#ingo while emmet is looking at him: :|

[ghostypetrainer]

Btw I’m PvPing you about Construct AU. Here goes:

Ingo was  on the singles line train.

Ingo was…on the singles line train.

Ingo was on the singles line train. The singles line train was in between stations and no challengers had reached the boss's car yet. Ingo held the metal pole for balance because safety was important, and one of the windows rattled a little bit around the turns, and Chandelure was floating up near the ceiling. Ingo was doing exactly what Emmet had instructed him to. He was on the singles line train.

Ingo was on the singles line train like he was every morning, acting as the line's Subway Boss. If any challenger appeared, he would say a speech Emmet had written and he would point dramatically, and he would conduct a difficult pokemon battle against them. Then, in the afternoon, Ingo would do paperwork to Emmet's specifications while Emmet handled the administration of Gear Station in person. That was his job, and he did it every day. It was more than his job--it was his entire purpose. It was why Ingo had been made.

But something was different. Something had changed about the singles line train since yesterday, and Ingo couldn't figure out what it was. There was no sound in the car that had not been there before. Nor any strange smells. The train was just as fast as it was yesterday, running down the track at exactly the same tempo. The lights? No, they were the same. The only difference that was readily apparent was that Ingo felt just a little bit warmer than usual.

Ingo was warm, but he wasn't uncomfortable. And he couldn't just take his coat off; then he would be out of uniform! Ingo looked up. Chandelure was still hanging there, close by.

Chandelure rocked back and forth with the motion of the train. When they went around a turn, it swayed like a real light fixture. When Chandelure realized that Ingo was looking up, it turned to look back down at him.

Chandelure looked at Ingo's chest with its big glowing eyes. The black line of glass that was its mouth was flat. Then it glanced up at Ingo's face, and looked right back at Ingo's chest. It had been doing that a lot, lately. Just staring at Ingo's chest, where the weird warm feeling was centered.

Ingo's face wasn't very expressive. Emmet hadn't made him that way. But he furrowed his brows a bit anyway. "Is something wrong, Chandelure? I feel…"

He felt…strange. Something to do with the warmth that was concentrated under his skin. Wait. Under his skin. The warm feeling wasn't coming from outside, it was coming from inside of Ingo. Had some mechanism of his changed? His workings were supposed to be a mixture of metaphysical and inorganic. That shouldn't make him warm. Ingo reached up and rested his free hand flat over the spot where his heart would be if he really was a human being.

It didn't really feel that different. The texture was the same. The motion that he made to simulate breathing was the same. The vibration from the train car that traveled up his legs and into his body was the same. But something else, some other feeling, was new.

Ingo tried to puzzle it out. He tried to think it through. Nothing about the train had changed, but maybe, something about Ingo had? His eyes found Chandelure again. Chandelure had big eyes, and it looked encouragingly down at him.

Chandelure was Emmet's pokemon, one of his oldest partners. Chandelure cared a lot about Emmet, and he loved it in return. They had a high friendship level. Chandelure had been put off by Ingo at first, but it had warmed up to him eventually. Did Ingo and Chandelure also have a high friendship level? Did Chandelure care about him, too?

That idea made the warm feeling glow brighter in Ingo's chest. Chandelure's eyes followed the feeling like a magnet.

"Do you like me?" Ingo asked. "That's okay. I like you, too." The warm feeling was overflowing, a tiny sun in Ingo's chest.

Chandelure cooed. An affirmative? It made Ingo happy to hear.

Wait. Ingo felt happy? He really did, he found. Some inexorable force was dragging the corners of his mouth up in an stiff approximation of a smile. Ingo was happy, and he liked Chandelure. Loved it, even. It was the same kind of love that he felt for the train running under his feet, and also for Emmet, who was, even then, riding miles away on the doubles line train.

Ingo was happy. He felt love. The heat like a candle flame in his chest wasn’t a mechanical failure, it must have been a soul! He smiled up at Chandelure earnestly. Chandelure fixed its own face into a little smile and it beamed back at him. They were friends!

"Don't tell Emmet, okay? If he doesn't know about my new soul, I can play so many pranks on him."

Chandelure nodded and returned to its spot by the ceiling with a self-satisfied look on its face.

YO THIS WAS SO GOOD!!!!

ahhhhh, the soul realization of what the change in himself is... capped off by the ending where Ingo asks if he and Chandelure are friends basically... and then of course. Chandelure agreeing not to tell Emmet because she also wants to play pranks on her beloved trainer. It's good. It's soooo good.

[mipmoth]

Submas VIOLENCE

[hoofpeet]

Girl moments .... !!

[peachy-doodles]

has been forever since aggie moment.... so behold. aggie moment.

[kelpiemomma]

The screaming had lasted for hours.

Not screaming like someone was dying; Ingo would have intervened if that were the case.

In some ways, the argument he could almost hear was worse.

The twins had come round with Cori and Razz, picking up Akari and Rei and taking them out for ice cream when it had started. Ingo had asked Davis about it who had, reasonably, looked uncomfortable.

"Dizzy loves our brother, she really, really does. But she... takes his lifestyle personally. They're very similar like that." Davis had responded quietly. "It's an old argument with no end. This happens- not normally in front of the kids, so Khan had us take them out of the house when she started winding up, and Cor asked if we could grab Akari for ice cream and..."

Ingo had let them go, sitting at home and listening. He couldn't hear the words but he could hear the tone. How angry Dizzy was, how it would go quiet and then there would be another outburst. Only a handful of times did Khan raise his voice in return at his sister, but never for very long. Ingo couldn't remember having any arguments like that with Emmet. He didn't remember their childhood, but the memories he had recovered of their teenage years and before his accident... he didn't think he and his twin had ever been quite so volatile.

Then again, there had been no signs of this sort of conflict between the oldest siblings either. If he wasn't hearing it, he'd never have thought they'd fight like this. Given the lack of interference from the rest of the neighborhood he wagered Davis was right, and that the best way to deal with this storm was simply to ride it out.

When the argument finally ended he was standing by his window that looked into his neighbor's front yard, worried. Dizzy stormed out with Khan following quickly behind. Ingo had never seen him look so... small. It was hardly a word one would associate with the young man, given his height and stature, and yet it was the only word Ingo could think of to describe him.

He watched as Khan reached for his sister, only for her to turn and slap his hand away.

“Why can’t you even try, you self-sacrificing bastard? You never even try!”

She stomped down the sidewalk, slamming the door to her car shut before turning it on and pulling out at a decidedly unsafe speed. Ingo watched as Khan stared after her, shoulders still slumped, before he put a hand up to his face and turned to walk back into his home.

Maybe it would be better to leave well enough alone, to pretend he hadn’t overheard… _that,_ but Khan was… well. Khan was his friend. Things may have been shaky to start with between them, but they had smoothed out. Khan knew about Ingo’s amnesia and never once judged him for it. Now, Ingo knew about… this.

Still. He hesitated before walking out of his own home and down the sidewalk to his neighbor’s, glancing around at the rest of the homes on the street. Blinds were slowly opening, curious eyes peeking through to see what still stood in the wake of the hurricane argument. The door to Khan’s home was unlocked when he tried the handle and Ingo slowly opened the door.

“Khan?” He called out.

There was a sniffling sound, a familiar hitch of breath.

“Yeah?” Khan’s voice was thick and low when he replied. “What’s up, need something fixed?”

“No, I…” Ingo shut the door behind him. The house was in one piece. For all the screaming and noise it appeared that nothing had been broken. The argument may have sounded violent but nobody had gotten physical. “I heard what happened and I was wondering if you were… alright.”

“Oh, you… you heard that?” Khan hadn’t come out to find him and so Ingo continued towards his voice instead. “Well,  yeah. They could probably hear that on the moon.”

“Possibly. I was unaware that Dizzy’s volume could rival my own.”

Khan was sat in the kitchen, slouched down in one of the chairs he’d built by hand. A byproduct of one of the many jobs he’d taken to keep his siblings fed, homed, and safe. He still looked, to Ingo’s dismay, small. Defeated. Deflated of all life.

“Yeah, she’s got some pipes on her. Always has. About burst my eardrums when she was a toddler, the way she’d howl when she threw a fit.”

One hand was rubbing at his face and his shoulders were still shaking intermittently. Ingo paused, uncertain, before he rested a hand on Khan’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what happened, but if you’d like to talk about it… or if you’d prefer, I can leave?”

Khan was silent long enough that Ingo prepared to straighten up, head out the door, and pretend this had never happened.

Khan leaned forward, rubbed his eyes again, and shook his head.

“You can stay,” he said quietly, and Ingo pretended he didn’t see the tears falling onto the floor, “it’s fine. You can stay.”

[randomwriteronline]

"Do you have rice at home?"

What a weird question. Emmet turned to Briosa and nodded, an eyebrow crooked up to make a confused expression.

Why?, he signed.

She shrugged over the back of her seat: "You know," she replied vaguely, not answering, and added: "Do you have butter, shredded cheese?"

Emmet nodded again, more puzzled.

"Mushrooms?"

He shook his head. She clicked her tongue.

"Zucchini?"

That he did have, yes.

Briosa hummed loudly.

"Do you have broth cubes?" she asked. Her hand rose from beneath her chin and made a gesture as if holding something small between her index and thumb: "Like the uh, the ones that you put in boiling water and it makes stock broth?"

Did he have those?

He shook his head, struggling to find the right signs: Broth... Powder.

"Oh, that's still fine."

You... Need? Thing?, he asked. The vagueness was tiring him out more than the already long day had.

Briosa hummed for a long while.

"Are you hungry?" she didn't answer.

Emmet raised a hand to give an exhausted half-half gesture.

"Same," she replied - which was strange, because according to Briosa she was never hungry. She turned off the last computer still on: "Let's go."

Home sounded awful. Home sounded empty and soulless. Home sounded like Crustle yelling because he had missed feeding time by 1 minute and already trying to rip open the food cabinet to forcefully get his supper like a big cement baby, and that did make him chuckle a little and give him the strength to be on his way.

His head pulsed a bit. Mawile must have been as tired as him, because Briosa held her in her arms like a little kid as they walked down the street at a pace that was clearly not up to the shorter man's standards.

Emmet yawned. Goodness. So tired.

Briosa skipped a little at his side.

"There's some foods you absolutely cannot eat at dinner," she began unprompted, but her squeaky voice was a welcome distraction from the noisy quiet, "Not because there's some actual rule - technically there is but I call bullshit on that, it's all food - but because they're so heavy on the stomach that if you do eat them you'll be dreaming of green Raticate and pink Donphants like you got five shots of ketamine before bed."

His head snapped to face her with eyes wide from vague concern.

"I don't actually know if that's what ketamine does, I've never had it," she added, oblivious to his look.

"That's not how you pronounce that," Emmet managed to deadpan.

Mawile translated him sleepily.

Briosa turned to face him, the corners of her otherwise perfectly straight mouth pointed downwards and her forehead creased in puzzlement: "Pronounce what?"

"Ketamine," he replied - the last syllable making a 'meen' sound.

"Ketamine?" she repeated - the last sillable making a 'mine' sound, like the possessive pronoun or the place where miners work.

"Keh-tah-meen," he sounded out carefully so that she could easily read his lips.

Her brows furrowed over her crooked nose: "Ketameen?" she said correctly with a tinge of disgust. Being treated with a nod, she scoffed: "That sounds stupid. It's not a 'meen'-ending word, it sounds too stupid. It could be if it ended in 'a' but otherwise it sounds way too silly for me. I'm gonna keep calling it ketamine."

"That's wrong."

"Well, it sounds better."

Whatever makes her happy.

Emmet blinked heavily.

"Why are we talking about ketamine?" he muttered. The streetlights were too bright.

"We aren't," Briosa replied as soon as Mawile had translated him in sign. "I'm just trying to keep you awake and you derailed the conversation with what is the right way to pronounce ketamine."

"I am awake," he mumbled back.

"Are you?"

He showed her his tongue - immediately covering it with his hand. An awfully unprofessional thing to do: Briosa wasn't Elesa, even though her name ended with the same syllable, and as far as he knew they weren't quite considerable friends.

How had he even thought of confusing them enough for a mistake in etiquette like that? They were nothing alike, in looks and sound.

The substitute didn’t seem that bothered, proceding without a care: “Is it ok if I ask you for some food for my lads while I’m at yours? I’ll pay you back. It’s just because otherwise they’re gonna eat at 2 AM.”

Emmet nodded without really paying attention; only when the words swam from his ears into his brain and began being digested did he narrow his eyes and stop right where he stood.

He turned and looked behind himself.

Briosa only noticed his sudden stillness after a dozen or so steps, when Mawile pointed her back to the flabbergasted man in the middle of the street.

“You good?” she asked.

He pointed to the direction from which they had come silently, in deep thought. He blinked, then finally turned back to her.

“This isn’t the way to your house,” he noted.

“It’s not.”

The matter-of-fact tone didn't help.

"Why aren't you? On the way home?"

"I'm following you."

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm going to your house."

"You're coming to my house?"

"I'm coming to your house."

"Why are you coming to your- my house?"

"To cook you rice with zucchini."

"Why?"

"For dinner."

Emmet took a moment to pause and ruminate on all that.

"Did we agree on, on that? That you were... Coming to my house to cook?" he asked, because he genuinely didn't remember if they had.

"No."

Ah. Made sense.

A slow roundhouse kick that was probably meant as gentle (and while it did not send him hurtling across the street, it was still imbued with a discreet amount of strength that made him wobble on his unsteady knees) hit him with the back of the foot square in the ass and propelled him forward a little bit.

"Come on, let's go," the man (when had she gotten back at his side?) egged him on, much like a father dragging his noisy tired child out of the supermarket by an arm with as much vague kindness as possible: "You're sleeping on your feet like a Rapidash and you need to get some food in you."

He was too tired to complain or make a comment about that first part, and could not argue with the second.

He was really hungry.

Excadrill seemed perplexed when Briosa snuck under his arm as soon as the door was opened and made a beeline towards the kitchen, but Emmet just waved a hand, letting her know all was fine.

“She’s helping,” he told her with a yawn: “Said she’ll make dinner.”

The Steel mole looked back at the room the small vaguely antropomorphized Electrode had disappeared inside of, not very certain whether or not leaving someone like that in the vicinity of gas outlets, fire, sharpened blades and various more or less dangerous tools at her whims’ disposal; but she did consider, turning once more to the man trying to slip his shoes off while Archeops was nibbling at his wrist to shake him out of his tardiness, that was a risk she was willing to take if it meant her ward would eat before collapsing into uneasy sleep.

Footsteps stampeded heavily all the way back out of the kitchen, and Briosa appeared from the doorframe.

"I don't know where anything is," she said very flatly.

The light that came from the room hit the side of her frame, almost painting a yellow line where it landed, making her look something akin to incomprehensible in the dim sorroundings.

Emmet managed to blink slowly.

"I did find the refrigerated foods and knife and the tap water," she continued as if to reassure him she wasn't a complete cretin, "But I don't know where anything else is and I thought maybe I shouldn't slam open all the cabinets of some house that's not mine to find the rice jar."

Her boss raised a finger in the air to ask her to wait a moment; he stood slowly, heavily, and wobbled on his socked feet over to her.

He didn't have a rice jar, but he did have a box of rice, as well as a rice cooker. He provided Briosa with a pot, some oil and a plate at her request: she struggled to pour the grains into her small palm six, eight times, each fistiful dropped in the plate, cursing softly in what seemed like gibberish, and he watched her absolutely transfixed by the motion and sound similar to rain.

Something vaguely pinchy pulling at his leg snapped him out of it.

"Durant," he assumed as he croaked without looking, leaning down a big to pet lightly something vaguely metallic but not at all like his Bug's carapace, "I'll get dinner. Hold on."

A tongue clicked loudly while he reached for the pantry under the silverware that held the Pokémon food, and a large blackish mass delicately helped him get the bags out. Mawile's large mouth was a little clumsy, since the stem connecting it to the back of her head was quite thin, so Emmet ended up reciprocating her help to save her some of the strain.

Above himself he could hear the gas sparking into fire on the stove.

He nudged Briosa with an elbow to get her attention while remaining crouched - it was a little surreal to be looking up at her as he signed: Zucchini?

"Water," she replied. "I need to boil it. Also I think we forgot the broth powder."

Why boil?

"For the rice."

Sitting on his knees so he could peek over the counter, he pointed at the rice cooker; she looked at it, then turned back to him with a completely blank expression.

Rice cooker, he explained.

"Ah," she replied, and made no motion towards it.

For cooking rice, he continued.

"Yeah, I figured." Briosa checked around the station for a moment more: "Hm, yep, we missed the broth powder."

His brows furrowed: Why powder?

"For the rice. You gotta boil the rice in broth to cook it."

Emmet blinked: Rice cooker, he repeated.

Briosa blinked: "Hm," she noted.

Her boss pointed back to the utensil.

Use rice cooker.

"I don't know how to use that."

I teach you.

"That's gonna take longer than just letting me boil the rice," she waved her hand, her stoat fingers grazing his nose with a certain resolution to the movement that told him not to worry: "I know what I'm doing. You do what you gotta and try not to fall asleep. If you need me to do something or you gotta tell me something just punt your elbow on my shoulder."

Might hurt.

Briosa smiled, toothy grin not nearly as terrifying as usual: "You're a wet noodle when fully awake," she laughed, sounding like a repeatedly squeezed rubber Ducklett: "You won't hurt me."

Then she turned to wash the zucchini a bit in the sink, humming something. Mawile slowly dragged a bag out of the kitchen, struggling a bit; Emmet carefully placed the powdered broth next to the stove where it could be easily seen and raised the other end of the heavy sack to help the little Fairy bring it all the way over to the livingroom, others following behind them in mid air, held floating in the air by Chandelure's helpful Psychic - to keep it away from Crustle’s impatient grabby claws as well.

It took him a hot moment to realize he would have needed seven more bowls (the other twelve already fetched by their respective owners, thankfully); he then also realized that other than Mawile, the six guests were not actually there.

Briosa was chopping a zucchini very slowly and heavily when he came in to ask her for her team, which sat in their Pokéballs on their counter a little closer to the kitchen door. Emmet saw it fit to collect them without bothering her, noting distractedly that she seemed to be singing and deciding, against his will, to listen in.

“... Amministra-zio-ne, e liquida-zio-ne, rateizza-zio-ni anti-previden-zial - misura came-ra-le, calcolo dell’IR-PES, scarico dell’I-VA, misura cata-stal...”

The tempo of her chopping increased to a horrendous degree immediately after as she vocalized quietly; Emmet watched her cut through the vegetable with admirable technique and fury for a moment more before deciding he did not want to have her turn around a little too fast and get that blade flying right in his eye socket, and went right back to the livingroom where his brother’s Bug was starting to scream his little bulbous eyes off in hunger.

Knowing full well how big, bulky, destructive and aggressive ‘the lads’ could be in battle, he was somewhat surprised to see their politeness outside of their Pokéball when he first released them. Their sizes did cause bit of a stirrup, especially among those who hadn't seen them before, and Emolga's heavily deformed scarred grin certainly did not put anybody at ease - but Seismitoad croaked very gently, as a kind greeting, and Bisharp bowed in an incredibly courteous manner; Klinklang did seem a little more than uneasy at the sight of Heatmor, trying to scoot behind Excadrill and to drag the much more relaxed Durant with it, but the Fire type seemed just as scared of the hunk of metal as he hid behind the only lady of the team.

Speaking of Conkeldurr - the poor girl was trying her hardest to shrink in her shoulders as soon as she noticed where she was, eyeing co-workers and new curious faces with a sheepish kind of apprehension, large rough hands playing with one another.

"Hello," Emmet welcomed them too tired to stop Boldore from running into the newcomers repeatedly. "I live here. You eat here tonight."

Cryogonal made a horrifying sound not too far from Candelure' worst cough.

He gave her a thumbs up: "Yes."

It struck him very suddenly that roughly three out of six out of Briosa’s team effectively could have been considered full ass human people by size, and that while one of them was indeed an enormous bulbous frog he should have probably just let Conkeldurr and Bisharp sit on the couch.

It also struck him that Cryogonal (from whom Haxorus was inching away) was a pure Ice type.

“We don’t...” he muttered, turning around to check on the bags. He stared at them for a second or so before remembering the rest of his thought: “Have Ice type food. Food for Ice types. Uh...”

Mawile’s little hands moved quickly to tell him something.

He blinked a couple times, trying to understand before giving in, pointing at his hand: “I cannot - three finger sign, I’m not. Fluent.”

The little Steel Fairy nodded apologetically and chittered as she repeated, slower so that he could try the signs out himself to properly translate them: No problem. C eat nothing or anything. C eat wood if want. No worry.

The chittering was probably so that Cryogonal could listen in herself and assure Emmet of the veracity of the statement with another ghastly shriek.

Which she did.

That got her another thumbs up.

It took a while, to properly get everybody their bowl of dinner, and he had to be helped a couple of times - mostly by Mawile, who seemed the most well-versed in reading written symbols.

He was so, so tired.

In the end they had managed to split the food around more or less evenly: both Durant and Excadrill had graciously declined the portion of Steel-specific food that should have been mixed with their other ones so that Bisharp and Mawile could have it, since they had nothing for Dark or Fairy types, and Emolga was more than fine getting only Flying-specific (Archeops wasn’t necessarily keen on that, but very wisely had not argued with the rat that looked like he had been through a shredder and survived) since Eelektross’ size demanded quite a bowl for him; Seismitoad had at one point striked up a conversation with his fellow Ground type regarding, Emmet imagined, which types of dirt tasted better, whereas Heatmor was still snout-deep in his can of beans, apparently eating them one at a time to better savor them, as normal Fire-specific food didn’t account for his digestive troubles.

Even Cryogonal had managed to snack around without causing an excess in panic. Gurdurr seemed to be the only one a little embarassed, glancing every now and then to the much bigger Fighting type in the same manner an elementary-schooler glances at a substitute teacher he may or may not have a puppy crush on.

It was relatively quiet, in the end. A lot of crunching and munching, and unintelligible words, but it was quiet.

Emmet shook himself a little when small teeth gently bit down on his arm: Mawile looked up at him with a slight concern, her little hands pulling at his pants to make him sit down properly instead of squatting on his toes.

“Hm?” he asked her - or, well, tried to - as he felt his head strangely light.

The Fairy insisted he take a seat first before explaining: No sleep yet! Rice not ready. Ready soon. Stay awake.

“I am Emmet. I am awake.”

Before no.

“Yes I was.”

Mawile pointed at Boldore: Called you, she explained. Food stolen. You asleep! No answer. Crab say shut up.

At that, he looked up to the three Bugs.

Durant and Galvantula both followed his gaze: Crustle turned his bulbous eyes in two completely different directions to try and feign ignorance.

That clearly did not work, as a perfectly straight finger pointed right at him.

“Bad boy.” his trainer’s brother decreted. Crustle (who by law knew any word he could have said could have been used against him) chirped out an indignated whine in protest. “No. Give Boldore some of yours.”

Bugs cannot quite huff, though the crustacean definitely did try; with no other option, he haughtily shoved what still remained in his bowl to the block of rock he had stolen the lunch from in the first place, who made a crumbling sound similar to a piqued ‘thank you’ and very slowly helped himself to the rest of his supper while the other retreated in his cement house as though he were the offended party here.

Well, that was solved.

Emmet rubbed one eye with his hand to shake the sleep dust off of it.

A three-fingered paw pulled at his shirt again: “I am awake,” he reassured Mawile, “I am not falling asleep.”

She did not particularly care about his blatant lies at the moment - not as much as she cared about getting him off the floor, at least, as evidenced by how she tried to pull him onto the couch despite her obvious size disadvantage. Bisharp, noting her struggle, quickly put aside his own bowl and rose to his feet, metal arms outstretched to catch the man in them.

“No thanks,” Emmet stopped him. “Can do it myself.”

Alright, he thought, time to stand up.

After a whole minute he had not moved an inch.

Bisharp, with as extreme a tenderness as a creature composed partially by sawblades could muster, gently slipped his hands under Emmet’s arms, lifted him into the air as one might lift a cat, and sat him on the couch.

“Thanks.” the human peeped.

Seeing the Dark type bow a little in response while Archeops blatantly laughed at him gave him some weird new kind of mortification to feel.

Maybe if he focused on the incomprehensible sounds somewhat reminscent of words coming from the kitchen, he would manage to trick himself into not thinking about having had to be picked up like a bag of cement because his joints didn’t respond.

From the door connecting the two rooms he could see Briosa perfectly still before the stove: a vacant look seemed to dwell in her eyes as her lips moved quickly, and perhaps most concerningly she was holding a kitchen knife in her right hand, bits and pieces of zucchini still stuck to the blade, with a grip that could have concievably crushed a piece of wood into shavings or caused a small enough pumpkin to explode under the pressure.

Not a very reassuring sight.

But it did immediately cancel his embarassment.

“... E il carica-to-re svuo-te-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...”

Very suddenly, she began banging her fists against her hips in asynchrony, large knife very much still grasped tight in her palm, as if her body was a drumset and she were playing it after getting a dose of pure sugar injected in her veins.

“Ed il so-cio scompa-ri-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...” she continued unperturbed by neither her own choreography nor the possibility of accidentally stabbing herself for that matter.

The rest of the chorus turned a little garbled from her furious headbanging, the movement so violent and so spread out through her entire frame (her torso and pelvis were oscillating in tandem back and forth to lend more strength to the motion, making her look a little like one of those bird-shaped toys that are constantly quickly dipping their beaks in the water, rising out of it, then diving back in for another sip) that it made him fear for a moment she would slam her head on the counter and either knock herself out or destroy it completely, with a higher chance of the latter.

Emmet turned back to Mawile, who had climbed the couch to sit next to him.

“She is always like this?”

She followed his finger with her gaze as he pointed to the kitchen.

Then she nodded.

“Man.”

No like silence, the Fairy explained.

"Aaah. So she talks."

The little beast waited a moment, then waved a hand in the air in a sort-of-yes-sort-of-no kind of gesture: Talk, no really. No hear voice. Feel mouth move, remember how voice sound. But no hear.

Emmet tilted his head: "She can't hear her own voice?"

Mawile nodded.

He clicked his tongue in thoughtful aknowledgement and blinked.

That was such a weird concept, not being able to hear yourself. It was the sort of obvious thing one never ponders on at all: so he had always assumed she could, without really thinking about it enough to question whether or not that was possible. And even if he had found himself reflecting on it in a sudden burst of curiosity, he would have probably still rationalized that she could, maybe by feeling the vibrations in her neck as she spoke.

But that would have meant keeping her hands on her throat all the time, he reasoned, and it would have been really bothersome for someone as prone to action as she was.

He wondered, suddenly, if she knew how squeaky she sounded.

Probably not.

"Could she hear herself?" he asked. "Somehow?"

Yes!, Mawile nodded enthusiastically.

Emmet blinked again. From what she had told him, he hadn't expected that could have been a possibility.

Headphone! Microphone!, the Fairy continued without needing any prompting. Ear implant! But no wear for long. Hurt ear. Or yell!

"Yell?"

If loud enough! Like before!

Did that mean she had been yelling?

This whole time?

Oh, Emmet suddenly thought: yes, actually, she must have been. The kitchen was a room that in some strange way never let any noise escape it; no matter how much the oil could have sizzled or how agonizingly the blender could have screamed, their agony remained hushed into silence between those walls. It was very nice, by all means - he still remembered having to retreat in his closet to escape the noise of his uncle in the kitchen so it couldn’t make him feel like there were Stunfisks flapping around in his veins - but it brought along the slight side-effect that if they had to set a timer that wasn't the oven's (which turned the machine off as soon as it was done) they would have to put it in the livingroom, or they'd never hear it.

For him to be able to listen to her, Briosa must have been belting the hell out of her incomprehensible song like tomorrow wasn't planning on being a thing.

“Verrry loud,” he commented, slowly.

Mawile nodded, whirring her tongue to imitate him as she signed: Verrry loud.

Some minor inconvenience must have happened, because Briosa shouted something irritated, possibly profanity of some kind.

Emmet leaned his head on the back pillows.

Now she was singing again.

“Al-me-no-fi-no-a-do-mat-ti-na-ti-pro-me - tto-che, sarò la fa-ccia, di-cui-hai-più bisogno...”

This one was much calmer. More melodic. The way she pronounced the words had a strange cadence, quick yet slow - it was hard to explain. He blinked, feeling drowsy all the way into his marrow.

“Me-glio-non-di-re-nien-te-aspet-tando-il-mat-ti-no, sor-rido, se-pen-so-al-no-me-che-tu mi-darai do-ma-ni...”

Huh. This verse had a completely different rhythm. Weird.

Maybe the author was part of some avantgarde musical genre he didn’t know.

He felt something lukewarm pulling his forehead back and realized his eyes were closed. When had that happened? Chandelure chimed at him something that sounded like ‘don’t fall asleep yet, you still have to eat’.

Ah.

So it wasn’t the song’s fault for having different-sounding verses.

He mouthed that he wasn’t asleep, voice barely leaving his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed he’d dozed off.

“... che, orati-mangida-den, tro, piccolo-pianeta-spen, to, come-una bri-ciolaal-ven-toe-un-bu-co-ne-roe-un-oc-chio-blu,” Briosa was continuing.

He wondered how much of it he’d missed.

“E, so-no-po-co-più-di-un-jamais-vu, tra tutte queste persone, nella-mia-testa-io-gioco-a-tabù, perdo-se-dico-il tuo no - me...”

A pinch at his leg.

Ow, he murmured, furrowing his brow; Durant chittered worriedly at him, nudging him to spur him into action. His eyelids felt horribly sandy against his sclera as he rubbed them with as much vigor as possible to shake any tiredness away.

He was not tired. He was not sleeping.

His knees popped when he straightened them to tense his legs.

He was not about to fall into a nap again.

“Io ti terrò la mano, tu tienimi l’anima...”

He bent down to grasp his feet.

“E pure se non sai chi sono non lasciarla mai...”

Maybe, if he went to check on Briosa, he would avoid knocking himself out on the couch for the next five hours.

He stood as though he were made of lead.

Following her saccharine voice, he slowly began wobbling towards the kitchen.

“Ve - di, ci sono, dei-ri, cordi, che-mi de - vi, sei grande, ma-ti, chiamo-an, cora ba - by,” (oh, a word he recognized) “Ho gl’occhi rossi ma non te ne accorgi, ti guardo mentre dormi, ma solo ieri-”

Her nose stuck out so much when you looked at her from the side. It jutted out from her forehead out of nowhere, somewhere a little above her eyes and almost right below her eyebrows, and then it came right down like a straight wall. It wasn’t perfectly straight, because there was a dent where it had likely been broken and incorrectly healed; so more than a wall it was like a waterfall interrupted in the middle by a rock. Despite the contrast with the rest of her more graceful features, it fit everything about her like a glove. Emmet’s nose showed no signs of harm and pointed outwards instead, like half the head of an arrow. What weird things to notice in the split second between two verses of a hook.

“-C’e-ri, nei giorni ne-ri, quelli che piove troppo fo-rte per stare in pie-di,” she sang: “E fottevamo anche la morte volando legge-ri, m’hai chiesto dimmi cosa te-mi, in che cosa cre-di, la mia risposta sei tu.”

She hummed loudly, thin lips pursed tight, tilting her head with the melody.

“La mia risposta sei tu...” she repeated while stirring the mass of rice in what little broth was left.

Emmet stared.

She had a nice voice.

When she turned to the door - maybe to call for him - she had a startle and flattened herself closer to the floor, little eyes blown wide and hand grasping the counter. She looked like she had a heart attack.

They simply stared at each other for a moment, before Emmet remembered she couldn’t have heard him come in and likely had shat her pants.

Whoops.

Briosa was quicker: “Hello!” she grinned apologetically. “I was really really loud, wasn’t I.”

Her boss shook his head, smiling back: No problem. You sing nice.

Expression losing any mortification, she flipped her wooden spoon to tap her chin with it a few times as though she were thanking a deeply captivated audience - giving a ‘youch’ and a ‘porca puttana bastarda’ when the heat carried by the utensil scalded her a little.

He wasn’t sure what that second thing meant, but it made him chuckle.

Briosa turned back to the pot and twisted her mouth: “Ok, since it’s almost ready, do you want me to put...” she rocked in place for a moment, hand waving a little, “A sensible person’s idea of a good amount of cheese and butter, or my idea of a good amount of cheese and butter?”

Second, he signed.

“Gotcha.” and she got her big knife back in hand and grabbed the brick of definitely softer butter like she was going to squeeze it between her fingers and annihilate it completely: “Drown it in dairy it is.”

Emmet wheezed weakly.

He fetched a couple plates and forks to set on the table, slowly, so slowly. By the time he found the glasses and started checking for a bottle that still had some water before pikcing one and putting in the sink to fill it, the rice had completely dried up, and Briosa was stirring it with butter and shredded cheese with such a focused gaze and furiously quick hand that an inattentive onlooker might have thought she was busy making merengues instead.

(They had tried exactly once, and in the end they’d both ended up with aching wrists and a bunch of half whipped egg clears despite their best efforts. In the end they had made sweet white omelettes that weren’t as bad as they could have turned out to be.)

“You wanna lick the spoon?”

Before he could even register the question he had already clamped the wooden utensil in his mouth.

Clearly the correct course of action: that tasted great.

Must have been all the cheese.

Now he was salivating.

“This’ll kill you,” Briosa assured him with a calm tone. “If you’re not gonna be sleeping after this I might have to punch a hole in your head.”

He gave her thumbs up. A good last meal either way.

They ate in silence, fairly quickly. Had he really not noticed how hungry he was up until now? Dragons. He shouldn’t skip meals. But maybe it was just because this rice specifically tasted so good. Why, he couldn’t really tell. It was just rice and zucchini. Drowned in dairy, but still rice and zucchini. It wasn’t even that hard to make. He probably could have made it on his own.

Maybe it was because he’d fasted the whole day.

He stood and fetched a second portion. Briosa was eyeing the pot like a Braviary waiting for the right moment to strike a Basculin.

When he motioned for her to hand him her plate she shook her head: “I’m not hungry,” she claimed, though he never quite believed her when she said that, even when she sounded so honest - maybe she was trying to convince herself, but as to why he couldn’t tell, “It’s just gluttony. Keep that in a tupper or something, I made a lot for that especially. And!”

Her index waved a little in the air, possibly to distract her boss from how she was standing to wash her dish and everything before he might object: “And, when you warm it, do it in a pan. With some oil. Gets all crunchy like popcorn. Good shit, let me tell you.”

Emmet nodded. You know a lot, he signed back once both his hands were free.

“My dad always fries his rice instead of putting it in the microwave.”

I see. It was very good.

She smiled at him weirdly.

“You gotta do it like this,” and she signed ‘very’ back at him - though her index and middle fingers paused for a moment after parting, dipping just a second towards the floor before she finished the sign.

He tilted his head: he’d been fairly sure he’d learned how to sign that correctly. Nevertheless, he imitated her.

“There you go!” she grinned. “It’s too weird when you say it with no gemination.”

Twin?, he asked, even more confused.

She spelled the word quickly: “Gemination - doubling letters in a word to make a longer or stronger sound. Like rubble or throttle or bottle. In this case it’s over-gemination because no letter in ‘very’ is doubled but that doesn’t matter. You geminate it. It doesn’t feel right if you don’t.”

How do you know?

“Know what?”

Gemination.

“Ah. Your mouth.”

He pointed at it, surprised. It likely looked a little comical, since he had taken a rather big bite at that moment.

Briosa smiled a little wider: he watched her clearly mouth the word twice, slowly.

“The eh sound opens it a little wider than the ee sound,” she explained, and mouthed it again. “The R by itself has a shwah sound, a sort of ‘uh’ - that’s really weak, so it gets replaced easily by a different one. If you stall it after an eh sound, the lips remain in a similar position, and you can see how they flatten more once the ee sound comes along.”

He looked more carefully as she repeated the motion once more before gulping down his last forkful and imitating her, trying to feel the sounds on his lips. Huh! That was true. He could tell the different shapes made by the vowels. Curious.

Verrry interesting, he signed. The stalling made her grin. Where did you learn?

“Phonetics class in college I had to take to meet the right amount of credits. I actually chose it mostly because the professor was deaf too, so.”

Emmet clicked his tongue, understanding; Briosa clicked it back in affirmation.

Who knows where they’d picked that up from.

He leaned his strangely heavy head on his crossed arms, splaying himself on the table with a sigh. He felt comfortably warm, at ease; he grumbled a protest when a smaller hand slipped his empty plate and dirty silverware away to wash it in the sink, but didn’t quite manage to coax himself to stand up fast enough to stop her from doing his dishes. He did manage to seize the still half full pot before her, emptying its contents into a glass container and managing to hold onto it long enough to squirt some dishsoap in it - not to clean it, because Briosa twisted his arm behind his back without breaking a sweat (without hurting him either) forcing him to hand it over to her.

You should not clean, he pouted once he had both his hands free again: My house. I’m host. You’re guest. I clean.

“I invited myself over though.”

And cooked.

“And ate also.” and she kicked his hip gently to get him out of the kitchen: “Get your pijamas on while I’m busy, you’re going straight to bed once I’m done.”

You’re not my dad.

She stared directly into his eyes with a face so blank it almost made him laugh.

“Do you want me to adopt you,” she said like it was a threat.

Emmet’s entire body began shaking to contain a giggle. He shook his head.

“Then wash your teeth and put on your jammies.”

He wheezed in her face.

She snorted back.

“But seriously,” she chuckled, “Go get changed. The rice is gonna hit soon and you’re not gonna be able to move a muscle for the next three hours otherwise.”

Alright, fair.

He didn’t notice it, but the Pokémon chatting about in the livingroom were all greatly relieved to see him stumble into his room giggling to himself like a kid.

Flannel felt good on his arms. It was soft, warm, loose... It seemed like forever since he had last worn those pijamas. They were awfully comfortable. He had to make an effort to change into them more often when he came back home. They were much better than a dirty button up and dress pants.

(He hadn’t called before eating. He should have called now.)

(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.)

“If you’re naked stick out your leg!”

The sound of Briosa’s voice shouting from the corridor made him almost throw the Xtransceiver into high heaven, fumbling to catch it so that it didn’t shatter on the floor and hastily closing the call before she could hear the ringing and ask about it.

The fact that she was deaf dawned on him a second too late, but that was done.

(And he hadn’t replied, anyways.)

He settled the gadget on the nightstand, trying to pull himself out of the spiral he’d almost been sucked in; without even thinking he proceeded to stick his leg out through the doorway.

There was a beat of silence; then: “I said naked!”

Emmet cawed out a laugh.

His head peeked through as well. Briosa looked at him, face plain, coat in her arms and hat in hand.

“I thought you’d passed out,” she noted.

Nope, he signed back. Still awake.

“Not for long!”

Sounds evil.

Her brows furrowed: “What’s that mean?”

You sound like you’ll knock me out.

She thought it over a moment before squeaking a chuckle.

It would be verrry easy, he shrugged.

“It would!”

He accompanied her back to the livingroom. The various bags of food had been transported away, the bowls had disappeared back into their cupboard, Crustle still refused to grace the room with his handsome face, and Gurdurr hurriedly scuttled away from Conkeldurr despite having barely come close enough to graze her, deathly embarassed by his crush and round nose redder than usual; Cryogonal shrieked something in his general direction as greeting.

He gave her thumbs up.

“Alright my beautiful death machines,” Briosa called with a tone so affectionate it felt as though her mouth was dripping cotton candy: “We’re goin’ back home! Time for the circus trick.”

She patted her belt a few times, looking for her set of Pokéball. Emmet helpfully pointed them to her from where he’d laid them on the table; Mawile took that as an opportunity to gently bite her shirt as she collected the spheres to rapidly sign something at her and direct her attention over to Heatmor, who was fidgeting rather nervously with his yellow claws.

Once he had her undivided attention, he pulled the sweetest pair of Baby-Doll Eyes he could muster, wiggling demurely as though whining.

Briosa smiled: “Go on, give her a snuggle,” she allowed.

In a second the Fire type wrapped Durant in a tight hug, rubbing his snout on her with a concert of thrilled chirps; the Steel Bug for her part clacked her mandibles rather happily as though to remind him they were going to see each other tomorrow at work anyways.

The beasts who hadn’t visited the station in quite some time eyed the exchange with genuinely dumbfounded gazes.

It probably felt a little like beholding a glitch in nature itself.

A brief whistle tore Heatmor from his friend; he waved her bye one last time before a reddish ray sucked him right back into one of the six balls being juggled by his trainer, followed suit by each of his associates while Mawile latched herself onto her aidee’s elbow.

Emmet followed the trajectory of the flying spheres without trying to keep up with their increasing speed, head heavier than lead lolling back and forth until all six were caught with a fluid graceful motion between the fingers of the Substitute, the little Fairy swinging from her arm leaping onto her head and landing perfectly balanced - thanks to her main maw acting as counterweight - right on her buzzed mousy hair with a little flourish, like an olimpic gymnast.

He weakly waved his hands in a silent applause. Mawile bowed deeply, proud; Briosa curtsied and thanked him by grazing all ten fingertips to her chin.

Must teach me, he signed as he forgot to stifle a yawn.

“Maybe when you’re not falling asleep on your feet.”

Agreed.

Galvantula gently nuzzled her leg.

“Ye, ye, I’m leaving him to y’all now,” she assured the Bug. She saluted the rest of the beasts as she slipped her coat back on hurriedly and helped her aide back down into one of her pockets: “Thank you for not mauling me!”

A chorus of noises she couldn’t hear bid her farewell.

Socked feet accompanied her to the door. Emmet stalled for a moment before opening it; his fingers drummed on the knob under eyes of rotten green waiting patiently for him to send them on their way.

Instead he turned towards her, hands a little sluggish as he signed: Thank you. For rice. And company. Elesa does this, usually. When she can.

“That’s nice to know.” Briosa noted.

Not always. She comes, not always. I mean that. Always nice, when she comes. But doesn’t come always.

“Yeah, I imagined you meant that.”

Sorry. Verrry tired.

“I can see that.”

I am... Bothering?

“Not at all! You just kinda look like you’re melting. You should go sleep.”

Will do.

Briosa smiled. It was the most angular smile he’d seen on her yet, and it fit her like a glove. It made him think like the smile that made Elesa’s eyes too small and her face too round. It was sweet.

“Next time I’ll make you a soup,” she said. “And if I remember them I’ll sing you some songs from old cartoons to keep you awake.”

He liked the idea of a next time.

He gave her an ok; she tilted her hat at him.

“Goodnight.”

Goodnight.

Then he closed the door behind her; tucked his and his brother’s partners to bed; turned off the lights; crawled under the covers.

He slept well.

[nonovyabuisness]

[critterbitter]

The twins and their starters may have grown slightly taller, but their love of shenanigans have tripled, no, quadrupled in size.

On that note did you know Eelectrik has a glow animation?? Perfect nightlight eel. Absolute gold standard for creature. Click here for the masterlist!

Bonus shitpost under cut ft @birdsaretoddlers’s incredible take.

(plus a fanfic drabble that birds did while we were discussing in chat! Check out their funny writing @birdsaretoddlers) “Lam lam pentttt. Lam.”

“Language. I am not calling them that. This is a civil discussion about the capacity of a 284 Berkshire’s firebox, not a playground argument.”

“Lammm Pent.”

“If you possess my phone I will have to put you in time-out in your ball, and neither of us will like that.”

The argument over a literal online flame war was cut short by the door flying open, one of the hinges breaking off with the force and flying somewhere into the aether, never to be seen again. Or at least, not without a strong magnet.

Emmet stood there, proudly, holding his newly-evolved Eelektrik, his grin a mile wide. Ingo picked his heart up out of his femoral artery, where it had lodged itself, and gently removed Lampent from where she hid, hanging over his shoulder. Emmet stood there, eyes twinkling, clearly ready to perform the coveted Bit. Ingo opened his mouth, got halfway through a word, and his twin took the proffered delight of cutting him off.

“I am Emmet and I discovered something INCREDIBLE. INGO LOOK.”

Ingo looked, because what else was he going to do? He would allow his twin to complete his circus act, it was only proper and polite. Eelektrik trilled with delight. Emmet twirled like the best of Nimbasan runway models, clearly wrestling his eel, cooing platitudes to it as he writhed and squirmed to get it into position.

“Me beautiful slimy baby, my beloved pool noodle, my beeesstt conductor!~” Doing something that could generously be called ‘dislocating his shoulders’, Emmet managed to get his eel flipped up and around his neck. He flopped forwards, bonelessly, tipping his hat and giggling madly. He was grinning harder than normal. Ingo was a little scared.

“But now, Eelektrik can do MORE. OBSERVE.”

He threw his shoulders back, standing up as tall as he could, somehow not throwing himself ass-first onto the floor as the fifty pounds of eel he was currently deadlifting remained stationary over his neck. Emmet’s arms flew upwards and out, rocking back and forth in jazz hands. Eelektrik frilled its fans, made another happy little buzz and-

"Eelektrik boa."

“DRAGONS ALMIGHTY. THE EEL GLOWS.”

There it was, clear as day. Eelektrik flashed it’s spots in natural bioluminescence, blinking like a neon sign. Bright beautiful yellow and clearly charged, Emmet’s hair stood on end, pushing his hat an inch off his head. They blinked in a rhythmic, pulsing manner. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, in a way. Ingo snapped back to reality, realizing his mouth had dropped open and Lampent had ceased questing for his Pokedex. Recognizing Emmet was looking for a response, he threw his arm out in a thumbs-up so fast his arm hurt, snapping his suspender against his neck.

“Brrravo! Ten out of ten! Majestic eel scarf!” He praised, Emmet’s expression only growing further full of himself and his achievement, which was well deserved. Lampent echoed the sentiment, flashing back at Eelektrik in response.

Now that both Pokemon could glow, they’d never have a problem in the caves again!

[factual-fantasy]

I really admire those submas artists that are able to draw Ingo and Emmet clearly expressing different emotions while still keeping their signature frown/smile. Bonus points to the ones who even keep their half lidded eyes! I don't know how you guys do it <XDD

I tried experimenting with the boys expressions and tried to keep their smile/frown.. but man, its tough for me. I mean, the mouth is literally and figuratively half the expression! XD I guess their expressiveness will come mostly from their eyes..? Oh well, I just gotta experiment a little more I guess XDD

Also the last expression for Ingo's page was going to be him laughing. But I couldn't make him laugh + frown without looking like a complete maniac 🤣🤣 So I kind'a turned it into a cute headcannon. The only time Ingo gets a big genuine smile plastered on his face is when he laughs. And wouldn't you know it, Emmet laughs with the same smile. :}

[nartothelar]

But how much would that affect them once they are reunited? Emmet automatically dismissing Ingo when he does something bad for him, for one moment he forgets he actually is there again now and it's only when Ingo's warm and very real hand rests on his shoulder that he snaps out of it. Or Ingo seeing Emmet on the couch from the corner of his eyes and his blood runs cold, his brain is sure that something must be wrong, he's dying or badly hurt bc he is seeing the man in white again, and it's only when Emmet is holding onto his arms, saying words that he can't process through his panic, that he remembers where he is and that everything is okay now. It would be a while before they got back to any resemblance of normalcy after so much trauma they both went through.

are you real?

- ingo just recently returned; emmet can hardly believe it

- when he appears, emmet doesn’t look at “ingo” bc he knows he isn’t real (but also bc if he does, the illusion will be broken that much quicker)

- physical touch grounds emmet

[parasolladyansy]

DxP REWRITE - Subway Bosses

Hey look, it’s BW Ingo & Emmet! Young new Subway Bosses who quickly rose through the ranks of the Battle Subway. Drawing them together was so nice 🥲 I love the headcanon of how Ingo is more vocal while Emmet’s body language speaks for him. Also, uh-oh.

PS: that shot of Gear Station - it’s based on this very blurry promo art I found on Bulbapedia:

According to this, the weird dome-pillar-thingy we run around in the game was actually more of a steampunk contemporary art piece! Made me think of all those school trips to NY’s art museums.

🔼 Diamond x Pearl REWRITE 🔽

<<Previous / Next>>

[ratwithhands]

I'm astounded by how many people were interested in the magical boy AU! So sorry for not updating on it, I really didn't think it was that interesting 👁👁💦

This is Emmet's warped uniform, essentially what his fighting form looks like after his soul stones lose sight of Ingo and attempt to work alone. To compensate for not having a battle partner, his weapons and attacks have gotten more aggressive to deal the damage he'd usually get as a pair. His clothes have also lost much of their brightness and charm, getting tattered and shredded, reflecting his own outlook on things trying to fight Team Plasma alone while maintaining his normal routine.

This was fun to sketch! I had a lot of fun with Emmet's coat (especially the coattails!), having it white on the outside and black on the inside added a contrasting backdrop for his body. The torn edges were cool too, I was trying to think of how I could make him look more malicious/unwelcoming and immediately thought back to Princess Kraehe, which is where the wing shape idea came from.

I drew Ingo's warped form several months ago, but now that I finished Emmet, I have to redo him 💀 He actually had two, since his were based on the level of his amnesia. His first one retains much more of his original uniform, morphed to match the clothing of the people around him, but his second one is a completely different outfit, the result of him relating more to his new roles and disconnecting from his past. These sketches are butt ugly since they were meant for drafting, but I'll post them now or they're going forever

The weapons used are a naginata and ōdachi, I might pick different ones later but they felt solid at the time. Hopefully he will be more fabulous after a rework ^^*

[leafyisgreennotblue]

With Legends Z-A, I gave him the unavoidable design. I had written so much background and trying to get it on Insta was a hassle, but luckily I’ll be able to fully put it here with no issues,,:

It was hard to steer from the typical older Emmet look but I tried my hardest to make it seem like it would’ve been. I tried looking up France fashion from 1600-1900 but it was either some ridiculous outfits or suits, and since it mentioned the redevelopment of Lumiose City, it was either working up from something like Jubilife village or was upgrading from what it already is. I’ve heard a lot of theories that Legends Z-A will be taking place in the future or bounce back from future to past, but since it’s hard to incorporate futuristic outfits without knowing “how futuristic” it’ll be, I stuck to something from a layer time period in France. I drew him more of a square shape in his eyes instead of triangular, both to signify age and his lost connection with Ingo. Maybe not a permanent design but I think it adds a lot to his demeanor. He kept Basic stuff like he still has his coat, hat, etc. because Ingo got to keep all his old stuff too, but since the trailer looked more modern and Pokémon were with people, I don’t think it would be all destroyed like Ingos just cause it seems like a more civilized nation alongside pokemon and if it really did get destroyed in some way, I have a feeling he would be able to get it repaired without it getting ruined again. Also in terms of the suit I think the darker color is a good parallel to Ingos pearl clan outfits lighter colors. A lot of the design choices were meant to parallel him anyways. Since Ingo had lost his gloves in his Hisui design, giving Emmet new ones felt appropriate for some reason. In terms of the cane I gave him, not only is he an old man, I think it’s kinda needed. Ingo had that little wristband to signify he was a warden, while I think the cane could be useful for a mega stone wink wink nudge nudge. Cute little accessories for them I’m so nice 💀 he could definitely have a slower lifestyle in comparison to Ingo, and I definitely could see him working at Lumiose Station (if it exists in this game) and even though he would most likely have his memory wiped too, Ingo still said the same train themed quotes even with his memory gone, and even then he still had SOME memory, it was just very faint. Emmet definitely could feel some “connection” to the station and say stuff like “Some late nights I think I see a man who looks like me, but upon second glance it’s just my imagination. Even if I can’t seem to shake it from my mind, it seems I still wish to see him again…” anywho for the drawing, I made a few references. The main one just being a reference of design, but the one in the top right corner was a small reference to Alabaster Icelands. I’ve seen a lot of people use the snow to give Ingo flashbacks to Emmet, and while I think my station one is more closely related to Ingos darker color scheme, I think having him in the snow was a good nod to that. The bottom right corner was a reference to a drawing (that probably most people already know what I’m referencing) that had Pokémon that I thought resembled them, and one of the ones I had included for Ingo was Klefki. So just a little salt to the wound (it wasn’t even that bad.) Anywho, I know the design isn’t very refreshing, but I tried to keep it as canonical as possible.

[aya-luri]

Am I the only one who doesn't associate Zekrom with Ingo and Reshiram with Emmet but do it the other way around? Well, perhaps this will become an unpopular opinion, but, if you stop to think about it there are quite a few points that can support this theory. Let's check them out! To begin with, it's the legendary dragon Zekrom the one who appears on the cover of the White version of the game, while Reshiram does the same on the Black version, which would indicate that they actually represent their opposite color. Such small detail is already important in itself, not just the basic color of the dragons per se. Also we all know that Zekrom's associated element is the electric type, like Emmet's Eeleektros, while Reshiram's is the fire type, like Ingo's Chandelure, both being the most representative pokemons of the Subway Bosses.

Although the issue of ideologies of each dragon is used to link them with each brother among the fandom, "ideals" being the one typically attributed to Ingo for his passionate way of encouraging trainers, while for Emmet it is the "truth" for his direct way of communicating, this could work much better the other way around. If we have learned anything from Ingo on Pokemon Legends Arceus, it is that this man is full of existential doubts that lead him to want to get closer to the player in order to know more about himself. That's it, the truth about his origins. But he already had some tendency to this type of behavior long before, as it was evident in the first Black & White games.

"Where is my destination? I've kept thinking, and I've learned one thing. That is, you cannot know what happens after winning without winning." Through such questions, Ingo seeks to reach a real conclusion, his own truths. And perhaps in our idealized image of him we forget that he can also be frank and direct, without the need to embellish words with lies.

"However, it is difficult to win unless you and your partner are in total sync." On the other hand, and as we have said before, the frankness with which Emmet expresses his opinions makes him look like an open-minded character, sincere, making this seem (for many people) to be his only notable characteristic, despite the fact that it's kinda obvious the way in which he greatly idealizes Pokémon battles.

"This time, I am really serious. Really serious. Because if a battle is not serious, it is not fun." He firmly believes that there is a way to go about Pokémon battles, and that way is by giving it your all in them, and in an ideal world, everyone would have fun battling just as he does, but this is not always the case. Emmet clearly expresses how he believes things should be, and he's also aware that his own victory may not only be due to his skill but also to circumstantial elements or, put another way, luck. So he also idealizes the player's own defeat when it occurs, having enough consideration to make it seem like something unfourtunate. Further proof that the fandom has been associating the wrong dragon with the wrong twin can be found in the legend of the twin heroes, where it was the oldest who pursued the truth, while the youngest pursued the concept of ideals.

This birth order also corresponds to Ingo and Emmet, Ingo being the eldest of the both and Emmet the youngest.

That's why despite being white, I think Reshiram suits to Ingo much better and the same for Emmet regarding the black dragon Zekrom. All of these points put together carry much more sense than simply thinking that each dragon's ideologies relates to a brother just by the main color of his outfit. Although this, in the end, does not have much relevance either, since canonically there is no relationship between these legendary Pokémon and the Subway bosses, other than the simple fact of playing with mere chromatic issues. Still, it's always fun to speculate, right?

[gogo-gogurtman]

Oh, Darling of Mine!

Do you want to know what’s it like to have the Subway Masters crush on you? How they’d act when they catch a glimpse of you in the crowd? It was about time Cupid’s arrow struck these workaholic train men!

👉 Contains: SFW fluff, separate headcanons, Ingo x Reader, Emmet x Reader

🌙 I just wanted to write about how giddy the Subway Masters get every time they see their sweetie heart :)

🖤 ▵ 🔲 𝓘𝓷𝓰𝓸 🔲 ▵ 🖤

When love hits Ingo, it takes him a while to realize that these feelings aren’t purely platonic.

It’s either because he’s oblivious or inexperienced with romance.

Doesn’t matter though, because when he first starts to feel that pull towards you, he just knows that he always wants to be near you.

Ingo wants to be your friend so bad! But he didn’t know how to ask without it sounding like a business proposal.

Emmet had to ask for him and initiate the friendship. He was so forward with it, too. Ingo nearly pulled the breaks on the conversation because he was so red and flustered over how his brother put him in the spotlight like that.

Ingo thinks you’re cool. Your job? Interesting. Your stories? Pleasant to hear. Your Pokémon? Absolutely stunning and asks if you want to have a group play date.

Despite this all, he still manages to keep that frowny face. It’s kinda uncanny with him speaking nothing but goodness over you while wearing that frown but it’s charming.

Especially in the moments where his eyes softens and the ends of his lips curls upwards. Aren’t you lucky? His cat-like smile was only reserved for his family and close friends.

Every time he catches a glimpse of a color you frequently wear, his head immediately snaps up to see if it was you in the crowd.

His frown somehow deepens when it’s not you.

Ingo is such a gentleman! The type of guy to give you his coat on chilly days, open any doors for you and pull out chairs, keeping you close to him as he navigates through busy areas….

Basically, I’m a believer that’s he’s an old fashioned guy. An odd, old fashioned guy (and we love that <3)

Great man with great life advice. He’s got you when you need them (not for romantic advice lmao)

But like his speech, his advice includes heavy train analogy 🚂

If you’re sensitive to loud noises, he’ll make the effort to lower his voice around you.

Doesn’t realize that half the things he’s done for you can be considered romantic.

He really hopes that you will challenge the battle lines! If you make it to his cart, he would shower you and your team with loud praises and show you his best self when battling.

Ingo would even research your preferred Pokémon typing and interests. He’ll even give you advice of some strategies and be an active listener when you talk about your likes.

He would start to offer you potions and berries.

For a while, he puts up this friendly and professional front. He doesn’t want you to think less of him if you see his mask slip.

Like many, I headcanon him as the older twin, so he does harbor insecurities such as bottling his emotions to appear more “reliable” and feeling like it’s expected of him to make sacrifices for everyone.

If you offer him your shoulder to cry on and give him promises of being there for him, he would feel so relieved. It would touch him to know that you don’t mind him without his mask.

Mans so stiff. But he would like to slow dance with you.

He gets caught up in that daydream every time he catches the speakers playing classical or love songs at the station.

Keeps mental tabs on your favorites. Window shopping for Ingo will never be the same (He once stood outside of a display for twenty minutes debating whether or not he should get you an item he’d think you’d like.)

You’re just his favorite person (that isn’t his brother or Elesa)

As his feelings for you grow, he will call you by your name less and start picking up nicknames like “Dear” and “Dearest”. He did, on one occasion before confessing, let a “sweetheart” slip out. When you caught that, Ingo was not looking at you as he was busy hiding his red face behind his hat.

The day Ingo realized that friends shouldn’t be this affectionate and that he liked you, it hit him like a train.

Though, he accepted it quick, and changed tracks so he can see if there was a chance that you’d feel the same.

But by that point, his love for you grows to be too much. His heart yearns for yours, his soul aching to merge the tracks of life with yours.

With a pleasant restaurant marked down for later and his brother giving him a supportive slap on the back, Ingo faces you and in his own, loud, conductor-esque way, tells you how much he loves you. Do you feel the same?

🤍 ▿ 🔳 𝓔𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓽 🔳 ▿ 🤍

Love? Ha. No.

He acknowledges that you’re attractive. He acknowledges that he may harbor a crush on you.

But the minute Emmet feels his crush solidifying into an infatuation, he’s at war. He’s in denial about that.

Emmet loves to see your face, especially your smile with matching bright eyes.

He tries extra hard to be the main reason for your smile.

If you battle, most likely every time he sees you he’ll demand a battle. Get those handy dandy potions ready because he is still not going easy on you.

If anything, Emmet goes all out on your battles. An excuse to show off his skills and Pokémon. But if you lose, he doesn’t get in your face about it. He would praise both you and your Pokémon’s efforts and share some battling advice. He would also offer you potions and berries.

A favorite of his is spending time with you talking about strategies and both of your Pokémon teams. Think of all the combinations! Emmet would still enjoy it if you just listened to him as well.

Emmet also likes listening to you too! Your rambles are verrrry interesting!

Definitely look into your interests in his free time. He wants to be the best conversation person!

Also, gossip bestie. He likes a good gossip session 💅

Somehow, he always manages to spook you when he suddenly appears at your side. For someone with long strides, he’s pretty quiet.

It’s just that every time he spots you in the crowd, he immediately b-lines towards you. One time, it took Ingo ten minutes to realize that Emmet wasn’t walking with him anymore and had stop to talk with you.

Has a tendency to drag you around when he’s excited. Doesn’t realize it until you say something and completely do a 180. AKA, he completely removes himself from you and pretends that nothing happened.

Mans got a bad case of cuteness aggression. Why??? Are??? You??? so??? CUTE????

Replays your conversations in his head all day. Files any important details away in his mind for safe keeping. Emmet also tends to daydream about future conversations and how to wow you.

On that topic, also daydreams about successfully sweeping you off your feet.

He would like very much to go on different outings with you. It also just be a simple walk and it’s be enough for him.

When he gets offered sweets, instead of saving them for his brother, he would now offer them to you if you’d enjoy confectioneries (Ingo cannot know about this betrayal)

His signature smile does get a bit wobbly and rosey when he interacts with you.

Emmet also teases you. It can be by flirting or playful jabs. He likes to see all the expressions he can pull from you.

He’s very physically affectionate. Squishing your cheeks, full on hugs that squeezes the air out of your lungs, doing that hold holding thing where he swings your intertwined hands to match his strides.

Emmet would also respect it if you didn’t want to be touched. Last thing he wants to do is to make you uncomfortable.

You need an opinion? Emmet is as blunt and honest as an old woman. He will say that outfit does not look right and save you from a wardrobe malfunction. But he will tell you when something looks great.

His compliments are straightforward, you may end up with a red face.

His brutal honesty is also good for snapping you out of delulu land. He really doesn’t intend on making you feel bad, he just wants to help.

He doesn’t tell anyone, but when his feelings grow genuine, he has self-deprecating thoughts over how this friendship is an elaborate cruel prank of yours.

You can’t possibly enjoy his presence that much. Doesn’t he get annoying? Doesn’t he get too rude or too pushy with battles? Doesn’t his train talk get tiring?

Emmet thinks of himself as the weirder one of the twins. There’s not a lot of people approaching them with a genuine friendship, much less with him.

As the younger brother, he tends to downplay his misfortune and shut himself out when he’s going through something. He doesn’t want to add on any more burdens to Ingo.

But with you, you make him feel safe to act like himself. You make sure to let him know that he doesn’t need to cut out parts of himself to make you enjoy his company.

After hearing that, he decided that he can’t have you disappear from his life. You’re verrry important to him, now.

The Joltiks, man. You will find some stowaways on you, either by their own choosing or Emmet planting them on you.

Gets more starry eyed if you baby them like he would. The Joltiks are a testament to see if you’re a Real One.

Affectionately would call you “Dear”, “Darling”, or when you two are dating, “Baby”.

Emmet likes upbeat music. When he hears it, he feels like dancing. He imagines dancing with you and swinging you around and around.

Your giggles would be music to his ears. Don’t be shy now, he wants to hear how happy you are with him.

At some point, he comes to terms with the fact that he’s fallen in love with you. You, his friend that doesn’t shame him for being himself and being his rock.

There was no planning, no prolonging when he realizes this. Because when the two of you are enjoying a moment together, Emmet holds you close and tells you he loves you.

His pretty darrrling, would you like to be his?

[cardinal-crossing]

A flower painting I finished! It was really fun just to sit down and paint for a few hours after this crazy semester. I was considering making prints of this one actually!

I will explain the meaning of the flowers under the cut, as they make the piece angsty, but otherwise, this was a really fun piece! Enjoy!!

Alright, flower meaning time. I will explain the overall piece and then discuss the flowers individually.

Firstly, the piece represents Emmet's refusal to accept his grief and the loss of a loved one, as all the flowers mean grief and loss in some aspect, and the blindfold represents his refusal to accept it, or in this case, look at the flowers. Now, more specifically, the meanings of the flowers!

Willow Tree Leaves: I included these leaves as an accent to the marigolds; however, while not technically a flower, the willow tree has its own meaning. A willow tree often represents sorrow and loss, as well as mourning, the common theme of this piece (whoo hoo!), but I put it next to the marigolds to give the symbolism that the sorrow will always exist even in tandem with the marigolds, which the meaning of is explained later.

Forget-Me-Nots: Forget-me-nots represent true love; this flower means love and respect towards the person it is gifted to, and the person will never be forgotten in your thoughts. Specifically, it represents Emmet's love for Ingo and his promise to never forget him.

Marigolds: Marigolds are often associated with good luck and passion but can also interestingly represent life and death. These flowers are often seen on Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, as a celebration of death and remembrance. This flower is used as a hint towards the future, when Emmet may one day be able to celebrate the death of his brother and celebrate his life as a person.

Wild Chrysanthemums: Chrysanthemums are often associated with death, often being the only flower brought to some European countries, namely, France, Spain, Italy, Poland, and Croatia, and are mourning flowers. In this image, I specifically used what my family calls a mourning bouquet of flowers, and I referenced a bouquet my grandmother had made (we have a small ranch and grow a lot of flowers!) This flower represents Emmet's immediate emotion, as it is the largest of the flowers. Anddddd that's my rant about flowers! I love flowers and symbolism very much, and I am constantly studying them. Flowers are one of my favorite things to paint as they are so intricate and colorful!