthia #this is getting drafted at 2 am and I have to be up in 5 hours lul #my writing #the trains have eaten me

4 notes · View notes

apocryphal-archetypes · 1 year ago

Text

thinking about heathers (1989). honestly gobsmacked and flabbergasted that it even exists.

-it's a movie about high school that is rated R, so the majority of high school-aged people aren't supposed to watch it without a parent.

-none of the actors are actual teenagers and you can REALLY tell because apparently the popular girls at this high school decided they needed to look like the top accountants at goldman sachs.

-also, they play croquet.

-a disaffected young white man plots an act of terror against a high school and this isn't even the main bad thing that happens because the movie came out ten years before that started to become a regular occurrence in american schools.

-it's a movie about gen x written by someone slightly too old to be gen x, so they're caricatured as these morally bankrupt gothic misanthropes. yes xoomers did eat it up.

-betty finn is the hottest nerd you've ever seen and she's preppy but the heathers still decided that veronica, who probably used to growl at people freshman year, should be the one to join their clique.

-this movie is the only time any person, real or fictional, has ever expressed a desire for corn nuts.

-or validated the existence of corn nuts.

-jd knows that his dad exploded his mom and just. lives with him. as if their family was the normal amount of fucked up? he tells veronica abt his mother's death like it's nothing. she decides that what he needs is some spaghetti.

-heather chandler (the most important heather) is dead for the majority of the movie. her ghost appears wearing an outfit she did not die in, never wore, and in fact, wouldn't have been caught dead wearing in life.

-jd's grandpa was a nazi and the canon reason he brings this up is to make veronica less afraid of the fact that he has a gun.

-the surreal elements don't even read as taking place only in veronica's imagination because the entire everything is so buck wild.

-the cheerleader outfits for westerburg high are black with red accents like they're extras in a my chemical romance music video or something.

-heather duke is an ornery repressed lesbian who binges rotisserie chicken in the locker room because if she looked at a woman's body in anything less than a power suit she would implode.

-the whole thing takes place in ohio?

however the most unrealistic part of all of this is that veronica successfully fakes her suicide to her boyfriend whose main characteristic is being obsessed with death and destruction.

and then they made it into a musical on the west end where kurt kelly's dad sings a song about how he loves his dead gay son and the vietnam war is played for a flippant analogy.

because of the language, alcohol use, sex, and triggering content there is a high school edit of the musical. you may have logically assumed that this high school edition is considered appropriate for high schoolers. however i have seen at least one production of heathers the musical high school edition marked as "for mature audiences only".

there is no way this movie exists in the real world. it feels like a fucking straw man. what the fuck. what the fuck. it can't possibly be normal to like this movie.

#heathers #80s #80s movies #heathers the musical #winona ryder #corn nuts

13 notes · View notes

praxinasshanila · 2 years ago

Text

Runic the Dark Magic realm

this template on the lolirock Amino is amazing and i've had it filled out over there for some time, but I've decided to transfer it here. everything below the cut because it is long as all fuck. Behold the massive amount of detail I put into my version of the dark magic realm- Runic!

~~~~<•>~~~~

G e n e r a l

~~~~<•>~~~~

~ Name ~

Runic

~ Location ~

Runic borders the realm of Ephedia to the north. On it’s other borders are Calix, Conifer(another fan realm) and Xeris. Runic is a land-locked realm with a distinct mountain range to the north. While there is no way to access the ocean from runic, there are several freshwater lakes throughout the Runician landscape. Most of the realms land is covered in forest, but there is some usable farmland for agriculture

~ Rulers ~

Runic is overseen by 2 monarchs, traditionally a king and queen. They’re in charge of maintaining the realm and ensuring it never falls into chaos, which it is at a high risk of doing by nature of it’s magical specialty - dark magic. The Queen of Runic holds the real power while the King's role is to support her.

~ Emblem ~

Traditionally the emblem of Runic has always been some form of black bird, as they have a general symbol of magic and mystery. Runic’s relation to dark magic makes it unique and mysterious to the outside world. In Runic the emblem changes with the royal on the throne, mostly coming from the queen. Most recently the main symbol of Runic was a crow, a symbol of foresight and change. The emblems of the realm are mainly displayed on clothing and the signage of important institutions such as schools.

~ Colours ~

The main colour associated with Runic is black. This is once again because of the dark magic, but also because the royal family has had jet black hair for several generations. Their magical dresses also are mainly black. White is often paired with it to accent the color.

~~~~<•>~~~~

L o c a t i o n

~~~~<•>~~~~

~ Terrain ~

Runic is a rocky realm, much of the terrain is exposed continental crust. In the north there’s a large well known mountain range, this range partially borders Calix and blocks Runic off from the more northern realms. Most of the realm is covered in forested plains, these forests are home to most of the realms wildlife and are extremely diverse. The forests provide a lot to the people of Runic when it comes to Exports for the realm. The fresh water lakes of Runic and rivers connecting them are the only real sources of water in the realm as it’s entirely landlocked. While the forests do cover most of Runic's land, in the southernmost parts of the realm there is usable farmland. This small section is a major source of food for the entire realm and is the heart of their agriculture

~ Climate ~

There are 4 distinct seasons in most of Runic but the northernmost, mountainous part of the realm is cold and snowy most of the year. Springs are temperate and beautiful, but the shift between winter and spring is often wet, there’s a lot of hailstorms as it transitions from snowfall to rain. Summers are hot and humid until the peak of the season, which is prone to thunderstorms and heavy rain in the nights. Fall is marked by a distinct drop in temperature, it’s the harvest season for the southern farmlands of the realm. Winters are brutally cold and feature heavy snowfall. Almost all the seasons are prone to fog during any kind of precipitation, this makes a lot of the realm look even more foreboding to outsiders but the people of the realm are used to it. Because of the range of temperature housing in Runic must be well insulated to keep homes warm in the winter and cool in the summer months. Most people in Ruinc have both a summer and winter wardrobe to accommodate the temperature shift.

~ Architecture ~

The capital of Runic is located slightly south of the center of the realm not far from the largest lake. It’s the northernmost farming town with a forest bordering one side. Just to the north of the town, on the top of a hill is the palace. large and imposing, it’s mostly made of tall towers. most of which have domed roofs and decorative stipals. Covered Walkways connect the towers to one another, but all of them also connect to a main castle building. The building itself has a peaked roof with several arches over windows and high doors leading in and out of it. The courtyard of the castle is an elaborate garden with a high fence. The castle is lined with dark crystals that make it seem more imposing and threatening but they really serve as a reminder of the realms respect for dark magic. The homes and buildings of the town itself are often made of wood or stone and are heavily insulated to protect from the harsh weather of the realm. Most runician houses have some form of fireplace/chimney set up to allow people to cast fire spells safely to heat their homes. This style of home is the norm across Runic. Peaked roofs are popular to allow snow to fall off instead of accumulating in the winter.

~ Animals ~

Animals in Runic are somewhat different from other realms because of the concentration of dark magic. While they’re similar species to their neighboring realms, Runician animals will have differences either in appearance or behaviour. Many are larger, darker in color, or more aggressive than their Xerian or Ephedian counterparts. Some of the more well known runician animals are:

Ursalori

These are native to Runic, Calix, and Ephedia, but the ones in Runic are bigger and more aggressive than their Ephedian or even Calixian counterparts. Huge, powerful and territorial, these are runics largest and most dangerous predators, similar to earth’s grizzly bear. They live in the forests of the realm and mainly eat fish from the rivers and berries. Runician Ursalori have incredibly powerful livers and kidneys that allow them to eat berries off plants that would be poisonous to the average Ephedian person. The ursalori are highly resilient to magic, their plets absorb any magic they come in contact with and turn the power into a hard crystalline armor protecting the creature. A person can’t out run an ursalroi and bolting will trigger it to chase, but if it’s interest has been caught by something else moving out of its line of sight is often enough to escape an encounter with this massive predator.

Venatace

Similar to Amarus in the way earth wolves are similar to dogs. Venatace are smaller than earth’s wolves but at least equally as dangerous. This pack species lives in the forests of northern Runic. A pack can communicate telepathically but make no verbal noises. They’re agile and place as little of their weight down with each step allowing them to move almost silently through their home territory. Unlike the closely related species Amaru, Venatace don't transform as profoundly, instead they simply sprout wings. Most of these creatures do not fly for long distances but instead use their flight in small bursts, mostly allowing them to take to the trees and more easily catch species of birds native to the area. Runician venatace are almost always jet black and hunt in the night using their dark pelts to camouflage themselves in the shadowy forests.

Cervalux

These creatures look like a deer out of a horror movie, just a little bit wrong. They’re large herbivores that feed on the plant life in the forests of Runic. They spend their days lumbering through the woods eating, carefully choosing only the nontoxic plants. They always appear pensive. These creatures are considered to be symbols of knowledge and wisdom in Runic. While they are generally harmless meek creatures they are unsettling to look at and many people fear them. They have large crystalline antlers and luminescent spots dotting their whole bodies. Their eyes also appear to have an eerie glow to them. It’s said if one of these creatures crosses your path without looking at you, you’re on the right one. but if you see the cervalux’s eyes turn back.

Slinkies

Kind of a combination of a ferret, a fox and a snake. Roughly the size of an earth fox, runician slinkies are furry creatures with pelts that come in shades of reds, browns, and black. They have long bodies and small legs, they appear to slink and slither when they move. These sly little creatures can manipulate their bone structure to allow themselves to fit into any space they can stick their head through. they can also unhinge their jaws to swallow a meal whole and run off with it if need be. They prefer to eat normally as it’s harder on their digestion to swallow a meal in that way but they’ll do it anyway. They’re known thieves and will steal anything they assume is food. They’re a major threat to small livestock, but are a cowardly species that doesn’t like to fight and thus are not much of a threat to people. Slinkies are an adorable but annoying species.

Ardormenta Cattle

In the farmlands of southern Runic, these cattle are a common livestock animal. Most commonly they’re found on dairy farms but they’re also used for meat. These cattle are gentle giants, while they are docile there is still a danger to them because of their size. These creatures don’t have any innate magic to them but rather absorb magic from the plants they consume. The magic manifests in giving the cattle a variety of coloured plets and a vague glowing aura around them. This process also produces a fair amount of heat, making the area around the cattle warm. They have a complex digestive system that allows them to eat almost any plant they happen across, even ones that are poisonous to the average person. Because of this there are parts of these cattle that cannot be eaten by people and they must be butchered carefully for the meat to be sold. The cattles diets also affect their milk production and even favor. the dairy industry takes this into account and certain cattle are given different diets to make their milk more suited to creating different dairy products (for example a sweet milk is better suited for desert items than say cheese)

~ Foliage ~

Runic is mainly forested plains, there’s a diverse array of plant life within these forests. A number of plants in Runic have developed a resilience to the dark magic that surrounds them, others have developed means to filter out this magic entirely. On the other side of things some plants absorb the magic around them, these often grow bigger than the others around them. These types of plants are basically magic sponges and are often used in fending off the negative impacts of dark magic, and some are even useful in helping people recover from corruption. Plants that can completely filter dark magic often produce some kind of incredibly toxic fruit or leaf as a result. Some of these plants are straight up poisonous, others can be used to make drugs, both for medical uses and recreational ones.

Darkwood blood Willow

A large tree species native to southern Runic. The darkwood blood willow adsorbes dark magic from the soil around it, giving its bark a near black tone. It’s leaves are a deep red, giving it it’s name. These trees are important to keeping dark magic levels balanced in Runic. Their leaves are used in teas that help protect against corruption and ease stress.

Runician Nightshade

Small dark purple berries that grow underside small bright flowers. Bushels of this plant grow near the forest floors in Runic. The flowers of this plant are beautiful and fragrant, they’re used in a number of perfumes and soaps. The berries however are highly toxic, just one could kill an adult in a matter of hours.

Starlight flowers

Large, tall flowers that grow only in the end of summer and early fall. These flowers bloom mainly at night, giving them their name. These flowers absorb dark magic giving them various dark colored stalks and petals. The leaves and stems of these flowers are toxic, the seeds however are a common healthy snack.

Dripweed

A small pitcher plant found in the forests of Runic. These plants produce a thick liquid that drips into their pitchers. The plants use this to attract and trap unsuspecting insects to use for extra nutrients. This liquid is incredibly bitter to taste but it is incredibly useful in reducing the effects of dark magic on a person, and reversing corrupting. It is a key ingredient in the Runician sludge, a disgusting but highly effective corruption remedy.

Evergreen trees

Similar to the trees of the same name on earth, these trees are found throughout runic and are the most common plant in the realm. In northern Runic they make up most of the forests. These trees grow to huge heights and keep their leaves through the harsh winters of Runic. These trees have strong regenerative abilities and will regrow so long as the roots are left intact making them incredibly useful for lumber. The wood of these trees is naturally magically insulated making it ideal for building housing. The regenerative abilities extend to the pine needles, which have healing properties if used in the right potions or alongside the right spells. The sap from these trees has only minimal magical properties but it’s very sweet and can be boiled down into a syrup and used in a variety of desserts (similar to earth's maple trees).

Basic farm fruits and vegetables are also grown in southern runic, mostly things similar to earth's potatoes, corn, tomatoes, pumpkins, apples, cucumbers and beans.

~ Neighbours ~

Ephedia, Xeris, Conifer and Calix are the closest realms to Runic. All surround the realm and directly border it.

~~~~<•>~~~~

E c o n o m y

~~~~<•>~~~~

~ Occupations ~

Runic was an overwhelmingly scholarly realm, many of its people choose to dedicate their lives to the study of magic. Spellcraft and the art of creating new spells is also a high value skill and new spells were once created in runic very regularly. The biggest focus was on countering the effects of dark magic and making it a safer form of magic to use as well as studying the history of black magic and it's many benefits. In southern Runic much of the land is farmland and thus farm work and animal husbandry are very common occupations. Runic being so forest covered in general means lumber work is a major industry as well.

~ Status ~

Runic was once a well established, wealthy realm. It’s position was solidified by the realm's vast knowledge of dark magic, and development of ways to defend against it, making Runic a needed ally to several prosperous realms

However when Gramorr rose to power, Runic was among the first realms he chose to destroy. It’s unclear if this was because of the threat the realm posed to him given their knowledge or because of a personal vendetta. His attack on the realm was sudden and brutal, the entire royal court was destroyed in a single attack that all but leveled the palace. There were no known survivors. with no one left to lead and the terrifying new pressure of Gramorr’s forces taking over, the realm fell into chaos. The army of Runic attempted to regain control but could not handle both returning order to the realm and fending off Gramorr's forces. Neighbouring realms were too busy preparing their own defenses to intervene in any way. Runic is generally seen as a fallen realm now, and is currently a hotbed of crime and unregulated dark magic.

~ Export ~

Runic has several exports. Remedies for dark magic corruption are sought after across all of Ephedia and nowhere makes them better than Runic. Certain plant life in Runic naturally produces certain remedies without the need of extra spellcraft to make them work which makes them invaluable, others have the raw materials needed in a number of medicines across the globe. Lumber is another major industry given the vast forests of the realm.

~ Import ~

While the farmlands of southern runic provide food for most of the realm there are a number of things that can’t grow in any part of Runic because of the high concentration of dark magic and cold weather. A lot of food is imported from warmer realms. Runic also imports a number of fungi and molds from Loog as these are needed for many of their remedies and spellcraft. A lot of metals also have to be important from other realms.

~ Trading ~

They largely trade with Ephedia, Xeris, and Calix due to their close proximity to those realms

~~~~<•>~~~~

C u l t u r e

~~~~<•>~~~~

~ Laws ~

While dark magic is legal to use in Runic, the practice of dark magic is much more restricted than outsiders think

- In order for a person to start learning they must pass a series of tests to prove they won’t be easily corrupted. Practicing dark magic without proof of having passed these tests is illegal. A dark mage can be told to retake these tests at any time.

- No girl may begin her study of dark magic until she’s passed her Shanila. This is because dark magic doesn’t lead to shanila and it would be a waste of potential. It also ensures a rough age restriction on learning dark magic to prevent young children from using it and getting hurt.

- If someone is found to be misusing dark magic they will be banned from continuing their study and practice of said magic. In some cases a mage may be able to petition the court to regain this ability after a set amount of time has passed but it depends on the severity of the case. In extremely serious cases people can be banned from using any magic whatsoever.

~ Values ~

Runic has put a strong value on knowledge and peace. Some dark spells can only be broken by dark magic, thus good people with a knowledge of that magic will always be needed. This is the base ideology of the realm. The realm is often mischaracterized as evil because of its connection to dark magic, but Runic’s study of dark magic has been integral to protecting Ephedia from it’s forces for years.

~ Roles ~

People’s roles in Runic tend to be decided by their bloodline. People traditionally raise their children to inherit the family business, whatever that may be. This ranges from things like family farms and businesses, to whole families of scholars or performers. Sometimes people have passions or talents outside of this structure and can pursue those assuming they have the means to do so. But in general having a familiar background in any profession in Runic is considered an asset. Marrying into another trade or class is not uncommon in Runic and people often choose to enter the professions of their spouse's family as opposed to their own.

~ Fashion ~

Fashion in Runic varies with the seasons, people need to keep warm in the harsh winters and cool in the summer. Clothing that can be easily layered is popular because it allows an article of clothing to be worn across multiple seasons if paired with another. Capes and cloaks are incredibly popular in Runic. Many have fur trims and thick lining for the winter months but there are also lightweight breezy cloaks worn in summer months to keep the sun off people. Young girls are often given caplets instead of full length ones. The working class people of runic tend to wear thicker/sturdier fabrics. Leather clothing, coats, and accessories are popular in runic, and are made from the hides of Ardormenta cattle. Members of the more upper class society wear thinner fabrics in more layers. Shoes are also a big indicator of class in runic. Working class people have strong practical footwear, built to last and withstand hard work. Scholars tend towards more comfortable footwear not needing the added strength but still favoring practicality. Members of high society wear less practical, more frivolous footwear, heels are popular in both men and womens shoes (men have smaller thicker heels while women tend towards a taller sharper one).

~ Diet ~

food in runic is different depending on the area of the realm and what is more abundant. Runic also imported a lot of its food from other realms so there was a lot of variations and different options when It came to meals. Some common drinks/meals native to Runic are;

Blood Willow Tea

Tea made from the leaves of the blackwood blood willow trees. This tea has a deep red color, subtle flavor and helps in fending off negative effects of dark magic and relieving stress.

Fruxius

A dish made from frying a common starchy vegetable, similar to earth’s potato, covering it in a thick sauce and what’s basically cheese. This is commonly made and served during festivals in southern runic.

Runician aged whiskey

Dark magic affects all things in the realm and ephedia’s equivalent to alcohol is no exception. The magic that surrounds the realm seeps into the drinks over time and gives them deeper richer flavors than can be found in any other realm. All Runician alcohols must be properly aged for this effect to happen but connoisseurs of Ephedian drinks will tell you no realm has one better than properly aged Runician whiskey

~ Holidays ~

Celebration is important in runic, being so connected to dark magic is risky. The more unhappy a person is the more they may be tempted to misuse their magic and the harder it becomes for them to control it. So the people of runic try to keep spirits up with regular lively celebrations

One of the biggest celebrations of the year takes place in the middle of the winter, on the darkest day of the year. In place of other realms’ festival of lights, this is runic’s festival of the dark. It’s a celebration of their magic with a heavy emphasis on darkness not being inherently negative. The celebration of this holiday is mainly at night, whole communities will come together to put on displays of magic, dance and music. “Light can only shine it’s brightest when there is darkness” is a big saying during this holiday.

Shanila is the most important step a girl can take in Runic, hitting your shanila is proof that your light magic foundation is strong. With that foundation a young runician is ready to begin her study of dark magic should she have passed their corruption tests and choose that path. Shanila is about doors opening for the child who has reached it and is cause for massive celebrations. In Runic it is customary to decorate the short hair during the shanila period with ribbons in the color of the mage’s crystal magic. These ribbons symbolize the magic of the person in question and mimic the longer hair’s return once her shanila is complete. A Runicians shanila is normally celebrated with most of their family and friends with one major party early on in the process and several smaller parties throughout her shanila period. When a princess of the realm enters her shanila this is cause for celebration, parties will be held throughout the realm.

~ Arts ~

The arts are very important in Runic, people need a creative outlet to fend off the negative effects of the dark magic around them. Most people in runic are encouraged to take on some form of art as a hobby at the very least. Traveling performers are a common thing in Runic, and are well respected for bringing entertainment to everyone.

Among the most respected of the art forms in Runic is dance. Traditional Runician dance is a very physically intensive style which requires a high level of accuracy and involves a lot of acrobatics. Much like earth’s ballet, professionals in this style of dance are trained from childhood and well respected for their elegance and technical skill.

~ Sports ~

Winter sports are a big deal in ruinc.

Ice skating is a popular activity in Runic. Figure skating is especially popular for implementing many of the same techniques as traditional runician dances.

There’s a sport that involves skating, magic and often fighting. The goal is simply to score on the opposite team's net but both sides are allowed to use magic to alter the rink to stop one another. they’re not allowed to use magic to completely block off their own net, there’s strict rules about how wide blocades can be and how many can be up per team at a time. You also are not allowed to cast a spell directly on another player. There is however no rule against putting up a barrier in someone's path or knocking another player into an existing one. Getting into an actual brawl is also against the rules but that doesn’t stop it from happening, players involved in a fight are given penalties. People of runic enjoy playing this sport as a means of letting off steam and aggression in a regulated and safe manner, and also because it is entertaining to watch.

~~~~<•>~~~~

L e a d e r s h i p

~~~~<•>~~~~

~ King ~

King Ravindra -The last king of Runic, was a kind man. The younger son of a noble family who married the queen in his elder brother’s stead, not to steal the throne but out of true love. He believed fully in the values of Runic. He respected dark magic and also had a healthy fear of it. There was initial controversy about him taking the queen’s hand in marriage but in time the king's good nature and ability to connect with rulers from other realms made him well liked. His job is mainly to maintain affairs with other realms and handle trade negotiations. He also planned many of the events and assemblies for the realm

~ Queen ~

Queen Carrow - The last queen of Runic, was opinionated and headstrong, but a good ruler. She was good at seeing people's true colors. This is why she chose to marry the kinder youngest brother that became the king, rather than the elder one she’d been betrothed to. She had a responsibility to her people which she took very seriously, keeping her land peaceful and safe. Her dedication to her people made her a well loved queen. Her main job is handling internal affairs, enforcing and writing laws, and handling citizens counsel. But she also handled defense of the realm

~ Heirs ~

In general the Runicain throne is passed down from the queen to her eldest child.

The heir to the throne of Runic was the Princess - Elaina, A rambunctious child with a love of dance and mischief. She was headstrong like her mother but was dedicated to mastering her spell craft. At the time of Runic’s fall she was the sole blood heir to the throne with no other siblings. From her, the right to the thorne would have been passed through a ranking of the royal court but unfortunately the nature of Runic’s fall left none to claim it.

Currently the most likely heirs to the throne of Runic are the legendary “lost survivors of Runic”. While there are no confirmed survivors of the attack on Runic’s royal court, not every body is accounted for. Rumors run rampant across Ephedia about these potential survivors. The most baseline version of the legend says

“the survivors will return one day, grown and powerful, destined to take revenge on the forces that took their home from them. They will reclaim and liberate their realm, returning it to its former prosperity. The rise of Runic will symbolize peace returning to Ephedia.”

The legend is highly disputed and no one is sure how much truth there is to it - if any - but it is wildly popular across Ephedia regardless.

~ Challenges ~

The last king of Runic had an elder brother, a skilled and powerful dark mage. This brother was more powerful than the king himself, given that and his status as the eldest he saw himself as the most fit to rule. But his abrasive personality and self satisfying additude made him difficult to be around and as a result it was his younger brother who found success. The queen married the younger of the 2 brothers making him king. This angered the older brother to no end but for years he bit his tongue and continued his study of dark magic. Unfortunately the elder brother’s study of dark magic was not out of respect for it or to protect others from it, it was only a quest for power. Without respect for the power he sought, the more he studied the more he lost himself to the darkness. Slowly becoming corrupt and allowing his anger and jealousy to fester within him. The king noticed the changes starting in his brother, begging him to stop practicing dark magic, but his brother took this as an insult rather than the attempt it was to save him. The final straw however was when another realm’s king insulted the royal cast of Runic. The king of Runic took the insult in stride, being the bigger person and avoiding a conflict, but his brother saw this as an act of weakness. He decided his brother had no right to call himself a king, he denounced him and said he would show all of Ephedia who was more powerful before disappearing from the realm entirely. Legend has it this was the origin of Gramorr himself - although there's no proof either way of if this is true or not.

Runic currently has no royal court at all and is in a state of pure chaos. On top of that the Tiara of Runic vanished after it’s initial fall. The Tiara was the crown passed down through Runician royals. It has 2 magic gems on it’s sides that always displayed the magic color of the current ruler and next heir to the throne, making the hierarchy very clear to all who saw it. With the tiara missing and the court destroyed no one can be sure who the next rulers should be.

~~~~<•>~~~~

A l l i e s

~~~~<•>~~~~

~ Xeris ~

Xeris is the closest and most important ally to Runic. Both realms specialize in knowledge of magic and information. Runic has an unfortunate reputation due to it’s work with dark magic, keeping a close alliance with a realm as respected as Xeris is incredibly important to Runic keeping it’s credibility as a realm. To Xeris keeping track of dark magic and how to fight against it is also incredibly important so keeping an allegiance to Runic is important to them as well. The 2 realms mainly trade in knowledge. But remedies for dark magic corruption are also highly sought after by all realms and Xeris is no exception. The allegiance between Xeris and Runic has existed for generations. At this point The royal families of both realms have known each other since childhood. There was talk before the fall of runic of both royal families having children betrothed to one another to ensure the allegiance for the foreseeable future, although at that time all their heirs in both realms were princesses of varying ages so the arrangement was never made.

The Zanevion book of spells was housed in Runic for years but when Gramorr begane his conquest of Ephedia, they arranged for it’s transfer to Xeris, along with a number of other dark magic artifacts. They did this as a way of making sure not all their dark magic eggs were in one basket so to speak. The exchange was covered up as a political discussion and celebration of the future being brighter than the current times.

~ Conifer ~

The people of Conifer believe in the balance of all magic - because of this they were willing to give up most of their land to the preservation of dark magic this is largely what allowed Runic to form. “Runicians” were once a subset of Coniferian people with a darker focus from the start, they took on the role of their own realm because the world needed more dark magic focused mages and a safe place for those mages to practice. Because of this history the realms are closely bonded and there are many agreements in place regarding the land runic exists on and the practices of the realm as a whole. Runic is one of few realms that actively acknowledges conifer's status as a realm, given Conifer's different governing system.

~ Ephedia ~

Runic's allegiance with the realm of Ephedia was necessary for them to continue to function. Similar to their relationship with Xeris, Runic required Ephedia’s approval to avoid conflict with a number of other realms for their research into dark magic. The realms also do a fair amount of trading being so close in proximity. Even with these things relations between Ephedia and Runic are lukewarm at best. There has always been a great deal of distrust between the realms and tension that comes with that. The realms maintained what was basically a polite business arrangement until Ephedia fell to Gramorr.

~ Calix ~

Frankly the realms don’t actually get along. There's a huge cultural clash between the warrior realm of Calix and the scholarly Runic, and the dark magic doesn’t help that. Fortunately both realms would rather not waste their energies fighting one another and have agreed to several peace treaties. Calix had also agreed to fight on Runic’s behalf should they be invaded, as a means of keeping the dark magic spell books and artifacts housed there from falling into the wrong hands. The realms may not like each other or see eye to eye but they can agree that dark magic is better off contained within a realm that understands it. They also do trade with each other because of proximity but for the most part these neighboring realms want to have as little to do with each other as possible.

~~~~<•>~~~~

Credit to Norvana for building the template

~~~~<•>~~~~

#long post #lolirock #lolirock oc #lolirock realm #magical kingdom #world building #god this is so fucking long

12 notes · View notes

wordsandrobots · 2 years ago

Text

IBO reference notes on . . . actual, proper original characters

Someone asked if I had a cheat-sheet for the OCs in Wishing on Space Hardware and I realised I did not, but it would be an extremely good thing to have. So here we are.

This covers the characters who are wholly original and not based (even inadvertently) on extras in the series itself – you can find those here instead. Though, saying that, I have included Gabriela here as well because the character model I used is a literal baby, so doesn’t really count.

I didn’t cover absolutely everyone, but all the main recurring OCs are covered plus a couple I’m just rather fond of.

One note – I'm writing these for the time period extending from The Ares Affair onward, which is P.D. 333, ten years on from the start of Iron-Blooded Orphans proper. Since my stories cover a lot of the intervening time, their ages will vary depending on which one you're reading.

Now for a spoiler-preventing cut in case you want to go into the the fics blind!

Civilians

Sri Chaifin

AKA Eugene's Awful Girlfriend (according to Yamagi)

Profession: Treasure hunter Archaeologist

At 27-28ish, she's older than most of Tekkadan would be at this point. Of Indonesian descent, with straight black hair worn in a bob-cut, palish skin, twinkling brown eyes (Eugene's description) and dimples. Generally quite mischievous, sly or sarcastic of expression. Pretty tall: she's on the edge of six foot, only a little shorter than Eugene. Slim and leggy. Usually dresses in practical, hard-wearing clothes; can be persuaded into a suit to schmooze with potential contacts but will not like it.

Primary distinguishing mark is the failed Alaya-Vijnana at the base of her neck. Caused by a loss of nano-machine cohesion rather than outright rejection, it's left her with a vestigial whisker – a series of hook-like protrusions mingling skin and metal – an extreme nerve damage. Reprogramming the nano-machines and infusing more restored her mobility, however, and she can use the not-quite-a-whisker as a machine interface albeit in a more limited sense than a functional A-V system.

Definitely not as mercenary and selfish as she behaves. Genuinely cares about the history she's dedicated her life to uncovering. Probably smart enough not to unleash killer robots on everybody.

Eldin 'Doc' Chaifin

Profession: Medical cyberneticist

In eir fifties, as tall as eir adopted daughter and twice as broad. Golden brown skin that's seen a lot of Martian weather. Gey dreadlocks worn wound up on eir head. Utterly unflappable. Projects an aura of not giving a shit, but has an excellent bedside manner, especially for kids who've had important limbs blown off.

Some skeletons in the closet, and not just the unethical experimentation on people who've had bad reactions to Alaya-Vijnana surgery. Widely trusted to give care to any who need it, background, affiliation or convictions be damned. Religiously observant: ey attend temple services weekly. Possibly started out in a wealthy family but if so, ey haven't had anything to do with them for years.

Principled, blunt and fair. Loves Sri deeply, which is reciprocated despite a lot of mutual exasperation. Accent tends vaguely Scottish. 'Chaifin' is a made up name, in grand Gundam tradition.

Victor Handa

Profession: Plumber, community organiser, workers' rights activist

One of the many people to lose family in the Dort Riots, Victor exemplifies the colony inhabitants' resilience in the face of the massacre. Taking it as a sign that things need to change drastically and hyper-aware of the backsliding by the Dort Company since the initial awarding of increased rights, he has fought for improvements ever since.

Stocky, of mixed Japanese and Moroccan heritage, and perpetually unable to grow a decent beard, he is a mainstay of efforts to build a sustainable alternative to Company control. While generally softly-spoken, he is driven by a great deal of righteous anger at the injustice of the world as it currently stands. Reliably found at the forefront of strikes and marches, and if not there, then doing work behind the scenes to make such collective action possible.

A staunch pacifist, he is sharply at odds with Otta, his adoptive sister. That said, he holds no ill-will towards her and appreciates the lengths she goes to in order to keep her activities away from his.

Ilyana Sevenstark

Profession: Technically a PA?

A short woman of Indian descent with light brown skin and black hair, which is usually held back with a silver clasp of plain design. Holds herself stiff and awkwardly. Often gives the impression that she'd prefer to be elsewhere, mostly because she would, especially if elsewhere involves less human interaction.

A child of misfortune. Having lost her parents in a debris zone, she was left in the care of one of their old shipmates, scraping a living on Jupiter Gamma. With only an ancient drone to call friend, she dreamed of striking it rich and escaping to a better life. Eventually taking destiny into her own hands, she snuck aboard the Saisei in search of a job with one of the big-time salvage crews, but only narrowly avoided serious harm at the hands of the worst Teiwaz has to offer. Following this, she was taken in by Nikolai Critchlow – one of the conglomerate's financial chiefs – and was set to work managing his collection of ancient relics.

While not the worst use for her eidetic memory and technical skill, she chafes at living as Critchlow's indentured assistant and still hopes for a big score that will set her free.

Rachida Phiri

Profession: Member of the African Union ruling council

A very tall and grand Nigerian lady, I introduced her with long black hair done in box braids but she certainly changes styles often. This is not personal vanity; she is an adroit politic operator and tailors her appearance precisely to whatever it is required for her position, be that following the latest trend or adhering to a long-standing tradition.

Charming, sociable and warm, her family has been in politics for decades. Has at least one uncle who was in a position of power during the Dort Riots and likely a whole heap more relatives among the movers and shakers of her bloc. Takes her position very seriously, being a 'good' councillor in the sense of always putting the African Union's interests first.

A consummate player of the game of geopolitics.

Oliver Tang

Profession: Martian Union representative for the Noachis Region; Minister for Science

A crusty, craggy gentleman. Middle-aged, extremely experienced with politics, cynical as all get-out but with a strain of optimism running through it that aligns well with Kudelia's aims for Mars. Not always strictly an ally, he has nevertheless acted as a mentor and advisor to her.

Oliver greatly admires Kudelia, considering her to be hope for the future of the system he's helping build. Has been part of the independence movement since at least the Noachis July Assembly and helped push for greater autonomy within his home region. Following the formation of the Union, he continues to represent that region's interests and has garnered a reputation of being stubborn, obstinate, but ultimately reasonable when it comes to matters of the public good.

One of the few fellow politicians who can sincerely be counted among Kudelia's friends.

The Turbines/Arca Defence Solutions

Claire Metz

Profession: Mobile suit pilot

Formerly a crewmember on one of the Turbines' many freighters, Claire transferred to work directly under Azee's command following the restructuring of the group after Naze's death. Initially a trainee pilot, she is coming into her own as an active combatant.

A slim black woman of about thirty-five, slightly above average height, she has a somewhat downcast personality but can be relied upon to keep her head in a crisis. A competitive streak means she has strong feelings about family board-game nights.

Gabriela Turbine

Profession: Wannabe mobile suit pilot

At sixteen, Gabriela is one of Naze's oldest children. A frizzy-haired ball of chaos hiding behind a very unconvincing sweet-and-innocent act, she wants nothing more than to follow in Amida's footsteps and fly mobile suits for a living. Puts most of her brothers to shame in terms of work-ethic, and probably a bit too brave for her own good.

The loss of her father and so much of her immediate family casts a shadow over her life. As much as she tries to ignore it, there's no denying a lot of her actions are driven by wanting to live up to those who are no longer around.

Barrett 'Barry' Turbine

Profession: Teenager

The splitting image of Naze, which is about where the resemblance stops. Absent-minded, non-confrontational and shy, Barry would far rather spend his time painting his nails (or indeed anyone else's) than on the family business. While he doesn't resent pitching in, it's clear he's far from a born spacer and even his mother, Ria, isn't sure there's a place for him in Teiwaz's transport divison.

One day he'll figure out what he wants to do with his life. Until then, it's probably best not to let him loose on any heavy machinery.

The Colonial Liberation Movement

Otta

Profession: Freedom fighter/terrorist (delete as applicable)

Otta would be unremarkable in appearance if she didn't shave her hair down to show off the constellation patterns tattooed on the sides of her head (these reflect stars visible from her home colony of Dort Four). Also the perpetual air of restrained violence sets her apart from the crowd.

Of medium height and build, with fairly dark brown skin (darker than Victor, at least) and a piercing stare, Otta is a blunt and forthright. Having lost her parents to police violence during the Dort Riots, she is dedicated to freeing the space colonies and prepared to use any means necessary to achieve that goal.

In the absence of the firepower necessary to challenge Earth directly, she seeks to chip away at Gjallarhorn's control of outer-space, wrecking both their reputation and public support with acts of terrorism. To this end, she's been building alliances with other groups, including a certain set of Martian radicals.

Saji Watts

Profession: Freedom fighter/terrorist (delete as applicable), mobile suit pilot

A scrawny space-rat who worked for a private military company on Mars before it suffered unexpected losses while running security on an archaeological dig, Saji was paid to infiltrate the Martian Union Military to facilitate a mobile suit theft. Though he didn't initially believe that strongly in the cause of the dissidents who hired him, he has come to enjoy fighting alongside them.

Serves as a backup combat pilot for Ride's group, using one of the Leopard-type 'suits that he helped steal. Cheerful and prone to bragging, he fits in well with the ex-Tekkadan members.

Joshua Riva

Profession: Freedom fighter/terrorist (delete as applicable), hacker

Small, slight, pretty, with blonde ringlets and big eyes, Joshua looks like he wouldn't say boo to a goose. Actually, he'd probably scream if confronted with live poultry of any kind. But his strengths show when he's behind a keyboard, hacking his way through cyber-security measures like there's no tomorrow.

Fell in with Otta several years ago, as a fellow orphan of the Riots and hater of the status quo. His skills have been invaluable to her cause, as have his connections to other like-minded hackers across the Earth-sphere.

Gjallarhorn

Almandi Iverson

Rank: Resource Major

Profession: Manipulative bastard Mobile suit engineer

Honestly could be mistaken for Yamagi if you squinted really hard while their hair was dyed blonde. But where Yamagi's looks trend more, um, Japanese pop star (seriously, have you seen his original concept art??), Iverson is overtly Nordic in appearance. Medium height, wavy hair (naturally brunet), narrow features, pale white skin, a sharp nose, thin mouth, ice-blue eyes. Also pin-point perfect make-up at all times: Iverson aims deliberately for androgyny, the better to meet expectations.

Age-wise, they're approaching their forties, if not already there. Physically, they are never an imposing presence but can project authority when required. Their rank of 'resource major' is a lesser one than that of a Regulatory Bureau major or an Inspection Bureau specialist major, but they are take care to be indispensable to their superiors, to even out the difference. Recklessly brave when it comes to things they're interested in.

A friendly veneer and a professional attitude cover a deeply cynical personality. Iverson cares only about fulfilling their own objectives and will do and say anything to get their way. When they don't, expect their temper to show, quick, nasty and vindictive.

Atticus Briar

Profession: Power systems engineer

A big, jolly man, Mediterranean in appearance – possibly Greek? A friendly presence and a people person, enthusiastically working his project teams as ridiculously hard as he works himself. Something of a prodigy in his youth. Continued down the pure research track while Iverson – his peer and someone he assumed to be his friend – went into project management.

Also, Briar is trans. I don't know if that came through in Of Obsessions and Erotemes, but I'm planning to make it explicit later. This is one of the reasons he thought he'd made a genuine connection with Iverson. Sadly, he wasn't politically savvy enough to realise they were just using him.

Was genuinely crushed by the betrayal, having believed he'd found a kindred spirit. There are too few of those in Gjallarhorn.

Pelle Torvalds

Rank: First Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

Looks like a retired Viking. Burly, bearded and gruff. Dirty-blonde hair turning iron-grey. Good belly laugh. Excellent drinking buddy. A very pleasant person to be around, if you're in the same kind of military culture.

Also has absolutely done lots of shady shit on behalf of Gjallarhorn, some of which haunts him to this day and some of which is shrugged off as just being part of the The Job. No, those categories do not map neatly on to the things he should, ethically speaking, feel bad about. Less tormented by his past than thoroughly tired of it. Chose to be a test pilot in order to try something new that wouldn't send him back into old patterns.

Cares a lot about his comrades, without being overly expressive about it.

Ahmed Fahim

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

A young Turkish man of medium height and indifferent build, who insists on wearing a cap at all times unless ordered not to. He frequently gives the impression of being bored by everything or actively asleep. Then he gets behind the controls of a mobile suit and turns into hell on legs.

Ahmed is one of the most naturally talented pilots in a generation. By rights he should be serving in the Arianrhod Fleet or another of the elite units. But his father was implicated as responsible for the shuttle crash that killed the old Lord Kujan (Iok's dad) and his family's honour and reputation were irrevocably tarnished. He was relegated to a regional support base until Iverson recruited him.

At this point, his ambitions don't extend far beyond doing what he's good at for as long as possible.

Mackenzie Croft

Rank: Captain

Profession: Test pilot

An English-descended bruiser, basically distaff-Dante? She's from Jupiter and I head-canon he is as well so . . . yeah. A big, muscly women with close-cropped red hair, square features, and a deep-seated brittleness to her personality. Her self-worth is bound up with having gotten a place in Gjallarhorn after being born out of an affair between an officer and a Jupiter 'commoner'. She was allowed in, like Ein, on the basis of the family connection and has struggled with prejudice and her own hot temper getting her into trouble.

Iversion pulled strings to get her assigned, making her captain of the test pilots because they assumed she'd be easy to control. Her fear over losing her privileged position makes her quick to turn on anyone who threatens the stability of the operation.

She should be more sympathetic than she is, but sadly she is more likely to lash out than understand she's being used against people she should be making common cause with. So it goes.

Lowri Lin

Rank: First Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

Short, compact, slightly sallow-featured, with mid-length black hair she keeps tied back, in her late thirties. The fundamental joke regarding the case of mistaken identity between her and Sri is that there is absolutely no way they could be confused for one another if you stood them side by side. Her name (which I realise I have previously been misspelling) is Welsh and so she probably is as well.

Rather quiet even before events caused her to become disillusioned with Gjallarhorn, she prefers to play with cards than engage in conversion. Bonding with the other Goibniu pilots has brought her a little out of her shell and allowed her to revisit her true passion in life: being a teacher. She tends to use unexpected tactics for mobile suit combat, which puts her ahead of the rest in mock-battles.

There is a lot going on under the surface. The displacement card-playing and Lin's quiet compliance with Iverson masks a growing resentment that is gradually blossoming into full-blown rebellion.

Kipchoge Ordsley

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Profession: Test pilot

A few years younger than Shino and looks younger still. His mother is Kenyan and his dad was African-American; has very dark skin, very gangly limbs, and generally resembles an enthusiastic scarecrow. Possessed of a sweet, open face on account of being a sweet, open kid. Keeps his hair cut short though never totally shaven off.

Eager to please, happy to be here, talks way too loud, way too much. Underneath that, though, he's acutely aware of his shortcomings as a member of Gjallarhorn and, increasingly, of Gjallarhorn's shortcomings. Has wanted to fly mobile suits since he was very little and is low-key willing to do anything to keep hold of the chance at doing so. His conscience and empathy put hard limits on that attitude, however (along with some other things hardly worth mentioning here).

The goof of the bunch before Shino came along. Then there were two goofs.

#Gundam Iron-blooded Orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #Tekketsu no Orphans #fanfic #AO3 fanfic #My fic #reference #notes #OCs #original characters

6 notes · View notes

celluloidandthecity · 2 years ago

Text

An Early History of Detective Fiction (Part 3)

Agatha Christie ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’

While it is true to say that Agatha Christie never approached her work from a feminist viewpoint, or indeed never seemed to ‘buy in’ to the feminist doctrine, her mark on the canon of detective fiction cannot be understated.

Again, the historical context of the release of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, and its subsequent reception can be considered as important to an understanding of the text, and the conventions of detective fiction in this era. The novel also constituted a remarkable break in form and convention, which I’ll look at in due course.

Between Collins and Christie, there is a tremendous leap forward both in time and the conventions of the genre. This was what Julian Symons calls ‘The First Golden Age[i]’, which was dominated, as in the late Victorian era, by the short story, and by male authors such as GK Chesterton and R Austin Freeman.

From this point we can chart the rise of the novel as opposed to dependence on the short story, which can be attributed, as with the Victorian sensation novels, with a rise in availability of literary works to the masses, and with the time available to read them. Says Symons

‘The emancipation of women, which took place during the [First World] War played a large part in the creation of a new structure in domestic life, particularly in Europe, through which women had more leisure, and many of them used it to read books’.[ii]

Christie’s first novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920) was published at just the right time to capitalise on the availability of this demographic. It was also the first novel to feature her Belgian detective Hercule Poirot. In his fastidiousness, he was neither a Dupin nor a Cuff. But Martin Priestman, in Crime Fiction: From Poe to the Present (2013), notes that ‘while traditional British attitudes could be relied on to regard a French accent as inherently absurd, the role of the gallant little Belgium in the recent Great War added a more positive element.’ [iii]

It can be considered that Christie’s career continued without much distinction until the appearance of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd in 1926. She was one of a group of detective story writers publishing books at this time, all based around the same conventions, notably Dorothy L Sayers with her Lord Peter Wimsey stories, and Anthony Berkeley with his Roger Sheringham tales.

The mystery writer and Catholic priest Ronald Knox even went so far as to devise a list of ‘ten detective story’ commandments in the early part of the twentieth century, which writers of detective fiction should follow as an informal framework to protect the ‘purity’ of the genre. Among these were the commands ‘no accident should ever help the detective’ and ‘The stupid friend of the detective, the Watson, must not conceal any thoughts which pass through his mind.’ With The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Agatha Christie tore straight through the fabric of this convention, and set a new standard for innovation in the genre.

The beauty of the moment of revelation in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is that it is entirely unexpected and really set a template for writers to be unconstrained in terms of structure, and of form. Readers up to this point felt familiar with the detective novel format – the country setting, the consulting detective, the locked room mystery, the conservativeness of the characters. The reader above all trusts the man of position, the doctor who is narrating our tale, and has earned his position of trust via his positioning as an agent of good in his profession. As Martin Priestman says

‘The ‘least-likely’ game took a step forward which, for some critics, threatened the whole basis of the genre by breaking one of its cardinal rules: that the narration itself should be free of suspicion.’[iv]

Christie is very careful – at no point does Dr Sheppard lie to the reader. The reader, with perhaps an overfamiliarity with detective story conventions, such as those laid out by Knox, are taken in completely.

In her introduction to the set text edition of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, the writer Laura Thompson states that Christie detractors, those seeking to diminish the powers of her innovation are missing the point entirely. It is her very simplicity that makes these moments so devastatingly impactful.

‘For they fail to grasp the essential point about Christie’s simplicity, which is that it is entirely intentional, and indeed as deceptive as the narrator of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

Dr Sheppard never outrightly lies in his narrative, but he leaves us certain trails of breadcrumbs as clues, which are the parts we instantly reread once we’ve learned the secret to see how the facts of the case passed us by completely, particularly this passage

‘The letter had been brought in at twenty minutes to nine when I left him [Ackroyd], the letter still unread.’[v]

The evidence is in plain sight, now we know the secret, but this was a work of such originality at the time that it would never have occurred to us to pursue the thread.

Conclusion

Although I stated at the beginning of this essay that I was going to have to be careful not to recite a full history of the development of the detective novel in the English language, it has been necessary to provide a decent amount of historical context to highlight the achievements of each writer I have explored. With Edgar Allen Poe, I had to look at the ways he had innovated, by comparing his achievements with what had gone before – including the examples of Oedipus the King and John Godwin’s Caleb Williams. The detective force was in its infancy when Poe was writing, and he deserves credit for working largely blind of what the force would be capable of and what the police would bring to the table in terms of skills and direction, which seemingly wasn’t much, judging by the way police investigation in The Murders in the Rue Morgue is floundering until Dupin involves himself in it

The bumbling official force is something that was a common thread from Poe, through the local inspector in The Moonstone, and the local police in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

An area where the texts differ is in their engagement with social issues of the day. Collins is by far the most socially engaged of the three writers I’ve explored. At least directly. He infuses The Moonstone with issues of Empire (represented by the three Brahmin), with an exploration of class difference (the storyline between Franklin Blake and the unrequited Rosanna Spearman) and even feminism in the strong-willed Rachel Verinder.

Indirectly though, it’s possible to read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd as a commentary of a ‘lost generation’ as a legacy of the First World War, as some critics have discussed. Though we can’t read Christie as a feminist, it doesn’t mean that she wasn’t conscious of issues of equality in the wider world.

It has been interesting to see how historical context has shaped three very different authors, and my exploring the texts in date order has allowed me to engage my reader in the narrative development of the genre, and how historical context has shaped and guided convention, form and structure, rather than being divorced from it as in the premise of the initial question. The narrative approach has been useful to me in presenting my ideas on how texts are conceived, and how they are brought to the market. All of the texts I have explored have benefitted from changes in society around the time of publishing – the expansion of lending libraries, and the socioeconomic factors that have enabled the dissemination of works of fiction on a mass scale to previously untapped markets – women readers and the working classes.

By engaging with the social issues and the historical context of each of the works – such as the Industrial Revolution and how that changed society and its reading habits - I’ve been able look in detail at how these details give extra life and meaning to the work, and how these changes feed into elements of form and context, and helped shaped the detective novel throughout history.

[i] Symons, p. 90

[ii] Symons, p. 116

[iii] Martin Priestman, Crime Fiction from Poe to the Present, Northcote House, 2013, p. 21

[iv] Priestman, p.21

[v] Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Harper Collins, 2013, p.44

Bibliography

Ackroyd P, Poe: A Life Cut Short, Vintage, (2009)

Christie P, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Harper Collins, (2013)

Collins W, The Moonstone, ed. by Francis O'Gorman, Oxford World’s Classics (2019)

Knight Stephen, Crime Fiction 1800-2000: Detection, Death, Diversity, Palgrave Macmillan, (2004)

Poe E.A, The Selected Writings of Edgar Allan Poe, ed by G.R Thompson, Norton Critical Editions, (2004)

Priestman M, Crime Fiction: From Poe to the Present, Northcote House Publishers, (second edn 2013)

Pykett L, The Sensation Novel: From The Woman in White to the Moonstone, Northcote House Publishers, (1994)

Symons J, Bloody Murder, Pan Books Ltd, (1994)

Towheed S, Reading Wilkie Collins ‘The Moonstone: Readership, Form & Context, p. 11, (2022)

Whalen T, Average Racism: Poe, Slavery, and the Wages of Literary Nationalism, from The Selected Writings of Edgar Allan Poe, ed by G.R Thompson, Norton Critical Editions, (2004) pp. 921 - 941

#literature #english literature #essay #critical thinking

7 notes · View notes

ramrage · 1 year ago

Note

thoughts on the new mwiii logo 🥺 i think its kinda ugly

Hi hi! First of all, thanks for sending me an ask! It made my heart feel warm! I haven’t seen the logo yet so we’ll be picking through this in real time, together. Also, my job has me thinking and writing about logos a good bit, so this should be fun! at least for me, idk, i tend to be super duper pedantic i am so sorry

Okay, I think i was able to find The Real (leaked) MWIII Logo which I shall post below. If I’m wrong, just disregard everything I say from here on out lol

So uh, hm. It’s hard to really assess everything with mfing PRICE in the background (i’ll let it slide because I love him), but I can’t say I love what I’m seeing (excluding price. love that.)

In my assessment, ofc, I can’t help but compare to the MWII so i’ll pop that below ~for comparison~

Yum. Good soup.

Now that we’ve collected our evidence, let’s talk some shit.

Color Change

Apparently this is the first time CoD has used red as its key accent color, which honestly surprises me because like, how on the nose is that? War, violence, blood, red—that sort of thing. Frankly, I don’t know how the green really came into play branding-wise (an argument can be made for it nodding to the branding for xbox and monster energy, both things that exude Gamer Bro energy), so I’m cool with that change. I think going from the limey gamer green to a complementary red is a fun little switcheroo

Logo Mark

So both logos are like. Typography-heavy. Extremely. In fact, the pretty-pretty bit of mwii’s logo is just a highlighted portion of the typography. This, however, is not a bad thing! I kinda dig it. The M and W are bold enough as it is, and using them as elements of the mark is concise and plays into that aggressive, angular look. The MWIII logo mark is similarly angular and “on brand” and i think it’s nifty that it echoes the vibes of the back ops 3 branding, but. As its shown in the picture above, I am not vibing. Why?

Arrangement

This is where the logo falls apart for me, and coincidentally, is where my Logo, Branding and Design Vocabulary falls apart, too. In layman’s terms (because that’s all I can manage), shit is arranged and sized in a way that can only be described as “fucked”. In the MWII logo, the focus is the MW mark—it’s big, it’s bold, it carries the important information, at least for those in the know. Like, people who are already in the gaming community will know what the MW stand for, so its not super necessary imho to make MODERN WARFARE the focal point in the way the MWIII logo does. The elements of the MWIII logo are warring for my attention. My eyes want to go for the the graphic element because it’s a pretty color, but they also want to go to MODERN WARFARE because its so damn big. No balance. No swag. There’s also waaay too much white space around the III graphic imo

Design Details

Both logos play with lil angular cuts, so that’s cute and on-brand. Nothing really blows my mind about either design, though they sufficiently embody “modern” and “warfare” in that they’re modern and aggressive. But holy fuck do I aggressively dislike the MWIII typeface. What the fuck is that R? Like what the fuck is that? Maybe I have no taste but that is just. Ugly. Like, it plays with the symmetry of M and W which is cute and I see how making the A overlap creates those angular cuts, but fuck. Naur. There is something just super unattractive about it to me.

#ask #mwiii #modern warfare iii #modern warfare 23 #an idiot rambling about branding and design and video games

1 note · View note

gargrizzled · 1 year ago

Note

⭐️ idk if you’re still doing this

Hi, thank you for this! I honestly consider myself open to any ask games I reblog anytime, so you're good!

I've been considering what section to choose because there's a lot I could talk about, but since Chapter 4 is one of my personal favorites I'd like to go more in depth with that!

!Spoilers for Chapter 4 of Blood Brothers!

The chapter title, It's the Nighttime That Flatters, are lyrics from the song Self Control by Laura Branigan.

Songs are the theme of the chapter titles in BB, either because they fit at least somewhat lyrically or to set the vibe I'm going for. This fits in both categories! I find it has a chill party vibe, which pairs with the purpose of the chapter: Gangrel introducing E&C to the nightlife to escape the stress they're under. A lot of the lyrics fit as well, including but not limited to:

You take my self, you take my self control

I, I live among the creatures of the night

I know the night is not as it would seem

Which leads us to the underlying mysteries of the chapter. One of the first things Christian notices as they enter The Empire is this:

(Side note: Christian's disturbed reaction gains later importance in Chapter 5!)

Weird that these are there right? Perhaps they're leftovers from the time the club was actually an apartment complex, as Gangrel had explained to the brothers. Or maybe - they're hints to a more sinister truth that E&C are none the wiser to yet.

The Empire has a bar, club, stage - and also a bunch of apartments that seem open for just about anyone to fulfill whatever sinful whims they have. Edge uses this to his advantage when he seeks out a quick hook up to indulge his sleazy, Rated R side. This takes a strange turn when the woman abruptly leaves, seemingly startled by something that happened in the room, and Edge feeling oddly drained. Even more questions go unanswered when he returns to Gangrel, who seems angry at something he sees on Edge's neck.

Stark chill in the room? Objects suddenly moving? Symptoms of anemia with a mark on your neck? 🤔

And it sure is a shame the moment pieces of this puzzle could've fallen into place comes when E&C will be too drunk to remember:

You know... without a little paranormal intervention... do you think Edge's one night stand could've ended with him getting to know the ghosts of the Empire in a closer way than anyone would want? Did that mysterious woman see something from the past she did not expect??

And what did Gangrel do to correct her mistake?

Other small tidbits to end on a lighter note!

The neon signs have a reference to the Quentin Tarantino vampire film of course, and a vampiric twist on the fun "Don't do coke in the bathroom"

The name of the club is based on a picture of the Brood in a section of a WWF magazine, "A Goth Night on the Town", where "Empire" is seen cut-off on a neon sign behind them.

Helen the bartender is an original character made on the fly, and may not so subtly be from the 1920s - 40s based on her mid-atlantic accent and slang such as "juice" and "bushwa". It also seems she's close friends with Gangrel. Maybe they go back?

#fic: Blood Brothers #VS BS

1 note · View note

kitmoas · 2 years ago

Text

dipped in ash, comes a bite

Summary: Whenever you doubt your place in the world, Wanda is always around to remind you.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: about 3.2k

Warnings: Dark SW!Wanda, Dark!Westview Wanda, Dark fic (allusions to murder, kidnapping, hostage vibes), Petplay, Magical Mind Control, Strap-on (r-recieving), Knot!!, Slight blood mention, degradation, breeding kink, stomach bulge, slighhhht dub con/noncon cause magic?

*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*

A/N: This is something that im very normal about and very casual about.

***Minors DNI*** ***18+***

Main Master list // Kitmoas | Occult

The warmth of the soft cotton of your small bed almost lures you back to sleep but you can hear the shower running, muffled humming makes you wiggle around excitedly. You knew exactly who was in the bathroom and they had been gone all morning, you even woke up to chilled sheets. You had dug around the bed, pushing your nose into their pillow, but nothing seemed to make you happy without them there. Rushing over to sit prettily outside the door, you finally take in your surroundings. Everything seems normal, and you let your butt wiggle some as you prepare yourself to attack your favorite purple dinosaur toy, but the moment your teeth clamp down on the stuffie your eyes land on a blood soaked towel.

Nosing at it curiously, the sticky liquid gets all over your cheek and you swat at the offending wetness helplessly smearing all over your face. You’re rolling around, pawing at your face trying to clean up, when a drop of the blood slips past your lips makes your mind freeze. The metallic taste shocks your system, and for the first time your eyes clear as you sit up properly. Your body and joints cracking as you stand slowly up on your feet for what feels like the first time in weeks.

You look down at your naked body, flinching at scattered marks all over it, and desperately start looking for something to cover up with. A large hoodie is the first thing you grab and you’re reaching for a pair of leggings when the bathroom door slams open, and a woman steps out. Her eyes are closed as she shuffles out, drying her hair with a fresh towel. You try your hardest to rack your brain as you push yourself farther into the dark corner, hoping the shadows can shield you. The person in front of you seems so familiar, a sense of comfort mixed with a confusing air of fear, but for some reason all of your memories and thoughts of her are fuzzy and blurred.

Lost in thought you missed the woman in front of you finally looking at you, the anger blazing red in her eyes. The only indication you missed before she rushes forward, hand outreached as she wraps her black tinted fingers around your throat. Her voice is sharp, filled with an accent that you cannot quite place, as she slams you against the wall. “What are you doing standing? You know this is forbidden.” Her open hand grips the hoodie you had slipped on, pulling on it hard enough for the seams to begin to tear.

Her eyes are burning into you making your brain swirl, and your breathing becomes labored under her intense gaze. Your mouth falls open, struggling to find any words to say which makes the woman smirk. “Come on little puppy, you know you want to be my good dog.” The words are spoken slowly, heavy with the foreign accent, making your body break out in goosebumps and your mind blurs as you struggle to understand the reaction you’re having.

You can’t help but let your eyes slip closed, trying to get your vision to focus, but that’s your biggest mistake as the woman in front of you takes the opportunity to let the mists of magic slowly make its way into your brain. Memories begin flooding your mind, static filled as though you are watching them on an old television, but you see your life with this woman. Wanda. Her smile and her hands on you. Wanda. Her scent and her voice, singing to you as you play with a ball. Wanda. Playing catch and belly rubs. Wanda. Curling around her legs while she works and her hand feeding you during dinner. Wanda. Rolling around in your favorite donut bed and spending hours digging in the garden. Wanda. The weight of your collar and the jingle of your name tag. Wanda. Wanda. Wanda. Wanda. Wanda.

The clicking of metal and warm leather wrapping around your neck makes your eyes snap open. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, your brain is yelling at you to speak but you can’t. It’s like your vocal chords have forgotten what words were, and your brain was entirely too fuzzy to try and fight it too much. Wanda raises her hand, making you flinch and cower backwards, but all she does is pet your head soothingly.

You’re leaning your entire body weight into her now, like you’re on autopilot, and before you know it you’re on the ground on your back stripped of the hoodie. She’s cooing over you, rubbing your belly. “There’s my good puppy!” The praise makes you warm inside and even though she scares you still, the grin she’s giving you as you squirm around makes your mind all foggy and tingly.

She’s smiling softly at you, pulling you up to lean against her torso. The potent smell of cherries fills your senses as you wiggle around, trying to get comfortable against her as she lets her arms wrap around you. Your head lulls against her shoulder as her smooth hands cup your breasts, pinching at your exposed nipples. It’s all so gentle, but something keeps you from falling into the darkness like she wants.

Her hand slips between your thighs and slides through the wet folds she finds there, lazy circles around the spot your body wants most. She’s playing with you, leaving you panting and whining for her as your thoughts begin to blur and the temptation of her touch overtakes everything. Your tongue flops out of your mouth as you breath heavily, warmth seeping into your stomach. Laced with fear and arousal your movements are tense and desperate as you fight against your instincts, but as the ginger’s fingertips dip into you nothing else matters.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You try your hardest to focus on the ground, letting muscle memory take over as you trot along with Wanda. Unsure how your body can handle your bare knees and hands, you try to look at your palms each time you lift them. It makes someone near you cackle and drags you out of your own world, whipping your head to look at them. The holder of your leash laughs goodheartedly along with them, “Oh you know dogs, so fascinated with the strangest of things! Clueless little creatures they are!”

Cocking your head up to glare at the woman tugging at you to move, the sun shines brightly in your eyes so it just comes off as a squint. How dare she say you’re clueless! Planting your hands firmly against the edge of the sidewalk, you jerk yourself back. A growl rumbles up your throat as you bare your teeth, but it doesn’t seem to even deter Wanda. The woman just chuckles down at you before snapping her fingers at you.

Scarlet phosphenes fill your vision and you find yourself robotically resuming your trot at the ginger’s heel. You start pulling towards a flower, bright yellow and flowing in the wind, and she lets you nose at it for a while. You’re going to chomp it when you’re yanked back, choking you slightly. Spinning to scowl at Wanda, you’re taken back when you see her in a conversation with a brunette. “Well Ags, why don’t we head back to my house since this little pup seems to be wanting to get into trouble?”

You perk up at this, maybe you’ll be able to find your voice while there are less distractions. Maybe you can get at least one neighbor to see the issue, to see the fear in your mind. All you needed to do was make sure Wanda was distracted enough at one point to get some alone time with this neighbor. -------------------------------------------------------------------

Exhaustion had taken over your body, head full of thoughts as the action of the day started wearing off. Even though you felt tired, your mind couldn’t stop racing. Spending time with Wanda was fun, being busy made it easy to forget what she was forcing you to do but when all of it was over with those thoughts came back. You can’t remember your life before Wanda, nor can you remember what you were. Human or pet, your identity seemed to be wiped even from the people around town.

You had a gut feeling about Wanda, something was off. Why did no one question your state of being? How did her neighbor Agnes not find it weird when Wanda sent you to your donut bed? Why was Wanda so insistent on being so strict in how others interacted with you?

Confusion was written across your face as you lay curled up at the foot of Wanda’s bed. She had let you crawl up some steps to lounge while she went and got movie snacks. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear her come into the room. She had set down the bowl of snacks and slipped onto the bed, letting her nails scratch up along your thighs.

She shushes you as you flinch, surprising yourself at your first instinct to snap your teeth in the direction of her hand. “My pretty puppy is thinking too much. Your tiny little brain is going to hurt if you keep having such big thoughts, little mutt.” Her free hand comes up to your forehead, brushing her knuckles softly against it. Her smile is soft, eyes twinkling as she watches you. Something about her is still off, but your body is reacting on its own.

Your jaw is slack as you nuzzle into her ink stained fingers, tongue flopping out a bit as your muscles start to relax in her presence. You want to answer her, deny her and insist that you’re smart but more crimson sparkles fill your vision and you let out a resounding yip. The emerald eyes shine at the noise, her nose scrunching as she continues to fawn over you. She’s whispering, a language you can’t even begin to understand, but it makes you squirm as you listen to her raspy tone. You can feel yourself leaking onto the sheets, and you whine quietly the longer she speaks at you.

Finally the hand on your thigh slides higher, brushing gently against your exposed pussy. “My perfect little pup you were so good all day, and I know you enjoyed it. Your cunt has been glistening all day, showing everyone just how much of a bitch in heat you are for me.” Her voice is quiet, calm, a complete contrast as she roughly rubs at your clit. Playing with the hardened nub sloppily, she stares at how slick you become with each swipe.

A noise, strangled and rough, tumbles from your lips as your hips wiggle away from the pressure; almost too much to bear. The hand that was trailing along your face moves quickly, aggressively gripping at your jaw—a loud snap as your teeth clash together. The pain makes you freeze, forcing you still as Wanda smiles down at you. Her eyes are bright, a scarily calm look across her face as she watches you struggle to adjust to the overwhelming feeling. “Oh my adorable little mutt, you can’t run from this.”

Her fingers drag the wetness across your slit, dipping the tips of her fingers into you. The more you struggle against her, the more she pushes against your jaw. “Look at you, dripping and just so puffy.” Her fingers poke at you, teasing, as she speaks to you. Finally sliding into you, you clench around her. “Practically sucking me in like a whore looking to be bred. So tight and it’s just two of my fingers.” Barely moving, she spreads her fingers inside you stretching you even more.

Wanda moves slowly, hand thrusting just enough to keep you needy and soft. It isn’t enough to shove you towards the edge, but enough to make you mewl–pathetic and helpless as your legs shake. The ginger is looking down at you, rubbing your stomach as she preps your body. “Such a good mutt, always taking whatever I give you so well. Your body knows who owns you and soon your mind will remember too.”

She stands, quick and suddenly, yanking her soaked digits from you. Ignoring your growls and pathetic whimpers, she walks out of your line of sight for only a second. When she slips back into the room, you can’t help the excited yips as you unsteadily try to get up on the bed. You’re wiggling as she climbs back onto the bed, hand landing on your hip to try and control the excited movement.

In your enthusiastic twisting, you back up directly onto the bulging strap that made you drool the moment she returned. You had no recollection of why you were so thrilled about seeing the muted red attached to the ginger, but you knew that you were in for something good. Grinding back as the smooth silicone rubs against you, you selfishly try to take whatever you can before she can stop you. Wanda doesn’t seem annoyed, a low chuckle escapes as she watches you. “Just Mommy’s little pup in heat” Her voice is muffled as she trails you finger down your spine.

When her soft hand reaches the curve of your ass she stops you, shushing you when you wail out in anguish. The tip of her cock pushes at your entrance, slipping in the wetness as she ruts into you. The pain starts out subtle as you stretch to take her but as she reaches down to rub at you clit, fingertips gently rolling it, you open up for her.

She doesn’t wait for you to get comfortable, for the stinging pain to subside, as she forces the rest of her cock into you. The tip by itself felt like it was tearing you but the pained howl that scratches up your throat is a clear indicator of the severe agony. “You sound so pretty when you hurt for me, mutt.” Wanda’s eyes are stuck to how your wetness mixes with the drops of blood, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tries to stop herself from pushing you too far.

You can’t feel your bones as you collapse onto the bed, the only thing keeping your backside up is the witch’s grip on you. Tears are soaking the pillow that your face fell into, the wet fabric dragging against your cheeks as she thrusts unrelentlessly into you. You want to scream, but you can’t help but love the feeling as she just uses you. It’s almost as though you aren’t even a living being.

Your thighs start shaking, the weight of Wanda hunched over you in a brutal race to push you over the edge. “Such a tight little cunt, so close to cumming but you can’t cum yet mutt. Not until you know my surprise for you.” You can’t pull your face out of the pillow, and it’s making it difficult to breathe but you feel the distinct vibrations of her red wisps along your thighs.

The streams of magic slip into you, matching the thrusts of Wanda and settle right against that soft spot in you. Squishing as it grows into a ball, rounding out as it continues to expand inside of you. Her hand tangles in your collar, jerking your face out of the soaked pillow–giving you a gulp of fresh air that stings your lungs.

Barely having time to settle on your elbows, hoping you can stay up, you paw pathetically at the sheets as you try to squirm away from the almost painful knot growing inside you. “Look down pup…” Her voice cuts off as she moans, filthy and pornagraphic, catching sight of the bulge prominent along your lower belly.

You’re pathetically moaning, a garbled mess of noises just tumbling from your throat. Your body finally caved to the witch’s actions and your mind entirely too foggy to fight anymore. “Mommy is going to breed you like the stupid bitch you are, and you’ll never have to worry about anything else again. So full of my cum that your pathetic brain won’t ever think about disobeying me.”

Unable to speak you just claw the soft sheets, nails scratching against the fabric as your pussy drips around the cock and magic. Wanda is no longer moving but the wispy knot is vibrating against the perfect spot inside you, making you incoherently wail. It’s the warm cum spilling into you that makes your vision go red, a static glitching ruby that blinds you as your orgasm surges through your body.

Even as you shake, your legs giving out as your back paws try to kick out trying to escape the overwhelming feeling that continues to grow inside you. The witch doesn’t care, the knot inside you growing until the bulge is quite prominent and it’s almost as if you can see the shiny red leaking through your skin. Panicked yips fill the air as it begins to feel like you would explode if she didn’t stop. Wanda doesn’t stop though, snickering at your flailing. The weak struggle does nothing to deter her, letting the heavy weight of her knot settle in you.

Whining pathetically you can’t even fight the ginger as she pulls out of you, though you immediately feel a devastating amount of emptiness as her knot disappears as well. Her giggle, as she watches her scarlet tinted cum slowly leak out of you, breaking up the sounds of you panting as you attempt to calm down. Heartbeat slamming against your ribcage as you dig your face under the pillow in front of you, the lights around you entirely too strong as all of your senses are overloaded. When the sheets below you suddenly become dry and soft, you plop your head out from hiding to curiously nose at the fresh scent. Squinting as you rub yourself in an attempt to make it seem more comfy, more homelike, a low growl tumbles from your throat when you realize that Wanda is no longer on the bed. Bleary eyes follow her as she moves around the room cleaning and humming as she goes, your body flopping miserably where she left you.

When she mentions a bath, you don’t even question the weak snarl that comes from your bared teeth. You’re far too exhausted to be made clean, and the closer she gets to you the more you dread the soapy water getting in your eyes and ears. “Pup, you have to get a bath. Mommy made you all stinky and dirty. Don’t you wanna be my clean pet?” Her hand is reaching out, scratching behind your ear cautiously as a noise rumbles in the back of your throat; almost like you aren’t quite sure how you feel.

Teeth snapping at her retreating ash dipped fingers should piss off the scarlet witch, but she can’t help but happily head to the bathroom. Her special cum worked, now all she needs to do is make sure no other agent’s blood makes its way into the home. This entire day has been exhausting and all because of a stupid rag. If only everyone else could see what a good dog you were.

670 notes · View notes

inkblot-inc · 2 years ago

Text

What We've Lost

Summary: The prequel to To Be Back In Step; Set a bit post-Endgame. Essentially the pot before it boils over, the pot boiling over, and then having to put more water in the pot to restart making the ramen, and then watching that water come to a boil like a hawk.

Pairing: Christine Palmer x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic)

Warning(s): Dark Themes; This is an angsty boi, but hey read TBBIS and you get a happy(?)..-let’s use a neutral word- decent ending for the Reader, The buildup to dark!reader, 616- Chrissy being a bit of a dumbass, Stephen is still a self-ingratiating dick (as per usual in this universe), R and Wanda being two sad bitches with overwhelming powers and trauma and grief….so besties. Also Language (because, again, this is me we’re talking about here-)

Notes: The patience you and I needed to have to get this here- when I tell you this shit has been in the works and sitting in my doc before it was even requested, before TBBIS was even finished, I mean that shit. (Mainly because I had so much more that I wanted to write here, TBBIS just wound up done quicker. To be fair to myself, this shit is just about QUADRUPLE the length of TBBIS-) But I also mean it when I say life has been kicking my ass like this is Mario Strikers T-T. but hey hey it’s here! so I hope y’all enjoy :3

Word Count: bud, you're looking at a little more than 8.3k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

“When I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost.”- Steve Rogers, Captain America

-----

You were so tired.

Too many people had to die for this “plan” to work. You watched as Tony Stark snapped his fingers to undo this entire mess while stewing on the fact that this shitshow could’ve and should’ve been avoided.

As much as you wanted to just be done with everything after the battle, you had to tend to your duties as Sorcerer Supreme.

You spent your first few weeks back making sure everything was functioning properly. It was probably the most important of the duties The Ancient One prepared you for. The people that were brought back from The Snap in less-than-ideal conditions were moved to safety, those that had loved ones were taken to them as well.

There was an incident in New Jersey that you were meant to look into and fix, but it was suddenly marked out of your jurisdiction as those below your station marked it as “Dealt With”. Trusting this, you had to use your astral form for the last bit of your maintenance. The conditions of the mystical and spiritual worlds needed to be accounted for and settled as they’d gone awry in your absence.

You’d think they have someone able to handle this while you were gone.

As soon as you were sure the time to be selfless was over, you headed out. Despite your fatigue from restoring balance and the heavy decline of adrenaline, you managed to have your sling ring finally take you to the one place you wanted to be. Looking up at your shared penthouse, your only concern was making sure Christine was okay and making sure this dusting mess didn’t take too much out of her, whether she was or wasn’t dusted herself didn’t matter to you.

The lock was stubborn as your key didn’t slide in anymore. Using some quick magic, you simply undid the lock yourself before making your way inside.

You almost thought you had the wrong house.

The walls were repainted, taking you back to the few swatches you remember Christine showing you. They complimented the ebony wood perfectly, just like she said they would.

It was everything else that made you raise an eyebrow.

The sleek metal accents clashed heavily with the questionable minimalist paintings, neither of which you remember being mentioned between the two of you, the big L-shaped couch sitting in the living room instead of the cozy pair of couches you’d gotten shortly after getting this place. These pieces were gaudier than you’d like, and they weren’t really Christine’s style either. One look at the pictures over the mantle of the newly finished fireplace told you why:

Strange.

Pictures of Christine and Stephen together, new pictures you’d never seen, sat in frames. Your eyes rested on the “centerpiece”.

Their wedding photo.

You immediately felt your heart drop, seemingly drilling a hole for the rapidly growing pit in your stomach. You sunk to your knees, eyes fixed on the five by seven.

An icy numb feeling took hold of your body. Coddled by despair and reassured by slowly building anguish.

Then you heard it. The soft click of the door shutting somewhere to your left. Your eyes clenched shut at the sound of those familiar light steps. She was still in her work clothes. She changed shifts.

You didn’t even flinch as you heard what must have been groceries abruptly fall to the ground. It wasn’t until you heard her voice, brimming with a series of emotions that your shoulders jumped involuntarily.

“Y/n?”

You slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see her looking right at you. Christine was still in her scrubs, light auburn hair tied back in her usual fashion. As you’d guessed, she’d just gotten off of work.

Taken out of her stupor, Christine rushed forward, joining you on the floor and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. you could only manage to loosely grasp her biceps as your eyes began to water.

Nothing truly registered as Chirstine continued to check you over, proclamations of relief and confusion tumbling out of her mouth as your gaze stayed on the resident of her fourth finger.

That’s not your ring.

Christine stopped fussing over your haggard appearance when you had yet to say a word to her. Bringing her hands to cup your face, your eyes were glassy as you appeared to look through her, hyper focused on the bit of cool metal that met your skin.

“Y/n, baby, talk to me.” Her honeyed words came out thoughtlessly before Christine took a pause, unsure if it was for your benefit or her own.

For you, the phrase brought anything but comfort, because it was tainted. It was scalding ice as your head all but tore from her grip.

“Let go- Let go of me!”

You skittered backward, your palms slipping slightly on the hardwood as you try to keep balance. You go to collect your thoughts when all that keeps running through your head is that this shouldn’t have happened.

This shouldn’t have happened to you.

Whenever something seems to be going right for you it always comes back to-

You both heard a familiar hiss and crackle as orange sparks form into a portal, one Stephen Strange stepping into the room. His steps stop short at seeing your figure in his home.

But you supposed that’s expected.

There’s a lull in the tense atmosphere as Stephen levels his gaze with yours. “Y/n, your presence is presently required at Kamar-Taj. If you’d come with me, please.”

Your eyes squint on reflex at the out-of-place request, taking you out of the vacuum you felt sucked into. While you certainly could understand why they would need to see you, you’d been gone for an especially long time no doubt, you didn’t want to go anywhere with Stephen Strange right now.

One look at the expression on your face was enough to let the sorcerer know you wouldn’t exactly be compliant. “Please, Y/n. It’s urgent.”

Rising to your feet, your jaw clenched as you got ready to deny him with eyes focused back onto Christine. You wanted to talk, to figure out what had happened on her end, and if she was okay, your own pain set aside.

While you were still gathering your bearings, it seemed that Stephen’s courtesy and patience only ran so far as you were brought into another portal he’d quickly created, bringing you to Kamar Taj himself.

Regaining your balance was easy, but the disdain you felt for your situation came tenfold as you were thrust back into a situation you had not wanted to deal with at the moment, nor did it matter nearly as much to you right now.

You weren’t slow. The love of your life had apparently moved on and married Stephen. While that reality broke you, Christine was still your friend. You were both adults, and you wanted to speak to her. Initial hurt and even anger aside, if she was happy now then… That’s all there was, wasn’t it? You don’t know that you could even deny her that, you’d just wish she would have been happy with you.

Like she could have been.

As you watched Stephen walk up the steps to the temple you merely watched him before speaking up, “Take me back.”

Stopping short, Stephen turned around to address you, “Again, the matter is urgent. It has to do with your title of Sorcerer Supreme.”

At this, you merely let out a sigh before begrudgingly moving forward to follow. “Let’s get this over with then.”

making your way into the main corridor, you observed that the other masters of the Mystic Arts were in attendance, seated and waiting. They all stood up to bow as you and Stephen came into view. You bowed toward everyone out of respect before moving to make your way further into the hall, only to be stopped by Wong.

“Well, are you going to let me through?”

Wong kept his hand firm on your shoulder keeping you in place, “You must remain in the center for the proceedings to commence.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why? I’m not being tried for a crime or misconduct, it’s a matter of discussing upkeep while I was away, correct?”

Wong merely remained silent before moving past you to take a seat of his own. “Stay here.” You school your face as everyone goes past you, feeling another brush pass your shoulder.

Once you made your way to the center as requested and everyone else was situated, Stephen spoke up. “We may now begin if everyone is ready.”

You actually raised your hand, though it was unnecessary seeing as though you were at the front of everyone’s vision. “Actually, I would like to know what this gathering is about specifically, seeing as though this is the first I’m hearing of it. Great confusion, as you can imagine.” Even now you couldn’t completely get rid of your snark brought on by annoyance of being left in the dark.

It was Sara who spoke up, “You have been assumed dead, lost to us, for five years, Dr. L/n, and while you have been away many things have had to change.” Her tone was light and even sympathetic. easing into this information seemed the best way in her mind.

One of the masters a few seats down spoke next, “Yes, and one of those things was finding someone to be suited with the title of Sorcerer Supreme in your sudden absence.” They were less subtle going forward and you weren’t sure if you appreciated that or not. Their hands remained folded in front of them as they continued. “Stephen Strange was appointed Sorcerer Supreme in your place. We are here today to give our verdict on who will maintain that title going forward.”

At this revelation, you closed your eyes, taking a second to let the words sink in. Again, logical choices that you could bring no fault to, but as you ran your thumb over the face of your pocket watch in your pants, something began to stink.

While you had been gone for the last half a decade, and you truthfully couldn’t have known what transpired between then and now, you knew one thing: none of this was supposed to happen…but you couldn’t specifically remember why. There was a sudden haziness to your memories that unsettled you.

You simply stood quiet as you listened to them deliberate. Though you had been gone and more than likely behind on mystical affairs, it wasn’t really your fault or intention that you’d been essentially dead for five years.

Some wanted to keep you on, being chosen by the late ancient one herself and wanting to honor that. You’d done especially well as Sorcerer Supreme. Others viewed this to be a moot point as the cycle of Sorcerer Supreme continues with or without you there, and it’d be tedious to catch you up to speed when they already had someone appointed that didn’t need such things. Your eyes were brought back to Stephen, who carefully kept his gaze from meeting yours.

“While we’ve honored and appreciated L/n’s work as the Sorcerer Supreme, the world has changed much while they were…away. The physical and the spiritual plaine have been set off kilter by The Snap five years ago. We need the Sorcerer Supreme to help guide that hand, and preferably one who has seen the damage firsthand.”

“While I agree, Y/n L/n was appointed Sorcerer Supreme by the Ancient One herself who taught them to lead this role, and it was of understanding that the current Sorcerer Supreme was to choose the next. While Dr. Strange’s work is also appreciated a great value, there are also those that see it as no longer necessary now that the rightfully appointed is back. Informing L/n of the current state of affairs is but a small price to pay in their unexpected disappearance.”

“Need we all be reminded how this “disappearance” occurred in the first place? I think we all are aware that it was also Y/n L/n’s duty as Sorcerer Supreme to protect the time stone, and somehow the Mad Titan, Thanos, acquired it without issue. Their incompetence led to not only their disappearance, but half of the population! It was Stephen Strange who tried to fit everything back together with some success before everyone was brought back. I believe the choice is obvious,”

“Well, Dr. Y/n L/n, how do you plead in this course of events?”

How do you plead?

This wasn’t a discussion or even a fair trial. This was more like an arraignment.

Why were things playing out this way, as if the very snap was your fault? You recall going to Titan and having the plan go smoothly, you could see Tony Stark and his spider-powered charge making headway getting the gauntlet off of Thanos’ hand. You even remember getting ready to subdue Peter Quill to stop the stupid decision you knew he was gearing up to make.

Everything was working until it wasn’t.

You’d somehow lost focus as you’d felt the shift that came with not having the time stone on your person. You lost the time stone. How did you lose the time stone?

Your eyes flitted to Stephen as you tried to get your mind to cooperate with your mouth as it felt almost like trying to wade through a pool of molasses. Something fucking stinks.

“While I cannot excuse the loss of the time stone, I can only assure you that my integrity as the Sorcerer Supreme, as merely a user of the Mystic Arts rather, that it will never happen again naturally. The circumstances were grave and cannot all be placed on one individual, but they occurred in part because of me, and I accept the consequences that come with oversight that happened on my part. I would-”

Someone's trying to speak through you.

You stopped to take a deep breath to refocus and gain control. “.... I would also like to bring to mind that the rest of my actions during my time as Sorcerer Supreme go unnamed and uncredited while they are overshadowed by this singular lapse in judgment. Even before knowing the state of things at present, ensuring the safety and stability of our world was the first thing I took to after the battle with Thanos was over. Several issues that were left to fester, in my absence I assume, were handled efficiently. I assure you my absence has not hindered my ability on that front. I simply wish to continue my role as the Sorcerer Supreme in whatever form that takes and bring things to rights now that I’m present. That is all I can ask of any of you.”

While you were able to cut whatever ventriloquist act was going on short, you couldn’t double back now. But you did offer some sort of truth by the end. You see Stephen’s eye twitch out of the corner of your eye. Him with a few other masters were unsettled with the latter half of your statement while others seemed to genuinely think this over. With your statement given, you merely had to wait while the rest of the Mystic Arts users decided. Your head was only somewhat clearer than it had been by the time you got there, and the more it cleared up, the angrier you got.

But even that felt subdued while you were in the temple.

‘What the actual fuck is going on?’

As that question occurred to you, the door to the main corridor was opened by none other than Stephen Strange, and you were almost certain that he was a key player in your plight.

Stephen simply stepped to the side as he held the door open for you to pass through, “We’ve reached a verdict.”

You heaved one more sigh as you made your way back to the main room. By now the outcome was already a foregone conclusion, and maybe that’s why you couldn’t be bothered to fight harder. Everything seemed to cast you in dim lighting, and what were you to do about it?

Why couldn’t you fight harder?

You just walked to the center of the room awaiting the words you knew were coming.

“Everyone that is present, as Masters of the Mystic Arts, have come to the decision that Stephen Strange will fulfill the role of Sorcerer Supreme. Y/n L/n, you, still recognized as a fellow Master of the Mystic Arts and gifted sorcerer, are implored to teach the next of us here at Kamar Taj to be of use-” The rest of whatever shpiel was white noise as you took in their words.

Be of use…

Is that all they cared about?

Surely you weren’t the only one that knew something didn’t sit right. While you’d been made to wait for hours as the council went back and forth their view on the entire matter made it all feel like padded time. Was no one considering the fact that this entire "trial" felt so fucking empty? Why couldn’t you put it into words.

You know things weren’t supposed to be this way.

The green glow by your hip drew your attention to the now empty Eye of Agamotto on your belt. Its glow subtlety made its way up to your temples and passed through your ears with a new sense of clarity. Vague confusion became clear anger as you realized your words were purposefully getting caught in your throat, having to listen to an incomplete verdict. Not being allowed to speak at your own sentencing, for lack of a better term, was probably just what they wanted anyhow.

You stood stock still with a mask of neutrality as you waited for this meeting to be over. They need nothing else from you; You don’t have the time stone anymore, and the third Eye of Agamotto chose you. Its scope of power was outside any of their purview anyways, today only served to prove that.

As the meeting wrapped soon after, everyone began to filter out of the main room to leave, you being one of the last.

You felt a small pat on your shoulder.

“Hang in there, Y/n.”

Looking at the back of Stephen’s head as he made his way out, you didn’t hesitate to kick him in the back. There was only one thing left on your mind as that anger you felt bubbling up came back with a vengeance. “This was all you!”

Stephen, now on the ground, turned onto his side to look up at you, his gaze was almost a smug indifference that made you want to tear it right off of his face. “Look, Y/n, if this is about Christine, it was her choice. That had nothing to do-”

“Don’t try and feed me that bullshit, Strange! You preyed on her vulnerability at my ‘supposed’ death, you piece of shit!” You slammed another bout of kicks into his exposed side as the situation became all too clear. “You gave Thanos the fucking time stone! You got rid of half the goddamn planet, you got rid of me, so you could finally get what you so badly wanted, Stephen! You couldn’t leave well enough alone! You couldn’t stand that someone was naturally beating you at life that you had to go and royally fuck it over so that you, Dr. Stephen Strange, can come out on top!”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way Y/n, even if you have sich a distorted memory of those events. But what’s done is done. We can’t change the past, but we can continue to move forward in the present. I hope that you are able to do that with time, L/n.” The manufactured sympathy wasn’t lost on you. The calm and placating voice he used to mock you seemed to echo as he finally left the main room with an air of superiority.

Watching the doors come together leaving you by yourself, you let out a scream of frustration as your head rested in your hands. You took a look around the hall. You felt your emotions wash over you as the events from the past few days crashed on top of you and knocked you down. The anguish, the confusion, the anger, the sadness. All of it amounts to this foreign, grating feeling of helplessness.

Your eyes stayed to the floor as you mulled over what you would do next, and one thing became clear: You wouldn’t stay here.

You flexed your fingers at your sides as you began to think quick on your feet, they wouldn’t leave you alone for long if they were smart.

Making a small formation with your hands, two portals appeared in a ray of green sparks, one significantly smaller than the other. Taking off your sling ring, you tossed it into the smaller portal leading to a pocket dimension. Facing the bigger portal, you didn’t hesitate to walk through.

You were thrust into the new environs of Romania, close to the Carpathian Mountains.

Looking up, you saw the sun just starting its descent as you looked for any people around. Finding none, you released a quick sigh of relief. Heading toward the mountains to prepare for nightfall, you felt an odd spike of energy.

Magic specifically.

It wasn’t a signature that you recognized all too well, so you weighed your chances. Worst case scenario, they’ll be associated with any of the people you left in Kamar Taj which seems unlikely. They could attack you too, but you could handle them quick enough if you had to. Best case: You get some supplies from a random magic user and go about your way. With your mind made up, you made your way closer to the source of the magic signature.

-----

By the time the sky had gone from peachy orange to plum purple, you’d reached an isolated cabin. Your footfalls quiet, you made sure to conceal your own signature as you made it to the door. Knocking lightly on it a good few times, you stood waiting for someone to answer. No reason not to put your best foot forward.

Eventually, you heard movement from inside before the door slowly opened up revealing someone you didn’t think you’d be seeing anytime soon. “Ms. Maximoff?”

Her own eyebrows furrowed as she took in who was standing in front of her. “Y/n? Y/n L/n?”

Slowly nodding, you looked behind you needlessly to see if there was anyone else behind you before focusing back on her. “Yes, can I come in?”

Wanda also looked out her door to see if there was anyone with you before stepping aside to let you in. “Please.”

Looking around as you walked through, you breathed some warmth into your hands coming from outside. Wanda directed you to a couch as she only stared after you for a second, still confused and even cautious. You hadn’t seen each other since the battle with Thanos as you found yourselves fighting alongside each other.

Wanda idly stoked the fire in the hearth with the poker while her eyes were far away, her mind running quickly in a moment of anxiety. Were you here to issue your own punishment to her for what she did in Westview? Would she be going to a high security prison again? She would have to after all that she’s done. No one would be satisfied with less.

Wanda thought she’d gone far enough away to be left alone and for her to rid the public of her presence, lest they think ill of her owning a house on a row-home corner. When Wanda made her cabin here, she figured it was perfect. She was as close as she could be to home with Sokovia having been blown to bits years ago.

You watched as Wanda Eventually settled in her own seat on the couch, leveling you with her own gaze. “You’ll have to forgive me for the sudden appearance, Ms. Maximoff. I didn’t even know that I’d wind up here really,”

Wanda merely gave a bit of a forced laugh through her nose as she used a waiting tea kettle to refill her cup while red wisps brought another cup out presumably from her kitchen area. “Only if you forgive the lack of hospitality I’ve been able to prepare.”

You let the corner of your lips pull upward as you took the now filled cup of tea, cradling it for more heat to run through your cold hands. “Done.”

-----

There was a common ground between the two of you: You had no one else. You found out that Wanda was behind the incident in Westview, New Jersey as well as why the incident occurred in the first place. Apparently “dealt with” meant they just lost her when she went MIA from the scene. Wanda Maximoff had your sympathies beforehand, but it feels like the world is especially cruel to a select few.

After you explained what had happened in your life recently, Wanda felt a similar bout of sympathy, and she allowed you to stay at her cabin. Her hesitation at you being there all but went away the more the two of you began to talk.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Wanda had come to make your own piece of peace with each other in this cabin and an easy friendship was born between the two of you. Willfully living life without using your powers substantially was a much-needed respite for the both of you. It almost helped remind the both of you that you were human first.

You'd taken to putting together a farm and orchard. It was tiring work and successfully growing them was even more so, but it felt just as rewarding. You eventually used your own sorcery to keep livestock in their designated area to graze in while also helping tutor Wanda disguise and eventually remove her own magic signature so that neither she nor the cabin would be found by others.

You were content...for the most part.

The longer you stayed in the cabin, the more your mind filled with thoughts and memories of Christine.

This newfound experience of domestic bliss you had with Wanda was welcome but mocking at the same time. Taunting you of all the things you could have done with Christine; the simpler things that were few and far between.

~~~

Giving the pot a final stir, you cut off the heat of the stove before feeling two arms wrap loosely around your waist. You give a brief laugh through your nose before looking over your shoulder to catch the eye of the auburn-haired woman. “Yes, can I help you, Chrissy?”

Christine gave you a brief squeeze, “That depends: Are you still holding the kitchen on lockdown?”

You gave her an exaggerated noise of agitation, “I’m simply trying to make us a perfect dinner. If you want half ass we can still order out-”

Christine placed a few quick kisses on your cheek, “Now I never said that. Spaghetti’s never smelt so good, Y/n/n.”

You let out a small thank you with a grumble as Christine moved away to grab plates and utensils for the both of you.

It was the end of your first week in the new house after unpacking. The both of you were still getting used to the new layout and where everything was when you decided to make dinner for the two of you.

Christine made sure to show you her appreciation later that night...

~~~

It was seven months after you’d started staying With Wanda that you’d discussed actually going into the local market to get other supplies and groceries for the cabin. For you, it was all a part of doing things without jumping to using your powers like you had been. Initially, anyway.

There was a darkness that you couldn’t seem to slip out of while you were here, being reminded of you and Christine together and happy, only to remember that she was married and happy to Stephen Strange on the opposite end of the planet.

You just wanted to have a reason to step out and clear your head now and again. You chocked it up to going stir crazy.

Wanda was immediately against this to begin with, not wanting to risk a single appearance in the public.

You set down the drying cloth on the counter as you put the last clean dish away, having just ate dinner together. “I just think it’s something we can consider at this point. Get into a new sense of normalcy, you know?” You kept your eyes trained on the empty sink as you heard Wanda's movements become stunted.

Wanda’s relaxed mood was almost immediately choked out by your proposition, “No. Absolutely not.”

You could feel her want to leave both the room and the conversation, but you pushed it forward still. “Wanda, hear me out please,” You knew she would react this way, practically expected it, and kept a steady stance.

Wanda stared across the kitchen island at you with her head tilted, her palms resting flat on the surface of the island. “We’re not doing this, Y/n and We’ve talked about this before. I’m not giving anyone any kind of fuel to have the public hate me any more than they already do. End of discussion.”

You kept your voice level as you too leaned on the granite top. “You don’t even have to come with me, Wands. At the very least I want to do this for myself.”

“No, you’re not going either! You have people actively looking for you too, Y/n!”

“They won’t find me out here, you know what I’m capable of Wanda. I’m just asking you to trust me.”

“I do trust you-- I just-” She releases an unexpectedly shaky breath as she leans back on the cool metal of the fridge behind her. Her eyes shut as her arms cross tightly over her chest as if she’s hugging herself.

You come around to stand directly in front of the redhead with your hands resting on her shoulders. You watch as she takes a couple of breaths before tilting her head downward, looking at the ground.

“You are my best friend Y/n, my only friend that's still around. I trust you more than I have most people in my life. It’s everyone else that I don’t trust-- that I…I can’t trust. Not right now. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

You bring Wanda into an embrace as your thumb runs up and down on her back in a calming gesture.

And you didn’t bring it up again.

You understand Wanda’s worry- Wanda’s fear, and it wasn’t necessarily unfounded. Wanda has quite literally lost everything trying to trust in others, and for her, the safest hands her loved ones can be are her own. That’s not something you can just will away. Wanda would have to come around to the idea on her own, and that was something you were willing to forget about.

—----------

A few more months went by, and the leaves began to fall again. You were behind the cabin making your rounds in the pasture. Currently wheeling out the chicken feed, you slowed your pace when you saw Wanda make her way out of the cabin.

You could tell Wanda was a bit uneasy as she made her way up to you. “Everything alright, Wanda?” Her movements were a bit jerky, hesitant as she nodded briefly.

Wanda didn’t know how to go about the conversation she wanted to start, “...We have an excess from the harvest again, don’t we?” It wasn’t a surprise or even a real question; there was always excess.

You carefully set the wheelbarrow off to the side, “Yeah. I still have to place all the extra in another pocket dimension like usual. I’ll probably do that after I finish up here,”

“You aren’t worried it’s going to waste, wherever you put them?”

“Mm, sometimes. I try and remember to cast preservation protectants on everything before it goes in. No big deal.”

Wanda knew how you felt about things as they were now. You trusted her enough to not have your mental barrier fortified all the time.

Wanda knew this sort of monotonous routine was eating away at you.

You thought about Christine Palmer more than you cared to admit out loud. What you'd had together was something you didn’t think you’d ever find again, and it was almost cruel how you were trapped with those memories.

A sort of malice began to build up inside, and it upset Wanda to see you that way. Even if you hardly showed it.

This cabin was supposed to be a peaceful place where you both found solace, and yet, that was getting corrupted for you more and more.

Wanda looked in the direction of the small barn, “Maybe you could see if the locals would take them. At the markets, I mean.” Maybe more room to stretch your legs or even new scenery would help you.

Your eyes widened at Wanda’s idea, “Are you sure, Wands? That’s not necessary, really-”

Turning to rest a hand on your forearm, Wanda stopped you from rambling on. “I’m sure, Y/n. A new sense of normalcy, remember? That’s all this is.”

It took a bit more reassurance from Wanda before you conceded and grabbed a heavier coat while she got a few crates together for you to take along with you to the open market.

Wanda double checked everything for you before sending you on your way, telling you to at least be home by five.

Watching you head off into the sea of trees, Wanda cradles her cup of tea closer to herself, resisting the urge to call you back as soon as she couldn't see you anymore.

Wanda had no desire to visit other people, but that didn’t mean she’d deprive you of the opportunity. She was also worried for your mental state that seemed to get worse under the surface. You’d been nothing but understanding of her, offering to help her through her own plights. Wanda could definitely do the same for you on this front, especially when all you seemed to want was space from familiar surroundings. Even if that small want was enough to scare her.

And even further; the thought that her fear wasn’t misplaced.

—-------------------

You move around people with practiced ease as you make your way through the smaller marketplace, it being more full than usual due to the upcoming holidays. Even with all the customers around, you made your way to the back of a specific stall.

You tried not to spend too much time here any other week, but you were cutting it a bit close today with all the pedestrian traffic.

Reaching your destination, you went around the back of Octav’s shop. This was the most reliable vendor you found in the marketplace to drop off your goods. Octav was a plump old man who never asked too many questions and ran his shop like a well-oiled machine.

You set the two full crates down, “Octav, you and the wife doin’ alright?” You made small talk as you passed the man your crates over the counter.

“We’re good. Our daughter and her family are coming down in a few weeks for holidays.” He would unload your goods and then refill them with his own wares for you to take back to the cabin.

“Well, I know there are a few chickens in there, a lot of produce too. You should really show out to the family; Have a big dinner and all that.”

Octav passed the crates back to you with a small smile and a nod. “My Vena will like that, she likes cooking.” He was never much of a talker.

You give a quick nod back, “Well I’m off, have a good one Octav. Be seeing you,”

“Wait”

You turn your head to look back at the older man, a brow raised in confusion. He gestures for you to come closer with a small hand movement. quickly checking around you, you get closer to his market stall.

Octav places a hand on your shoulder, “There was a man looking for you the other day,” he spoke in a lower voice, his English was highly accented and slightly choppy.

Your eyes narrowed at the counter as you took in what the vendor said. In a way you should’ve expected this. You didn’t notice yourself getting sloppy, but who’s to say Strange didn’t have people checking every crevice they could find.

“What’d they look like?”

“He wore an odd getup with a big red cape. gray hair on the sides with a goatee, pretty tall. Very American.” Stange. Of fucking course.

“He was alone, asked everyone if we’d seen someone who looked enough like you that I just let him pass on through. He made a big stink of things too.”

You let out a sigh as you rubbed the space between your eyebrows trying to relieve the headache that was bound to start. Looking back up at Octav, you set the two crates on the ground. You kept your hand out of view as you made a quick portal to your pocket dimension, the crates easily dropping into it.

You adjusted the cap on your head to sit a bit lower, throwing the hood of your jacket up as well. The last thing you need to do is panic or draw attention to yourself. Blend in and get to safety first.

Octav merely watched you with a glint of concern in his eyes, “Are you in trouble with that man, Y/n?”

You stopped rooting through your pocket for a second, “Something like that- hey look. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be alright but listen, you get home safe Octavy, it’s just starting to get dark out here. Give Vena and the family a hug for me will ya? I gotta get goin’.” You made sure to thicken your Romanian pronunciation as you finally got your pocket watch out to check the time. 5:27. You’re already late getting back.

Turning to head out of the market, the last thing you catch the old man murmur was a quick “be safe” before you made your way to the edge of the market square.

You had to think this through. If Strange was roaming around this area looking for you, it would only be a matter of time before he found Wanda and the cabin, magic signature or not. He could be thorough like that. Stephen Strange was stupid, but he wasn’t dumb. If Strange found Wanda he more than likely would take her in to punish her further for the Westview incident, and you simply weren’t willing to let that happen to your friend.

Stephen Strange was here to get you, and he would get only you.

There wasn’t a way to avoid being found without raising further suspicion in the area with a zero-energy signature area of land that simply wasn’t there before. There was no way out of this.

You could almost feel the presence following you before you stopped in a clearing. “Don’t waste my time, Strange. Your cloaking has always been shit.” You looked over your shoulder as you watched Stephen appear a ways away. His eyes narrowed on yours with a clenched jaw. “What a year will do to you, those frown lines are much deeper than they were before.”

You were making your way to the smaller wooded area, not too far from the market entrance, where you cloaked a Waystone to get back to the cabin to alert Wanda when you stopped short of uncovering it...

You dug around in your pocket and grasped a small roll of paper you kept in your coat in case of emergency. Rolling it between your thumb and middle fingers, you inconspicuously flicked the paper at the travel-point instead before you changed course walking away from the Waystone and further into the woods. He’s already here. Wanda needs to get clear and quickly.

His glare was unwavering, “All the stress from work if I had to guess.”

You let out an empty hum as you faced forward again. You heard him take a few steps toward you. “I’m not going back, Strange. I feel like you know that.” You could feel your powers surging from within, ready to defend yourself.

Stephen let out an exasperated breath as his own powers were licking at his palms. “Can we skip the dialogue and quit the running Y/n? Seems it’s all you ever do these days.”

A smile crept over your face, but there was no warmth behind it as you turned to face the ‘Sorcerer Supreme’. “Well, here I am. Not running.”

There was a stillness in the air as you both anticipated the other striking. When you saw Strange blink was when you struck him with your own magic. There was no wind up required as your Eye of Agamotto, still fastened to your hip, crackled to life. Green lightning hit him hard and fast, knocking the sorcerer backward. You hit him with three more in quick succession as you carefully angled yourself further and further away from the cabin.

It had to only be you.

Strange began to retaliate with his own strikes to try and gain the upper hand. It wasn’t fully effective, the attacks only pushing you back bit by bit…Like he was holding back….

This almost felt like a-

You were blindsided as another portal appeared by your head as an unexpected Wong came flying out and leveled you with a full force kick to the temple, knocking you out instantly.

As you slumped on the ground, Stephen came to stand above you, his face twisted in a grimace before he looked at Wong. “That could have killed them, you know?” He was uneasy, but there wasn’t any real heat behind his words.

Wong also looked down at your limp form, “It was the quickest way. They would have gotten away otherwise.” He quickly used his sling ring to make a portal to Kamar Taj, Strange following after him.

Stephen turned to face your body and used his own sorcery to lift and bring you through the portal before it closed.

With nothing but a note, Wanda was left safe and sound...and alone once again.

~~~

You and Christine laid together in bed, you on your stomach and Christine on her back. Her nails running up and down your back mindlessly as you both just talked softly and enjoyed each other’s company.

“These moments with you are the ones that I love the most.”

grabbing her free hand, you intertwined your fingers together before kissing them. “Me too,”

You felt the pace of Christine’s nails slow down, “It’s a shame we won’t be able to have any more of them.”

Your brows furrowed before turning to face Christine as she still has that same small smile on her face. “What’re you talking about?”

Christine’s face only showed confusion at your response, “I’m with Stephen now. We won’t have any of this anymore. It would be me and him”

“You and Stephen?”

“Yeah, he and I are married now. Don’t you remember?”

Abruptly the scene began to change as the walls around you became darker, the bed became bigger. You didn’t recognize any of the pictures hanging on the walls anymore.

You could feel your world beginning to fall in on itself as your heart rate hit an uptick. “Wait, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! We were- I was!-” there were so many things that you wanted to say- needed to say.

Christine had a sympathetic smile on her face now, everything just felt cold. “I know, Y/n/n, but-”

The doorknob to your shared bedroom began to turn, and through the open door came the last person you ever wanted to see.

“Oh, back already, honey?” Something twisted in your chest when you saw Christine’s face light up when her eyes rested on Stephen Strange.

His answering smile was coy, and one you wanted to erase from his face forever. “I just went to light the fireplace; it wasn’t that long.”

All you felt was cold. Why was it so fucking cold?

~~~

Suddenly it was as if you were having an out of body experience, moving further and further away from Christine. A bystander in your own nightmare, you couldn’t look away nor would your eyes shut as Christine brought Stephen in for a deep kiss while maintaining eye contact with you. You were made to watch as Stephen Strange ruined Christine in every way for you. You could almost feel the warmth she had for you dissipating as she grew further and further away from you until she was gone.

Ah... That's why you felt so cold.

You woke up in a cell of sorts. Looking around, you recognized the artifacts around the larger room: You were under the main temple of Kamar Taj.

The cell was reinforced with magic that you couldn’t break through, not for lack of trying. Your Eye of Agamotto was still on your person, not that anyone else could remove it anyhow. The cell would almost fight back as it threw your own magic at you. Soon enough, you heard the familiar hiss of a portal appearing as you watched Stephen Strange step through.

Your face immediately set into a scowl as you watched him come closer. “What do you even want with me now, Strange? You’re already the Sorcerer Supreme.”

Stephen’s face was kept neutral as he stood in front of your cell. “The knowledge of the Sorcerer Supreme is unique in that there are things only they know. They pass this knowledge onto the next Sorcerer Supreme before they die and so on. You’ve caused a bit of a hiccup in this cycle,”

Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, “I would say sorry for living, but I fear that it wouldn’t be giving a genuine apology.”

Stephen continued like you hadn’t spoken. “We’ve all come to the conclusion that since you hold sacred knowledge that you can’t just be left to your own devices, as recent developments would have you placed as a risk to the natural and mystic world. All of us at Kamar Taj have discussed how to proceed with your presence here going forward. One option was to simply fix the cycle and have you die-”

“Sounds lovely, honestly,”

“-The other was to have you live out your days here at Kamar Taj and put your knowledge as former Sorcerer Supreme to good use and teach and assist the other students here in the mystic arts as, regrettably, you know things that even I do not. You have proven too volatile to be left to yourself, so you will stay here. This is the best-case scenario that I could persuade the other masters to compromise on.”

“Mmm…Dying still sounds pretty compelling,”

You could tell Stephen was fed up with you, “Would you just listen?! This isn’t a joke Y/n-”

You abruptly stood up, marching straight up to the barrier separating you and Strange. “No, it IS! It honestly is! You cannot be serious right now. This offer I’m meant to leap at because I get to live! I get to live on fucking house arrest in a place I hardly recognize! I get to clean up more messes of ingrates and tutor you on how to do your job in a position that you shouldn’t even hold! Do not come and propose this ‘ideal compromise’ to me as if you did not orchestrate the fucking disintegration of my entire life! Every single piece of goddamn happiness was ripped away from me! By YOU!”

You throw your hands in the air, green sparks fly all around your cell as you unceremoniously fall back onto the ground. Stephen says nothing as he looks at you with a stare that almost reads as regret before it’s gone.

You stare blankly at the ceiling, “Go to hell and stay there, Stephen Strange.”

Without another word, Stephen leaves the room.

If you were lucky, they would just put you out of your misery and be done with it.

But of course you weren’t.

You were kept alive and in your cell like a trapped animal.

You almost felt like the magic mirror or the genie in a bottle. Others came down to see you in latch ditch efforts to fix problems beyond their ability, Stephen more often than not was the one to see you.

You didn’t teach anyone, and maybe that was for the better. You’d been relegated to the scary monster in the basement that others were warned to stay away from. Any sane or rational person would ask why, it wasn’t like you were a criminal. All it did was isolate you further.

And with that isolation came anger.

Came resentment.

You committed no crime and here you were. Made to be a prisoner of life when life had nothing left to offer you. It was like some sick joke. Too dangerous to live but still too valuable to be killed outright.

The Sorcerer Supreme was recently called away with a disturbance in New York, so you hadn’t seen him much. Maybe that was to his own benefit.

In your time alone you were almost haunted by the happy memories that you had, and your mind kept coming back to Christine. How content both of you were with each other until Stephen Strange ruined it all. The reality of things was thrown in your face every time you looked at where you were; every time you looked at the simple band on Strange’s ring finger.

Resignation soon turned into malice. And it continued to grow the longer you were in the presence of Doctor Stephen Strange. Memories gone by became dreams of watching the light leave Strange’s body, falling limp and lifeless. These dreams were what fed you.

There was a familiar magic signature that pulled you out of your stupor as you sat up. What’s going on now?

You ran your thumb over the cracked face of your pocket watch as you heard rapid footsteps above you. Thinking about Christine was pain, but a sort of numbness set in. You couldn’t blame her for how things turned out between the two of you, but you could definitely blame him.

#marvel #marvel one shots #multiverse of madness #doctor strange multiverse of madness #stephen strange #doctor strange #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #christine palmer #christime palmer x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #what we've lost #back in step #jc ink canons #jc inkworks #ink.chrissy #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

47 notes · View notes