#(tucking emmet in so he gets enough rest)

[hoofpeet]

Thinking thoughts abt Sugar ... I think it’s interesting to imagine Sugar having good intentions for Emmet more or less from the start but being somewhat misguided in attempting to take care of him.. Like natural zoroark instincts = lie & shapeshift to reach your goals --> lightly manipulate your trainer to get him to cooperate with you without fully even comprehending what you’re saying --> accidentally inflict psychological damage on your human

[tunastime]

A Minute in the Morning

so I started playing pokemon legends arceus. crumples to the ground. (2762 words)

In a hazy, rusty morning light, Ingo wakes up.

It’s a slow start—like his office computer, taking a whole ten minutes to finish booting, enough to stir sugar into his morning coffee and dissect his breakfast sandwich into parts. It feels like it takes just about that much time for Ingo to become aware of where he’s lying, which is in bed. Which is not where he fell asleep to begin with, which means that someone lifted him to bed and tucked him in. Which was rather sweet. Because he’s burrowed into the covers like a happy drilbur, keeping the cold from his fingers and toes and nose. He finally blinks his eyes open, and it’s sunrise that fills his room. Not his room. Scratch that. Emmet’s room. No wonder the blankets are so much lighter than he remembers them being. Nevertheless. Happy drilbur. He weasels a little more into the pillow. From either side of him, something moves. It’s slight, if there, but as he cranes his neck, slow and careful, he can see a dark head of hair on one side, and silver-white on the other. 

Ingo’s heart swells a fraction too big and too warm for his chest as he sighs out.

Elesa and Emmet haven’t woken up yet, which is a plus. If he were to move too much and move them he might lose the warmth from either side. Elesa’s shoulder rests against the crest of his back, and Emmet’s holding onto his elbow with one hand. The grip is loose at best, but the warmth, both from shoulder to spine and hand to elbow, seeps through him.

It’s blurry. Just everything. It kind of mushes together in his brain, like jam. Or maybe jelly. It doesn’t really matter. If he thinks too hard, his stomach starts to twist in knots, and he’d rather not feel sick while he’s trying to enjoy his morning. He remembers falling asleep while the television played the night prior—nighttime skits and commercials he filtered out until Emmet’s shoulder became the comfiest thing. He supposes that sometime between that point, and the point which he’s just woken up, Elesa came in, and at some other point, he was carted off to bed. It’s nice, though. The blankets make just enough weight over him to soothe ache and anxiety, and it’s warm, and he’s mostly thinking about how nice a cup of coffee sounds right now. Maybe a latte. Something warm. He shuts his eyes again.

The light is surprisingly yellower when he wakes up again. There’s still a warm weight on both sides of him, but it feels different than before. It stretches over him, too, more than just the weighted blanket that’s been added on top of him. He peeks an eye open to find Eelektross slumped over him, his large head curled near Ingo’s shoulder and his similarly large eyes shut as he snores. Ingo snorts, trying to shift to his back with the weight over him, without waking Eelektross. He does after a moment, settling once again, only for Eelektross to huff and fix one, tired eye on his face. Ingo smiles, just a little.

Wriggling a hand free, he pats Eelektross’ forehead, a path well pet and well loved.

“Good morning, you gigantic eel.”

Eelektross trills, nuzzling into Ingo’s hand.

“Mm, yes,” Ingo says. “I’m sure that definitely did not alert Emmet that I am awake, meaning I can’t fake any more sleep. Thank you Eelektross.”

The eel gives a happy sniff.

Ingo snorts.

Typical.

The door cracks open a moment later, the wide eyes of his brother peeking through. He raises his eyebrows, looking over Ingo and Eelektross still in bed. It comes with a little head tilt, something Ingo knows is indicative of an Emmet with a question.

“Sleep well?” he asks. Ingo nods.

“I think so,” he says. “I didn’t realize I’d be carried to bed when I fell asleep.”

“Ah!” Emmet says, eyebrows raising. “I made sure you stayed asleep when we carried you in. You’re a very deep sleeper when you want to be.”

It’s getting better, the gaps in his memory. It’s not enough to trust himself to start his duties as a Subway Boss again, but it's enough to have a few doctor’s appointments and to speak with police and his boss and their coworkers. He’s remembered their pokemon, which is why Eelektross didn’t startle him. And he’s remembered enough for him to fall asleep on Emmet’s shoulder with no care in the world. Enough for life to begin to settle from the chaos. Today is Tuesday, which means Emmet has the day off, and Ingo can tell, even as he reaches to wipe sleep from his eyes, that Emmet is still in his pajamas. He opens the door a little wider, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Ah,” Ingo echoes. “Was it Elesa’s idea to sleep in your room rather than my own?”

“It was,” Emmet concedes, smiling. “But I am Emmet, and I make a very good pillow.”

“You are Emmet and you are a very clingy sleeper,” Ingo says, letting his eyes shut again. Emmet makes a startled noise.

“Go-Go, don’t fall asleep again,” he yaps. “Your breakfast will get cold.”

Slowly, Ingo opens one eye, looking at his brother in the doorway. Eelektross snuffs into his shoulder, wriggling off of him. He grunts as the eel’s weight shifts off, leaving him free, but cooler.

“What’s for breakfast?” he says, watching Eelektross wriggle off the bed and toward Emmet. Emmet opens the door a bit further, takes a step back, and hefts the eel into his arms, knees bending with the weight. Ingo watches Emmet giggle to himself, shifting Eelektross in his arms to better wrap around his neck and arms, weight heavy against him. Clearly.

“Pancakes,” Emmet huffs. He’s still smiling, something almost infectious.

“Alright,” Ingo sighs.

“I also cut some fruit.”

“I’m getting up,” Ingo grumbles, rolling onto his side before he peels himself up and into a sit.

“I think Elesa left her nice coffee creamer, also.”

“I’m already up, Em,” Ingo snorts, trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to convince me.”

Emmet laughs again.

“Just adding!” he says cheerily, wobbling off toward the living room. In the open doorway, Ingo can see the sprawl of their living room and kitchen, lit by yellow daylight. Ingo sighs, stretching his arms above his head, twisting around. When the room settles, he stands, and he realizes that the room is warm around him. Emmet must’ve turned the heat on, and it must actually be working. He hums as he combs his hair back, wandering into the bathroom to wash his face.

When he finally makes it to the kitchen table, Emmet is sitting at the table, scrolling on his x-transceiver. He’s changed into a cream-colored, high collared sweater, his hair held back with a small headband. Eelektross is lying across the couch, head resting on the arm. There’s a plate of pancakes sitting in front of Ingo’s seat at the table, and a half-eaten plate in front of Emmet. He looks up as Ingo sits, raising his eyebrows.

“Good morning,” Emmet says. He nudges a cup of coffee toward Ingo. It’s a light brown color—likely the way that Ingo likes it. It helps they like their plain coffee the same way. If it were any other type of coffee, Ingo’s certain there would be some big disagreement—type of milk and way of prep and iced versus hot. But Ingo takes a long sip of hot coffee and nearly sighs in relief. Whatever fancy creamer Elesa buys really does make a plain cup of coffee so much better. He sits, nudging Emmet with his foot under the table.

“What are you reading?” he asks, gesturing with his fork to Emmet’s phone. Emmet holds it up.

“Article on a new electric rail system in Galar.” 

Ingo tilts his head, nodding along.

“Interesting. Any good?”

“Very efficient,” Emmet says, nodding along. He eventually pulls back, setting his phone face down on the table and returning to his pancakes. He takes a large bite, and through it, says:

“Maybe Gear Station should get some upgrades.”

Ingo snorts.

“We’re already quite efficient,” he says. “Do you think our trains could be quicker? Easier to board?”

Emmet shrugs.

“Wishful thinking. They’re already automatically driven, so there isn’t much more, but maybe longer cars to hold more passengers. Our trains are quite small.”

“Sounds expensive,” Ingo says, drinking his coffee. He pulls apart his stack of pancakes, poking at them with his fork.

“Maybe they’ve already got an upgrade in the works,” Emmet says. “It’s been a while since we’ve had an all-staff meeting. Perhaps we should inform the director.”

“Especially since I’ve returned and have about three years to catch up on, mm?”

Emmet smiles. It’s a bit tight, though. Ingo glances away, biting into his tongue. Should’ve kept that thought to himself.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “Though I promise you that not much has changed in the last three years.”

Ingo hums. He believes it, that nothing much has shifted. It’s hard to say, obviously, considering he wasn’t there to see it for himself, but his brother was never the type to lie without a reason, and this certainly didn’t have a good one. He takes a large bite of pancake and finds them still warm. It’s a quiet breakfast, between pancakes and coffee and Galvantula sleeping underneath the table. Emmet eventually finishes his food, shoveling large bites of pancake into his mouth as quickly as he can. Ingo watches him swallow with surprising difficulty, reaching for his cup of coffee. It takes a moment for Ingo to stomach the rest of his pancakes. Having this much food is a luxury he had not often afforded a month prior. His stomach still wasn’t used to it.

“Where is Elesa?” Ingo asks after a beat. Emmet talks through a mouthful of pancake and strawberry and maple syrup. 

“Mm, she had four battle appointments today, but she’ll be back around. Probably before two.”

Emmet is the first to finish, setting all his dishes together as he stands. He moves around Ingo as Ingo finishes, collecting dishes and setting everything in the sink. As Ingo stands to pass him his plate, he asks:

“Did you have a plan today?

“Mm?” Emmet hums. “No, not particularly. Why? Is there something you wanted to do?”

Ingo frowns, face pulling.

“Well,” he starts. “I was thinking—”

“Ah,” Emmet interjects. “Your first mistake—”

“I was thinking,” Ingo continues, narrowing his eyes. “That it might be a good idea for us to visit Elesa. I need to ask her for a new coat.”

“Mm!” Emmet startles, turning toward him. His face brightens. “That’s right! You do need a new coat. Good thing she’ll be over later, mm?”

Ingo nods. He fetches his coffee mug, pouring another cup of black coffee to balance the sweetened dregs. He leans back against the counter right as Emmet goes to hand him a dish to put away. They work in tandem for a moment, pausing as Ingo works to finish his coffee.

It’s a slow morning, 8:45am, and Ingo gazes back at his bed with longing.

It’s just. When’s the last time he had such a good sleep, right? On a bed that soft? He’d gotten so used to tatami mats and the grass and canvas laid out on the ground and here was a bed, with thick fluffy blankets and several large pillows and another person taking up space. It was very—stop it, Ingo—it’s comfortable. He hands Emmet his coffee mug.

“Ingo,” Emmet says.

Ingo hums. His eyes have drifted to the couch. Maybe standing is a little hard today. He should sit, shouldn’t he?

“Is my brother still up there?” Emmet asks, tapping Ingo’s head. Ingo startles as he does, turning to him.

“I would hope so,” he says. “Otherwise I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Not here, obviously” Emmet says. He finishes rinsing Ingo’s mug, setting it top down on the drying mat. “Though I’m not entirely sure you’re all there right now, are you?”

“Trying,” Ingo hums. “Too much going on.”

Emmet hums, a bit of a laugh showing through.

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I won’t,” Ingo promises.

“I don’t believe you,” Emmet says, shutting off the sink. The clean dishes sit on the rack, dripping water. Emmet wipes his hands with a dish towel. “You know, you should be resting if your engine isn’t working at full capacity. Rest is very important”

“Can’t be a well oiled machine with nowhere to go,” Ingo says, folding his arms. “I don’t understand why I don’t have the energy to move anymore.”

“Does the why matter?” Emmet asks. He’s leaning against the counter now, a mirror to Ingo, like he often was to Emmet. It was a natural progression—one following after the other, a mirror, a shadow, a doppleganger.

“It matters a little,” Ingo shrugs. “It matters to me. It gives me a reason.”

“Your reason is that you’ve gone through a lot,” Emmet says, pushing away from the counter. He scoops up his x-transceiver from the table, moving around it and through the apartment as he talks. “Your reason is that your body is playing catch-up with the world around you.”

“Maybe,” Ingo huffs.

“I am Emmet,” says his brother. “I am tired. I don’t sleep well. Do you think it’s my fault that I’m tired and don’t sleep well?”

Ingo grits his teeth. He hates this part—ever since they were little, Emmet would flip this hypocritical card, showing Ingo exactly how stupid he was sounding. It was good, for the most part, because Emmet was right and next time Emmet did the same thing, Ingo could follow suit with that card. But it was so annoying watching it now, watching Emmet throw open the blinds and shimmy open the window for the fire escape. A tinged-cool spring breeze filters in through the open window, tossing the curtains aside. Emmet keeps moving as Ingo thinks, the gears in his head turning slowly, still dulled with sleep. 

“No,” Ingo says shortly, watching Emmet rearrange coasters on the coffee table, setting game controllers back into their docks. “I don’t think anything is your fault.”

“Well now you are just flattering me, Go-Go.”

“Don’t say that flattery never got anyone anywhere,” Ingo says, pointing at him, waving his finger. Emmet laughs.

“My point is,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “You’re allowed to rest. We can figure out the steps from there, right? Even if we’re sitting on the couch to do it.”

Ingo sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Even if I fall asleep?”

Emmet nods, still smiling a little.

“I will wake you if you do.”

Ingo huffs out a laugh, feeling the edges of his mouth quirk up. As Emmet sits on the soft, corduroy couch, Ingo feels himself pulled forward, as if recalled, to sit beside him. He brings his knees up as he settles into his familiar spot between the back and arm of the couch. 

“Do you promise you’ll shake me awake?” Ingo says, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Emmet scrunches his nose.

“Yes,” he says, knocking his knuckles into Ingo’s knee. “I do. But I’m going to watch Alakazam! so you can think without my talking.”

Ingo nods. The television hums to life quietly in the background.

Emmet always watches Alakazam! at 9am. At least, when he can catch it. Ingo watches the last few minutes of the previous game show, something quiet and low despite the flash of colors and excited spread of energy. As the show starts, he watches Emmet’s face shift, that serious pull to his mouth and the furrow of his eyebrows that Ingo only sees when they’re battling. To see that spark again, not knowing how long it’s been gone, turns a question in Ingo’s mind.

“Emmet,” he says.

“Yes, I am Emmet,” Emmet says. “You are Ingo. What do you need?”

“I think I've got an idea of what I want to do today.”

Emmet turns his head a bit, looking at Ingo mostly out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flick back and forth between Ingo’s face and the television, waiting for his program to start.

“Mm?” Emmet asks. Ingo smiles a bit, a laugh stuck behind his teeth.

He sees the glint in Emmet’s eye before he even asks his question.

“What about a pokemon battle?”

[wardenswateringhole]

I would love a little drabble about taking care of a sick Ingo (BW Ingo or PLA Ingo, not picky!). He'd hate being unable to take care of the reader but he secretly likes being taken care of, even if he doesn't want to admit it at first. ;w;

(While I do have something already written here, I think this does call for a couple of more flavorful bits. The rolling storms and pollen allergies actually helped in writing this one. lol.)

SUBWAY BOSS INGO

Ingo groaned as he tried to get out of bed. His head was heavy and muscles were sore. His voice was distorted from nasal congestion. Ingo still rose, slowly and painfully. His uniform was put on slowly as he braced himself against the edge of the bed. A loud sneeze sent him tumbling backward onto the bed and brought you running into the room. He was a sight. Sprawled spread eagle on the bed with his shirt buttoned lopsided and his pants on one leg still.

He flailed weakly like a turtle attempting to right itself after being flipped onto it’s shell. You already had your phone out and was calling Emmet. Ingo would not be coming into work today. Emmet read you loud and clear despite Ingo’s slurred protests in the background.

You helped Ingo undress and get back into bed as he continued to complain and whine. He was fine! You were overreacting! He needed to get to work! People depended on him to get things done! He was tucked in gently, not strong enough to actually fight you. You shushed him and rubbed his fevered forehead. He seem to almost purr and lean into the gesture.

“Does you head hurt?” You asked. He nodded silently, still savoring the sensation of your hand massaging his skull. You chuckled over how that was all it took to shut him up.

You left him to rest and with promises of soup and medicine. Ingo protested weakly once more, much like a child who had to miss a much anticipated field trip. His head was laid back limply against the pillow and his eyes were drifting closed before you even left the room.

You woke him later with soup you had made and medicine. You helped him sit up and sat the food tray in front of him. He knocked back the small cup of bright orange syrup before diving into the soup. You wondered how that didn’t make the soup taste bad.

“I can’t taste anything anyway…” He answered with his blunted goopy voice. “But I appreciate this very much dearest…”

You turned on a show you both liked and sat with him as he ate. Soon the bowl was empty and put aside to make room for cuddling. He grunted against your chest. “I shouldn’t be near you… I could get you sick…”

You rubbed your fingers through his hair and shushed him once more. “It would be worth it.”

Ingo’s eyes opened and looked up at you. They looked so tired and pitiful but still shined with that familiar look of love he would give you all the time. “Thank you taking care of me, my love. I will be returning the favor ten fold later.”

He put his head back down and wrapped his arms around your torso tighter. “As soon as the room stops spinning…”

----

WARDEN INGO

This could not be happening. Calaba had given him a look as soon as he began sniffling. Ingo had insisted he was fine and went on about his duties, despite Calaba warning him he would regret not resting then and there.

He regretted not resting then and there.

He rose at the sound of knocking at his door. That’s right, you were supposed to come by today. You were both going to go enjoy a day by the river. He wrapped blanket around his shoulders and answered the door.

The man looked like death warmed over. His normally bright and alert eyes looked like they were trying to slide off his face. Despite his insistence that he was fine, you managed to force your way into his home and ordered him back to bed.

Ingo awoke suddenly. He didn’t even realize he had drifted off. His home was filled with the aroma of warm food, which he could only get a faint hint of. But he recognized it. It was something you had told him was a favorite comfort food. His stomach grumbled in anticipation for the food, but some part of him felt bad. He was the one to usually cook for you…

It wasn’t long before you had a bowl ready for him. You served him his meal and took yours as well. A book was taken from a small shelf. A book you had both been enjoying together. You read to him between bites as he ate. Your voice was nice to listen too, and the embellishments you put on the descriptions of the scene were amusing, silly voices and all. Something bothered him though. He was usually the one to read to you…

The food was finished and dishes cleaned. Ingo hated watching you clean everything without being able to help out at all. Any effort to help was met with a stern warning that he would lose his legs if he got out of that bed. All he could do was watch as you cleaned the dishes and tidied up his living area. That was his job, not yours.

“Dearest. Please…” His voice warbled out, weak and croaky from sickness. “Come here.”

You did as he asked. He took your hand and rubbed his cheek into your knuckles. “I love you to the moon and back. Thank you for taking care of me so well…” His face looked up at you so pitifully. “But please… take a break… Join me for some rest?”

You couldn’t say no to such a sad pleading request. He scooted over to give you room. You both spent the rest of the evening cuddled in bed and just enjoying one another’s company. Ingo would never say it out loud, but he felt that was better than a trip to the river any day.

[blaiddraws]

Whumptober day 25: Lost voice

back at it again with fic. two days in a row!! rip emmet tho. lol

> 1000 words

under the cut, or read here on ao3

Emmet shivered, pulling his coat tighter around himself. The ends fluttered in the wind where they weren't weighed down by snow or torn off completely by the wild pokemon he'd encountered.

The cold tore against his skin, a sharp painful wind that felt like blades of ice. The snow was deep, reaching up to his knees-- far deeper than he'd ever seen. 

He had absolutely no idea where he was, or how he'd gotten there.

Everything about this sucked.

It had already been a bad day. Too many unpleasant passengers, too much paperwork, not a single trainer making it to his car on the Battle Subway. He was completely and utterly mentally drained by the time he was able to close down for the night.

And now, he'd suddenly been transported to what felt like a nightmare land. Completely unfamiliar, the wild pokemon were far too aggressive, the environment actively hostile to survival. 

He didn't even have his pokemon! He'd put them in the PC to rest before he took everyone home. But never had the opportunity to do anything past that, because he'd been taken to some dragons-forsaken blizzard hell land.

(He tried verrry hard not to think about the similarities to what happened to his brother. Did Ingo get sent to somewhere as hostile as this? The same place, even? Would he have even survived?)

It was all so overwhelming and stressful and frustrating it, embarrassingly, made him want to cry. But he couldn't, because his tears would only make the cold worse. 

And so, without any idea what else he could do in this situation, he continued to trudge forward through the snow.

He kept on walking until his extremities were alarmingly numb, hoping that there were humans somewhere nearby and he hadn't been sent to the middle of nowhere. It wasn't like he knew how to survive in an environment like this! The coldest it had ever gotten for him was winter, and on the peak of Twist Mountain. Neither of which were anything like this frozen wasteland. 

He growled in frustration, fruitlessly rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm his ice-cold fingers, before quickly giving up and tucking them under his armpits. He couldn't do anything about his nose or ears, and he didn't even want to think about how his toes were faring. He needed to find some kind of shelter soon, or he wouldn't be surviving. Especially with how the wild pokemon were acting. With his luck, they'd find him shivering next to a measly fire and figure him a nice easy meal. 

Why they were so aggressive, he had no idea. Maybe it was a sign that there were truly no humans in the area -- if they'd never seen one, never been socialized, their aggression would make sense. He suspected. He was not an expert on the behavior of truly wild pokemon.

After a while stuck in his thoughts, he realized he had stopped walking entirely, and was just standing in place. He cursed at himself, and started walking at a faster pace than before. If he was spacing out bad enough he forgot to keep walking, things were definitely not looking good.

And then.

And then!

Much to his relief and joy, as he rounded a particularly tall snowdrift he caught the unmistakable glimmer of a light in the distance.

Something bright and warm colored, completely unlike something a creature native to this climate could naturally produce.

Without hesitation, he altered his course slightly and made a direct approach to the source of the light, increasing his pace even more -- the relief and hope of seeing the light was particularly rejuvenating.

It wasn't long until he could see things more clearly. A campfire! With tents! And best of all, people sitting around it! Real, human people! 

He'd never felt so happy to see another person when he was in such an overwhelmed mental state that he was. He grinned, big and wide. Even with the stress, it came easy with the amount of relief he felt.

They must have seen his approach, or heard his hurried footsteps. Suddenly, one of the individuals jumped up, letting out a wordless shout of alarm that caused the rest of their group to whip their heads around and look at Emmet.

Only… rather than. whatever he might have expected. the people then ran to hide, or pulled out weapons and called their pokemon partners to their side.

What? Wait, what? 

His steps faltered, then slowed to a stop all together as one individual in particular stepped forward, spear pointed directly at Emmet's heart, even from the relative distance. Not far enough to reach him, but he was confident they could throw it and their aim would be true.

They shouted something, certainly words. For a moment, he thought he had just completely missed comprehending what they said, with how mentally and physically drained he was, but as they continued to speak he realized they were speaking in a completely different language entirely. 

That was. not good.

He tilted his head, letting out a confused noise. Perhaps they could be able to understand his plight? No, that wouldn't make sense. But if he himself tried talking in his own language, maybe then? 

He just wanted the spear to Stop being pointed at his heart. It was. quite uncomfortable.

He held up his hands, and tried to speak. 

But all that came out was a pained, wheezy rasp, something awful and horrible even for his bad days. But this was definitely one of the worst days ever, so it wasn't particularly surprising.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect of getting the others to understand him. In fact, it seemed it was rather alarming -- not that he blamed them. It was definitely a horrible noise -- as the individual with the spear stepped forwards and jabbed it towards him, effectively pushing him away without touching him.

He whined, upset and confused, but it did little to sway the others, and their aggression did not lessen.

There was no way he was in the world he'd come from. Not with every pokemon and human being so aggressive. Pokemon, he could understand, but humans? It just did not make any sense. It wouldn't fit in his understanding of the world he came from.

He tucked his hands back under his arms, giving up on the peaceful gesture from before. His smile faltered, but he fought to keep it up. He needed to seem friendly! 

He rrrealy did not want to get sent back to that horrible snow and ice. He would certainly perish.

Despite their reactions, he stopped moving backwards and instead pointed at the fire. He tried making a pleading noise, but it clearly didn't come across well, as the person with a spear seemed to get angrier.

They shouted at him, loud and vicious, and jabbed the spear at him close enough that it would have stabbed him if he hadn't moved away in time. Even then, it nicked him in the arm, easily slicing through his moderately reinforced coat.

Not good! 

He tried one last, desperate attempt at speech, tears gathering in his eyes as everything threatened to bury him in an overwhelming wave of everything.

And surprisingly, it must have done something, based on their slight hesitation.

But it was only slight, giving him just enough time to dodge another swipe of the spear. The tears began to fall, and the person in front of him growled at their hesitation.

A moment later, it seemed as if they'd come to a conclusion of some kind, their countenance relaxing --

Before they quickly flipped their spear around and whacked him in the head with a blunt end.

(The last thing he saw, an instant before he blacked out, was a dark silhouette in the background, quickly approaching, and a comfortingly familiar voice.)

[archersxartxblog]

Ingo slept heavily on the flight from Snowpoint to Mistralton, and Emmet couldn't have been happier seeing his brother finally getting some proper rest without being hooked up to various tubes and machines. after nearly a week of tests and speaking with the international Police Emmet was finally allowed to take his brother home, along with two surprise passengers. In all honesty, Emmet still wasn't sure what to make of that situation let alone the idea of him being an Uncle. Ingo had barely gone in depth about where he had been let alone the story about how he ended up a father of two. then again, did that story even matter? his brother was home, and if they made his brother happy then that was good enough for him. he just hoped he could be a good uncle to them. Emmet watched as the sun slowly started to set, casting the inside of the plane in bright yellow and reds, Mistralton city appearing on the horizon. he turned away from the window, the odd feeling of being watched hanging over him as he looked towards his brother, there he could see, pressed to his twin's chest, a little face peaking up at him, with on wide curious eye. This was Fjord, right? the Youngest? He honestly had no clue as to how old the boy was, though some of the Nurses as Snowpoint hospital had speculated he was at least 18 months of age. Slowly Emmet leaned forward, just a bit, seeing the boy's older brother, Cabel, still tucked into his father's arm, just as asleep as Ingo was, being watched over by Chandelure, whom was just as curious about her trainer's offspring as he was. So why was Fjord a wake? Suddenly the plane rumbled slightly, hitting a bit of turbulence as they started their decent. Emmet quickly grabbed the seat in front of him, trying to steady himself while the Plane evened out. he looked back at his brother again, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw his twin still snoring away. but that relief quickly turned to panic when he heard a slight whimper. Quickly, Emmet leaned back into his seat, his eyes once more on the child in the purple sweater, seeing the tears starting to whelm in their eyes. "No, no" he whispered, leaning in close, if Fjord Started crying then Ingo would wake up for sure. "You do not want to walk up Daddy, do you?" Once more the child's one visible eye was upon him, watery, sad and not looking wholly convinced by his uncle's worlds. "I know, Flying is not my favourite either, it is verrrry shaky, and it makes my ears pop." he continued on, wiggling his fingers in view of the child, trying to provide at least some form of distraction. "Normally, we could take a train back to Nimbasa city, but-" He cut himself off as Fjord suddenly let go of Ingo and reached out to grab one of his fingers. slowly a smile spread across his face, as he watched the child examined his hand, no longer bothered by any bumps or noises caused by the plane. something oddly endearing about the scene. Finally Fjord looked away from his hand and back up to his face. "See Train?" Emmet blinked in surprise, surprised by sudden Words Spoken, before smiling once more. "I will take you to see some trains, yep, once we are all settled back home."

[hiddenendings]

i confuse instinct with desire - isn't bite also touch? (Blanktember Day 22)

A/N: This is meant for Day 22 of Blanktember and I just forgot when day I was supposed to upload it! I wrote this a very long time ago for @quicken-silver and I am now posting it here for you all to hopefully enjoy! If you haven't read "eat your heart out" yet then I HIGHLY recommend it. It's still a work-in-progress, but goddamn is it good. (As well as all of their other works. Go read them! Also, check out some art Ventigh did for this same AU for "eat your heart out" it's so good!! I took the title directly from their post, so, uh, hope you don't mind ventigh!!)

Summary: After a long separation, Ingo and Emmet, along with their deamons, have finally been reunited. Ingo wants Emmet to feel just how much they missed him.

[title and deamon names+AU inspired/taken from quickensilver's "eat your heart out"]

Notes: Post-PLA reuinon with the twins being in an established relationship before the separation. Deamons!AU

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50293963

                   Check out my writing commission info here!

                                          ***

[Setting: Quicken-Silver’s “eat your heart out” AU. Daemon!Blankshipping in Hisui with Emmet having found Ingo a few days ago and the two are now waiting for Akari/Rei to finish the Pokedex and go home. It is winter and Ingo, Emmet, and their Daemons are in Ingo's tent in the Highlands. It is night and a snowstorm has begun.]

Carefully shutting the door, Ingo made sure any seams were tightly sealed before he shook his head. "It looks like the storm might be worse than initially expected. It's possible we'll be here for a day or two until the cliffs are safe to travel again." Turning to look back at everyone, Ingo saw Sayoko and Jayla gleefully chasing each other around the tent and over furniture and causing a ruckus — not that Ingo could blame either of them. He hadn't seen Jayla so lively in years, although he supposed much could be said for himself as well. 

Thankfully all of their pokemon were resting in their pokeballs, not willing to deal with the cold. Much of the same could be said of his brother, who was sitting on the bed and whining loudly, “Why is it so cold! You said this was the Highlands, not the Icelands. I am Emmet and it is cold.”

“I told you it was still cold up in the mountains,” Ingo said, more amused than frustrated. It was so nice to see his baby brother squirming around on his bed and whining and complaining, playing up the act of brat even with flushed cheeks and breathless little giggles that slipped out between words. 

If he had any doubt of Emmet’s true good mood, they were wiped away as he saw Sayoko trill in delight, her and Jayla tumbling past in a mix of fur and feathers. 

“Big brother doesn’t care anymore,” Emmet ‘huffed,’ trying to hide his grin behind the Pearl Clan hoodie Ingo had given him to stay warm. There was something overwhelmingly nice about Emmet tucked away in Ingo’s clothing and Ingo’s bed and looking at him with those flustered cheeks and dazzling eyes. “He’s going to leave us to freeze, Sayoko!”

As if to spite him, Sayoko wiggled her way under Jayla, poking out from under warm fur and purring loud enough to drown out the howling winds outside. Ingo felt as if the snow and wind could never touch him again as his baby brother collapsed into giggles and shouted about his ‘traitorous daemon.’ 

Shaking his head, Ingo moved to tend to the fire. As reluctant as he was to look away from Emmet’s warmth and joy, he’d rather his baby brother stay warm. It would only get colder as the night went on, after all, and Emmet deserved to be comfortable and frankly, in Ingo’s opinion, pampered, after all he had gone through. 

Getting ready to stand back up, Ingo froze, almost literally, as two hands wiggled under his tunic and undershirt and pressed against the bare skin of his back. Really, they were less hands and more blocks of ice. “See! I told you it was cold, Ingo!” Oh, so baby brother wanted to play the brat, today, huh?

A quick tussle and Ingo managed to get Emmet pinned to the floor, unable to help the twitch of his lips as cackling laughs turned into a breathless whimper that sent Emmet’s cheeks flushing a beautiful pink. While Ingo had only intended to tease Emmet for just a while… it had been so long since he had seen Emmet pinned underneath him and squirming, cheeks flushed pink and giggles tumbling out of him as he cried up at him, “Big brother! You’re being verrry rude!” 

“Am I, now?” Ingo’s lips twitched as Emmet quieted down with a small whine, still squirming, but only in a way that drew him in closer, everything about him open and soft and willing- 

Ingo glanced up briefly to see Jayla had pinned Sayoko to the ground, paws on both of her wings and tongue lapping at the feathers around her neck. Sayoko was limp and content under her, trills as loud as Jayla’s purrs. At least he wasn’t the only one who had given in. 

“Big brother?” Sitting back, and delighting in the whimper that earned him as he pulled away, Ingo let Emmet pout for only a few moments before he was scooping his brother into his arms. A quick readjustment and they were sitting in front of the fireplace, Emmet melting into his arms. 

“My baby brother is cold, is he? I suppose I would be irresponsible if I didn’t correct the situation,” Ingo mused, tugging at Emmet’s arms and lifting them into the air until they were straight. Emmet made a questioning noise, starting to lower them before Ingo gripped him harder, something like a growl leaving his throat, “Stay.”

Emmet froze at the same time he went limp, his baby brother loose and willing in his arms, absolute trust in that gaze that looked up at him. “Good,” Ingo chuckled, grinning as Emmet shuddered. “Did baby brother miss hearing his big brother praise him and tell him how much of a good boy he is?” 

Oh, it was still so easy to break Emmet down. Still, he had a plan he was intent on fulfilling before he went too far off the tracks. Working his hands under Emmet’s tunic and shirt, Ingo pushed them up until he was pulling them off completely, lowering Emmet’s arms after he did so. “You know, Emmet, there’s a very quick way to get warm. While these clothes can keep in heat, they don’t generate it.” As he spoke, Ingo ran his hands down pink skin that was quickly warming up thanks to the fire they sat in front of. “Fireplaces, however, are very good at warming a body up quickly.” 

Ingo took both of their hats off and set them aside with the other clothing, not resisting for even a moment as he nuzzled his way close to Emmet’s scalp. A deep breath brought in the scent of his baby brother, still with that lingering scent of shampoo he always loved using. So long apart and his memories still so scattered and broken and yet that scent… It was so familiar. So good. 

Emmet whimpered, Ingo directing himself back onto the tracks as placed a quick kiss to Emmet’s temple. “Of course, it’s no good if the body gets too warm too quickly.” Hands sliding back down Emmet’s body, Ingo lingered in every place he could, rubbing warmth into the shivering body and pausing at places where his sweet baby brother had grown so thin… He would definitely be fixing that. 

“So first, we have to remove everything else.” Ingo took his time in divesting Emmet of the rest of his clothes, caressing each inch of skin revealed to him and lingering until he remembered each sensitive spot that turned his baby brother into a squirming, broken mess in his arms. “Big- Big brother please-!” Oh, he had missed that. 

“No need to beg, baby brother,” Ingo chuckled, bending down to kiss at the side of Emmet’s neck, the whimper turning into a shocked moan when Ingo bit down. As he did so, he removed the last of the clothing, Emmet naked and warm and excited in his lap. “I’ll give you everything you need, after all.”

Catching a glimpse of Emmet’s hand dropping to touch himself, Ingo’s hands shot out to grab Emmet’s wrists and hold them still. “Relax, baby brother. You were cold, after all, weren’t you?” Ingo chuckled at the whimpering complaint, kissing at Emmet’s temple again.

“This is cruel!” Emmet whined, trying to squirm and move. Ingo didn’t let him, pressing down and curving over him to lock him further in place, tangling their legs together until Emmet’s were pushed down. “Ingo-!” 

“I missed you, you know.” Emmet went still in his grasp and Ingo hummed appreciatively, pulling Emmet back into his grip fully, lowering their arms, but still keeping his grip on Emmet’s wrists. “Every day, trying so hard to remember anything about my life, and always feeling such an empty space to my side.” 

Emmet managed to squirm enough to look at him properly, face cloaked in understanding and empathy. “I know.” Ah, but of course he knew. Emmet’s side had been empty too, after all. “I know, Ingo.”

“I know you do.” Ingo blew out a sigh, letting the dark feelings go with it. He nuzzled at the side of Emmet’s head, pressing kisses to the skin until he heard giggles. “Almighty Sinnoh I missed you,” Ingo muttered, trailing the kisses down until he was playing with Emmet’s neck, his sweet baby brother groaning and tilting his head to give him even more space. Dragons, he wanted to drive him to ruin. 

Emmet had been so good for him, searching and working so hard to find him and tirelessly running forward just to get back to his big brother’s side. He wanted to pay all of that back. He wanted to spoil him. To pamper. To protect. To indulge. He wanted to devour. 

“Emmet,” Ingo whispered, pulling Emmet in towards him, always closer, as close as he could get. His clothes were still in the way, but that could come later. To let go of Emmet now would be the end of him. “Emmet.” 

“I missed you,” Emmet whimpered, shuddering in his grasp, still so warm and yielding, no defense at all against his big brother’s hungry grasp. He was as pinned beneath him as Sayoko was under Jayla, unable to move and yet there so voluntarily. “I missed you.” 

Ingo wanted to tear his baby brother apart. To dig into him and devour every inch, claim him until every part of his sweet baby brother was his. He wanted him limp and crying and collapsed in his grip, dizzy with pleasure and filled with love. Ingo wanted to indulge and there was nothing to hold him back. After all they had been through, after how long Emmet had been kept from him, there was nothing to hold him back. 

“I want to feel it.” As soon as Ingo said the words, the desire sunk in with claws and teeth. “I want to feel it,” Ingo repeated, nipping at Emmet’s skin and grinning at the startled whimper. “Let me feel you, darling.” Ingo didn’t bother to raise his voice, feeling the brush of warmth and fur against his back as he simply repeated, “Darling.” 

They were both so hungry, and Ingo knew they had reached the very end of whatever patience and propriety they had left as Jayla fluidly twined through their arms and settled in Emmet’s lap. 

Emmet gasped and jerked forward, Ingo holding him tightly in place and closing his eyes at the rush that flowed through him. This was no brief touch or loving reunion. This was Emmet squirming and moaning in his grip, euphoria flowing through him as he whimpered and whined and was filled with such love. 

Ingo could feel every piece of him, overflowing with love and devotion and desire, a blazing heat that swept through him only to be followed by jolts of lightning, hot flashes of heat and lust and that resounding, echoing call of hunger. His baby brother’s soul was a predator as well, after all.

Ingo loosed his grip on Emmet’s wrists, groaning softly as Emmet shot forward to wrap himself around Jayla, hands burying themselves into her ruff and face burrowing against that warm fur. 

His darling ocelot purred and chuckled, pressing closer to their sweet star and licking at the few tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “Oh, my sweet, how we missed you,” she cooed, nuzzling close and letting Ingo feel every scrap of his brother. 

“Shall we show you?” Ingo asked, panting around the words and just barely registering how out of breath he was as Emmet only moaned, hands clutching closer at Ingo’s soul. “I want to show you, Emmet. Let me show you. I want you to feel me, baby brother.” 

A whisper, the barest edges of a voice, almost lost in the distant howling winds that Ingo had all but forgotten. The softest please. 

“Dearest,” Ingo crooned, placing a kiss against that flushed skin that was now so warm and soft. He spoke to both of him, shifting a leg only far enough away to provide a perch. Sayoko was there in a flash, Ingo wasting not even a second as his fingers dug through warm feathers, angelic and soft. He didn’t dare let go of Emmet, his shaking baby brother who was crying and gasping, but he moved enough to bring Sayoko closer. He moved enough to wrap an arm around her, clutching onto her feathers and placing a kiss between her eyes. “Oh dearest,” he whispered softly, just for her. “How we missed you.” 

More, Ingo decided. He needed to give them more. Releasing angelic feathers and moving his hand away, Ingo shushed Emmet quickly at the sob that left him. “Just a moment, my love, just a second sweet thing, my dearest star, hold on just a moment.” 

Even as he soothed his sweet baby brother down, Ingo was quick to rip off his own shirt and tunic, uncaring for once if anything teared, simply throwing it away before ushering Sayoko closer, letting the sweet thing hop and flap until her talons were braced on his shoulders, her body limp and melting against him, wings touching as much of his skin as she could. So much like her human, he mused. 

As soon as she had pressed against him, Emmet had gone just as limp and melting, panting sharply and caught between him and his darling Jayla. “Do you see, baby brother?” Ingo asked, groaning softly at the emotions that flowed through them both, caught and lost equally between breathless purrs and melodic trills. “How much we missed you two? How much we wanted you back.”

He knew what Emmet would feel. He would feel his big brother’s obsession with him, that possessive, protective urge that made him want to lock Emmet away until the world could never find him again. Until he was Ingo’s and only Ingo’s. He knew by the way Jayla had pressed closer, teeth pressed around his neck like she so often did with Sakoyo, this time sharp enough to draw pinpricks of blood. He knew Emmet felt every part of those dark, hungry urges as he gasped and cried out, squirming between them and looking up at Ingo with an expression that was already wrecked. It was wrecked, but it was euphoric, filled with awe and want and the same consuming hunger. 

He felt talons dig into his shoulder, piercing the skin and gripping to where it felt like he would never get away — as if he wanted to. The pain was nothing compared to the euphoria that was given to him. He never wanted to leave this spot. 

“You found me, baby brother,” Ingo chuckled, hands returning to sliding across warm, flushed skin that now carried a sheen of sweat. He wanted. He wanted. He kissed lightly at the back of Emmet’s shoulder, holding him still as Jayla’s teeth dug in more, pulling out a wailing cry. “And now I won’t let you go.” 

He was going to devour.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Whumptober Day 22: Withdrawal

I’m not entirely sure what happened here. This was supposed to be silly, but we took a left somewhere.

TW for allusion to withdrawal, obviously, and an in-universe stand in for opium/opium poppy. That being said, the withdrawal has nothing to do with said opium stand in, it’s just a side detail.

---

Half a year into resuming operations, Emmet thought things had been progressing quite well. The Hisuian Pokemon had adapted beautifully to the Subway’s conduct, Chandelure was beginning to moderate her possessive behavior, and the young Sneasel had reached an age where it wasn’t constantly poisoning everything it touched.

So of course this was when they’d be thrown for a detour. Arceus forbid the Battle Subway maintain its schedule for three months at a time.

To his simultaneous credit and discredit, Ingo was trying to make it work. It was easy enough to hide his shaking hands in a formal tuck behind the back, and very few were able to read him well enough to recognize the tells that his muscles were acting up. If that had been all, Emmet might even have let him get away with it, but of course it wasn’t. Insomnia was followed by fatigue, a loss of appetite backed by an intermittent nausea, and anxieties that had otherwise been settled came back in full force. There was no denying that something was wrong-- the only problem was that, no matter what combination of terms he looked up, he kept getting the same result.

It was a known fact that some Hisuian-era medicines relied upon pepaver somniferum, which was later renowned not only for its ability to enhance a medicine, but also its addictive compounds. Ingo had recognized the plant and its applications-- had known how to craft a remedy for a Pokemon from it-- so he’d certainly had contact with the flower at some point, thirteen months prior.

The odds that he was experiencing withdrawal more than a year after the fact were ridiculous.

And yet, when he returned from yet another visit to the doctor, that was their best guess. Blood tests were clear, but the symptoms sounded like withdrawal.

Emmet dropped his head into his hands and made a vague, frustrated noise.

“It should run its course soon enough,” Ingo said from the other side of the kitchen, considering what they had on hand for dinner preparations. That much was a relief; it meant that, tonight, he wasn’t too nauseated to consider eating. “Regardless of what it is, it isn’t contagious; so long as I’m not putting anyone at risk, I can handle it.”

“I have no doubt that you can handle it. You should not have to endure a mystery ailment because your doctor is incompetent.”

“You’re being too harsh; it’s a complicated situation, and he’s hardly to blame for not being well versed in an archaic form of medicine.” There was a beat, and then, “We haven’t used the spinach up, have we?”

“We definitely do not have any more.” Emmet said, just for the heck of it, and finally tilted his head up to rest on his left hand.

Ingo rolled his eyes and gave a dubious little hum as he went to check for himself. “If you’re not opposed, we can make stuffed mushrooms.”

“Yep. Sounds good.”

The kitchen eased into a comfortable silence for a few moments. While Ingo rounded ingredients up, Emmet moved from the table to the sink. As much as he appreciated the initiative involved in getting dinner started, he didn’t trust his twin with a knife right now; it just wasn’t safe when the tremors had no known trigger. He didn’t mind cutting vegetables, anyway.

The refrigerator door closed, followed by a minute intake of breath.

“I’m permitted to take something now that the tests have concluded, correct? I haven’t forgotten anything?”

“Look me in the eyes and ask that again.” Emmet said, and pointedly did not turn to accommodate. Behind him, Ingo sighed; it was more fond than it was exasperated, but it was getting closer to a 50-50 split than he preferred. The pain must have been worse than he was letting on. “You are allowed. Yep. Headache or muscular?”

“The former.”

“Then you want the little blue bottle.”

There was a huff of a laugh and he felt a hand on his shoulder as Ingo passed by, “I only needed the reminder the first few times, but thank you.”

His footsteps made it clear of the kitchen, but from the sound of things, he got waylaid by Sneasel and Galvantula before making it anywhere close to the medicine cabinet.

He would be a bit, then. Still, there was no reason for Emmet to put his part of meal prep off when he was already here. He was dimly aware of the sounds of a playful kit in the hallway, but had long since become desensitized to it; the noises only went on for a few minutes, anyway, mellowed by virtue of being aimed at a human caretaker. He ignored them in favor of washing and then disassembling the mushrooms.

It was only upon hearing his name that he looked up.

His brother was carrying Sneasel in one arm; the opposite hand held the blue bottle of painkillers, but also boasted a bandage that hadn’t been there five minutes prior.

“I believe I know what’s going on.”

“I should hope so.” Emmet said flatly, “You have certainly been poisoned enough to recognize the signs.”

Contrary to the response he’d expected, Ingo hastily turned his head to stifle a laugh. “Yes. Well.”

“Now you get to take more medication.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to tell you.” He hefted Sneasel higher. On instinct, she reached to anchor herself, but curbed the habit at the last second, “I haven’t taken anything for it, but my headache is beginning to ease. That makes me believe withdrawal may have been the correct diagnosis.”

For half a second, Emmet thought his brother had lost him, then the connection between the two ideas clicked. “No. I am willing to believe that your system adjusted to being poisoned out of necessity. I refuse to entertain that you became so used to it that its absence is causing withdrawal symptoms.”

“I don’t see why you find that so far-fetched; Pokemon adapting to their conditions is a well recorded phenomena, even if you disregard the variants that… no longer exist.”

“It is not about the science.” Emmet said, and turned back to his task with a renewed vigor.

And it really wasn’t. The theory was fine-- Emmet just didn’t want to follow up on the implications it presented. How many repeat poisonings did it take to reach resistance? How much venom did a person have to be exposed to before they found themselves immune? Whatever the answer to those questions, it had to have paled in comparison to the quantity needed for the system to actively believe itself dependent. On poison.

Across the room, there was a muted click and the scampering of clawed feet on tile.

“I’m sorry,” Ingo said, stepping carefully across the space, purposefully allowing his footfalls to ring out, “I thought you would find it amusing, but clearly that’s not the case.”

With more gusto than strictly necessary, Emmet chopped the next mushroom’s base, and it skittered across the counter top. Wordlessly, Ingo reached out to stop it, and then tossed it to Sneasel, who scampered to grab her treat before it could bounce off of the floor.

“Hisui is still finding ways to hurt you. That is why I didn’t laugh.”

There was a noncommittal hum to his side and, just as Emmet realized he’d run out of mushroom to prep, a peeled shallot was rolled into range. He pounced on the opportunity it presented.

“I’m not sure what to tell you.” Ingo eventually said, depositing the freshly washed greens onto the counter, and picked up the garlic in their place, “It was a harsh place, but not without its own brand of kindness.”

“I have only seen the former.”

It was immediately met with a challenging, if gentle, “That’s not true,” but Ingo was kind enough not to put together an entire counterargument when Emmet didn’t want to be convinced right now.

“We’ll speak about it another time.” He eventually concluded, and stopped his anxious passing-of-the-bulb from one hand to the other, breaking off two cloves, “For now, you clearly need to vent your frustration. Would you like to destroy the garlic, as well?”

Yes. He would very much like to destroy the garlic. And the poison in his twin’s system, the man who’d ripped them apart in the first place, and the unjust god of Pokemon who’d allowed it to happen.

But, today, he would settle for the garlic.

[coramatus]

Under the City Streets (part 7)

Emmet and Volo meet a trio of witches and learn firsthand that smoke inhalation is no laughing matter.

For an explanation of how they got here, read part 6

When Emmet wakes up, it’s to an unfamiliar ceiling and an unfamiliar futon, stripped down to his underclothes. He feels awful, like something is weighing down his chest and squeezing his skull. He starts to get up but is racked by a terrible coughing fit. Someone hurries to his side and thumps his back with surprising force for such a small hand. An elderly voice encourages him to keep it up, he has to cough it out or he won’t heal right. He’s almost ready to cry but with a final hacking cough, he spits out a wad of bitter phlegm. He is repulsed to find he just hacked up a glob of dark gray mucus. A cloth wipes his mouth for him and he looks up to see a little granny fussing over him. She hands him a cup of hot herbal tea, encouraging him to drink. He quietly does so, all while getting a better look at the person at his side.

A little old woman in a bright blue knit earflap hat smiles back at him. She is verrry small, her aged face lined with wrinkles. A small red dot sits on the center of her forehead. She asks how he’s feeling and introduces herself as Yu Lake.

Emmet tries to speak but it comes out as a wet, wheezy crackle before he breaks down coughing again. It leaves him light-headed and he barely realizes he’s falling until Yu catches him.

As she lays him back down, Emmet is surprised to find his necktie bound around his burnt arm as a makeshift bandage. He remembers the blistering, scorched wounds from where the burning Edelwood oil clung to him.

Catching him staring at his arm, Yu tells Emmet that they were out of bandages and that his neck cloth seemed like a good temporary solution. He quietly rubs at the burn, wincing at the stinging pain, but also feeling some sort of soothing poultice dressing underneath.

Yu advises him to keep a careful eye on it. Her voice grows serious as she tells him he’s been burnt badly in more ways than one, leaving him in delicate condition.

Emmet’s not sure what she means, but he does feel a lot more tired than before…

The last thing Emmet remembers was fire… a lot of fire… and… and…

Wait.

Where’s Volo?

Emmet starts to look but is pointed to a basket where a sooty, shivering Starly is sleeping, his beak tucked under the back of a wing. A weird glass dome hangs over the basket as some sort of steam treatment is administered, like a rudimentary nebulizer.

Relieved, he sags in exhaustion, laying back in the futon. Emmet’s voice is weak and small, but he manages to ask, “How did… we get here?”

The old woman shrugs, simply telling him that a concerned hunter found them and brought them here. Did them a huge favor really, they could easily have died without their medical care. Care that they are not finished administering.

This sets off a knee jerk reaction from Emmet. Wait, he can’t stay-! His brother! Ingo—!

Emmet tries to get up to leave, but collapses onto all fours, coughing violently. He feels faint as the room spins around him. His lungs aren’t pulling in enough air and he’s shaking like a leaf. Tears of frustration form in his eyes as he curses how weak he’s become. He can’t let his brother get far, he has to catch up to him, to convince him to come back with him. He’s so close…

As he struggles to stay on his wobbling hands and knees, the blue-hatted old woman suddenly rushes back in with two more women at her side. Together, they usher him back into the futon, insisting that he rest, he needs time to heal.

Wheezing weakly, Emmet reluctantly does as he is told, quietly accepting another cup of herbal tea as the old women fuss over him. He notes that they look similar, like triplets. One of the new women introduces herself as Wei Lake. She wears a yellow knit beanie hat and her eyes seem to be closed all the time. The third woman wears a knitted magenta hat with odd decorative dangly things hanging off it and introduces herself as Mi Lake. Together the three of them refer to themselves as the Lake Witches, which seems to amuse them. They then insist that Emmet needs rest and start arguing with each other about his treatment. In spite of the noise, Emmet finds himself dozing off.

Emmet spends his time sleeping off the effects of the fire. He’s given anti-inflammatory herbs and a lot of water as his lungs slowly clear themselves. Healing is painfully slow but there’s little else he can do.

Volo fares less well from the fire, his feathers singed and lungs full of smoke. He’s not much more than a sad shivering ball of feathers that can barely keep upright. Even his speech fails him as he’s so out of it that he can only make Starly noises. Emmet is always gentle with him, making sure to give him extra care and attention. To Emmet’s amusement, this slightly brain-damaged version of Volo seems to love this and enjoys cuddling against Emmet, often flopping belly first against him and cooing like a happy Pidove.

Sometimes Emmet wakes up crying because of nightmares of the fire and his brother. A few dreams even feature losing Volo to the fire, a fear that is quickly eased when he sees his friend still in his basket upon waking.

As Emmet rests and recovers, he finds himself having other strange and extremely vivid dreams…

Part 7.1 - 7.5

[smallestapplin]

ok hi according to an npc in hammerlocke applins can be given as part of a romantic confession which i think is adorable but since they’re only native to galar that tradition definitely doesn’t exist in unova & i was wondering if you could write the subway bosses being given an applin by the person they like, not knowing what it means until someone tells them and then they have to make a mad scramble to tell you they love you too

Absolutely!!

Asks are open!

-

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🔳Emmet🔳

- you met him when you first moved to Unova from Galar, you had gotten a little turned around and asked him for help. Which the subway boss was more than happy to do!

- Doing his toy solider walk as he lead you through the walk ways. And several thank you’s you left.

- Though you came back once you got use to everything and battled him on the battle carts.

- And he couldn’t help but want to talk! Not only are you a suuuuper strong trainer, you have Pokémon he has never seen before! He had to know more!

- And you two talked until the subway came to a stop. By that time you had exchanged numbers and he begged you to battle him again sometime.

- You two became fast friends. Meeting him outside of work and him showing you around town.

- You even let him in your house to meet all your Pokémon personally! He coos at every last one of them.

- Almost a year into this friendship did he realize he was in love with you. He is a straightforward man but he wanted to make it special!

- The subway boss didn’t know you were planning something of your own when you went back to Galar to visit family for a week.

- Emmet was house sitting for you in your time away. Just as excited as yamper when you walked through the door.

- Happily listening to you talk about your trip.

- “Oh! I also got you something!”

- The expressive twin perks up a bit more before you hand him a small applin.

- With stars in his eyes he looks between your and the small apple Pokémon.

- “It’s an Applin, the mean a lot in Galar-“

- Emmet didn’t give you time to finish before he squealing and cooing over the small pokemon.

- “I love them! Oh I’m spoiling them, oooooohhhh I a cute bow and ribbon is in order!” Silver eyes glance at the over clock before he winces “ah Ingo is going to be mad I’m late, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer, but you rest up and we can spend time together later.”

- With a hug he is gone. And you sigh, there goes that idea, and just when you had the confidence to confess.

- Emmet carries the Applin, whom he affectionately name Smokey after a kitchen incident, everywhere he goes like he does his joltik’s.

- Emmet is very happy to see his spider children like and get along with the apple Pokémon.

- It had been a week since you’ve given the Applin to him.

- He didn’t know a damn thing until he was battling a tourist from Galar who happened to see the little guy poking his head out from Emmet’s pocket.

- “Aw so cute.”

- Emmet’s grin widens “right!? My dearest friend gave them to me.”

- The trainer looked confused for a minute “you mean partner….right?”

- Now it’s Emmet’s turn to be confused as the Galarian deadpans “you’re telling me you didn’t accept the confession but took the Applin? That’s just cold.”

- “I’m sorry I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

- The trainer sighs “in Galar giving someone an Applin symbolizes affection story goes of you give it to someone you’ll be together forever, nice, ain’t it?”

- The trainer laughs at Emmet’s jaw dropped face. The second the subway doors open Emmet is running out “Gotta go! THANK YOU!”

- Everyone moving out of the way of the speeding twin, Smokey tucked away safely as Emmet doesn’t slow down, if anything he is speeding up once he is nearing your house.

- He flings your door open, making you jump from your couch.

- “YOU!”

- “M-me?”

- You back up as he speed walks towards you. What did you do? Is he mad? He looks mad.

- You don’t make it far enough away before Emmet grabs your arm, pulling you into his chest and kissing you.

- You let out a surprise squeak. Your face feels like it’s on fire.

- Though he can’t kiss you for long, all that running tired him out. He pulls away panting.

- “I love you and you don’t tell me even after giving me the Applin? I had to find out through a trainer?”

- He breathlessly snorts at your embarrassed expression.

- “I-I was going to tell you the day I gave Smokey to you! Honest! But then you left and I lost my nerve I just, I’m sorry Em.”

- “It’s fine, but I demand cuddles and a date.”

- Laughing you agree. And that’s how you ended up pinned on the couch beneath the smiling twin as he cuddles into you.

- “Did you tell Ingo you’d be here?”

- “……..can I borrow your phone?”

- “Siiiigh yeah sure you nerd.”

🔲Ingo🔲

- you lived in Unova for a few months with your Galar team before trying out the battle subway.

- Ingo wanted to talk after your win because he fell in love with your Coalossal. Who betrayed you and liked the stoic man too!

- You got a few good laughs out of Ingo because of this. He enjoyed seeing your bond with your Pokémon, even if you are playfully arguing with it for being a traitor.

- You’d stop by to battle a few more times before you two officially became friends.

- You happily told him all about your home in Galar and all the sights, even showing him pictures you’ve taken back home.

- You two would swap stories and interesting bits of information about your respective regions.

- And you enjoyed his train facts!

- Though he wants to visit Galar now because he wants to see Rolycolies and Carkols.

- Almost two years and he can say confidently that he has fallen in love with you, but he can’t say it to you.

- He gets choked up and quickly changes the subject.

- He doesn’t want to look like a fool in front of you.

- “Hey Ingo! I um, I want you to have something.”

- He was just about to leave since his lunch break was almost over.

- “What is it?”

- And you toss up a pokeball and in your hands rests the cutest little Pokémon he has ever see.

- “It’s an Applin.” You hand the small Pokémon to him. He takes it with gentle care, he can’t look away from it, it’s so small and cute.

- “I love them, so adorable, I will cherish and protect them with my life, thank you.”

- The dragon grass type jumps up and down a little in his hands.

- “W-well uh I just-“

- You two look over to Ingo’s walkie talkie that statically comes to life and Emmet’s voice can be heard.

- “Ingo some have a bitch who wants to talk to you.”

- Emmet does not sound happy, and neither does Ingo at his brother’s words.

- “I will see you later, I apologize for the abrupt departure.”

- “No worries! Be safe.”

- Damn, you missed your shot.

- For almost a month Ingo and his Applin (that he names sunny) were inseparable. Making a home in the stoic twins pocket.

- Ingo is more happy that his large Pokémon like and are careful with the small baby.

- It wasn’t until he was helping a child find her mother in the station did he ever get a hint.

- Before the child left, sunny poked his head out, causing the little Galarian girl to giggle.

- “Mommy look! An Applin!”

- “Now dear I’m sure the nice man wants to get back to his partner, say thank you.”

- “Thank you Mr subway boss sir!”

- And like that they left a stunned Ingo in his place.

- Partner? Where did they get partner from his Applin?

- When his shift was over he made sure to get off on time.

- At home by 6pm he looks it up. He couldn’t let it go.

- And when he sees the hundreds of search results about how Applin’s are a love confession he was melting in his couch.

- Face in a throw pillow he screams.

- His affections were returned and you didn’t tell him!

- Granted he has no room to talk but still!

- Should he text you? Call you? Should he go over to your house?

- Ingo grabs his phone and texts you ‘are you home?’

- ‘Yeah, what’s up?’

- ‘May I come over?’

- ‘Of course, you have a key, you’re welcomed anytime.’

- Shoes on and Sunny on his pocket he is out the door. Stopping by a flower shop and grabbing a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

- Knocking on your door he waits.

- And once you open it your flushed.

- “Oh my! What’s with the flowers?”

- “They are for you.”

- “They are beautiful, thank you, come on in, I was just fixing up some dinner and-“

- “Why didn’t you tell me?”

- He mentally kicks himself for interrupting you.

- “Tell you what?” Closing the door you hunt for a vase for the flowers.

- “Why didn’t you tell me about what Applins mean.”

- You froze. Shitshitshit did he really have to find out?

- “Is that what you were going to tell me because I was called away?”

- “I-I mean…yeah, I was hoping to anyways.”

- He hugs you so tightly. Your face in his chest.

- “I love you as well, I was too nervous about making myself look like a fool in front of you, please, accept my affection.”

- You grip the back of his shirt laughing.

- “Of course Ingo, how could I not?”

- He stays for dinner. You even make a little side dish for Sunny. And Ingo can’t he’ll but feel like this is where he belongs.

[normalpeopleconfuseme]

You know the photo I’m thinking about when asking this.

Twins (sep) s/o shoving their face into their man’s chest and squeezing them titties.

I live by the tits I will happily die by the tits.

- noodle

I do indeed know the photo very well!

Now let me set the stage for you.

CW: gender neutral reader, fat tit submas, suggestive themes.

You grumbled as you walked home from your job.

Today has been a no good lousy, bad day all wrapped up in one.

First you didn't wake up to the love of your life because he has an early meeting, second you spilled coffee on yourself which made you late to work, third, you've had to deal with your flirty coworker just wouldn't get the hint that you weren't interested in him.

Your day has just been terrible! Now all you want is to bury yourself into the comfort of your husband.

🔲 Ingo

Ingo was in the kitchen when he heard the door open. He was aware of how bad your day was with how short your texts were during lunch so he thought he would take care of dinner for the two of you.

All of the pokemon have been feed and tucked away and all the chores in the house have been done so all you have to do is realx!

"Darling?" Ingo called out as he shut the oven off and walked over to the front door.

As soon as he saw you, he became worried. You're not a violent person but he could sense the anger coming off of you.

"Beloved? I already made dinner so you can relax for a moment"

He didn't like how quiet you were being and it made him more worried.

You looked at him with clear annoyance on your face, he knew it wasn't for him but the daggers in your eyes didn't stop the slight fear.

Suddenly you stood up and marched over to him.

His eyes were filled with worry as he looked into yours, he was worried about even saying something to set you off until...

You rested your head against his chest very gently.

Oh...you just wanted a hug!

Of course that makes sense after having such a hard day you would want cuddles!

He would be a terrible husband if he-

Suddenly your hands squeezed his chest hard the plush of his pecs puffed between your fingers.

Ingo was still for a moment as his face turned bright red as his brain try to restart.

The shierk he held in left his lips as you squeezed harder even pinching his nipples and pulling them hard.

"D-darling?!"

He squeaked out in surpise, you gazed up at him from his chest.

"Its been a long day...and I need my stress balls"

🔳 Emmet.

Emmet knew from how hard you open the door how upset you were.

You had called him during lunch to vent about your coworker constant flirting despite the ring clearly on your finger.

It took ingo and half of the deport agents to stop him from marching down to your work and give that homewrecker a piece of his mind!

But now he's happy that your finally back from work.

Now he can finally brighten up your day with some love and rest that you need!

And what kinda of husband would he be if he didn't provide it?

"Sweetheart! You're finally home! I missed you verrrrry much!"

He stood there with a bright smile waiting for your response as you took off your shoes.

He got grumpy when he didn't get a response.

"Deeearist! I know you had a rough day but please dont-"

He was interrupted once you rested your forehead against his chest, you hands resting on his shoulders.

He smiled brightly at your position. His beloved wants a hug!

He happily wraps his arms around you hugging you tight enough to where you feel engulf.

"Oh my sweet beloved! I'm so sorry your day has been so hard but! You don't need to be grumpy anymore your dear husband is here to-!"

He jumped a bit once he felt you squeezed his pecs and buried your face deeper.

Emmets smile turned into a smirk as you grip tighten.

"I believe I know exactly what you want~"

[leggerefiore]

Weeb s/o getting frustrated with a couple days worth of Ingo not coming to bed on time to work on paperwork. They’re also used to having Ingo help them get to sleep so it’s time to bring out the big guns: if Ingo won’t go to bed on time, the Jotaro Body Pillow will.

Ingo sighed as he massaged his cramping, tired wrist for a moment. He had been hard at work to finish these reports after an incident led to a group people being injured. It annoyed and worried him to no end that this had occurred in his station. Emmet was backed up on the other with actually trying to amend the issue that had caused all of this. This was how they had always handled things, Ingo doing most of the paperwork and handling the press, while Emmet fixed whatever the problem was.

This gave way to Ingo being preoccupied and forgetting about eating and sleeping. You found yourself frustrated, having cooked him meals and tried wrestling the paperwork from him. He had scolded you like a child for that and stayed at the station late the next day in order to prevent you from trying that again. You felt lonely and ignored. Your bed felt so cold at night that it had begun to frustrate you. Ingo was normally there to keep you warm and whisper sweet nothings as you both slowly drifted from consciousness, now he was drowning himself in documents again. It was dreadfully familiar to what it had been like when you first started dating him.

A plan developed in your head as you remembered a certain item that had been tucked away into the depths of closet. A certain buff marine biologist regaining his lost place in your brain. Well, if Ingo was not going to supply the love you so craved then perhaps Jotaro would. You had sat him up on the couch, leaning on the soft item, and waited for the Subway Boss's return from work. You did not even bother a meal that evening, knowing how he had not been eating them anyway.

The door clicked open and revealed an exhausted twin with a heavy briefcase in his hands. His hat was gone from his head alongside his coat from his body; he had likely been in the office unable to even battle a few trainers throughout the day. The bag fell to the floor as he took off his loafers and called a tired, "I'm home." You watched him enter the living room proper and moved past you. He made it all the way to his home office before the bag thumped against the hardwood, and he came rushing back in. "What is that thing doing out?!" his frown deepened with a glare directed at the body pillow. "Dear, I was under the assumption that you had thrown it away! Did you buy another one?"

Shaking your head, you leaned further into the pillow, "Nope! I tucked him away for a rainy day." A rainy day being whenever you felt lonely and underloved, which had been feeling a lot of lately. A bit of a torrential downpour, actually. "He's been keeping me company while you've been occupied with paperwork," you brought a hand to the face of the print. Ingo gasped at the movement. He stomped forward, hands firmly placed on his hips, "I am deeply apologetic that I have been so inundated with work, but I am unsure as to why you turned to such a thing for affection. I would have gladly given you any should you had asked." The way he hissed the word thing was deeply hilarious to you. You would have thought you had been caught cheating rather than hugging a pillow from his tone.

"I tried that, dear Subway Boss, you said one more sheet of paper and then I didn't see you until one in the morning," you recalled an attempt to capture his attention from a previous day which had failed. Ingo grew flustered at that, deeply embarrassed by his shortcoming. The older twin had truly planned on going to bed after that last sheet, but when the rest of the pile was so visibly thick, he felt trapped at the desk. "At least Jotaro will always give me affection unlike a certain somebody," you mocked, burying your face in the pillow. Ingo had enough at the sight of his partner hugging and naming the body pillow like it was a person. "Fine! I'll take a break! Please, just stop that, and get rid of it, too!" the thought of you choosing a pillow over him had completely crept under his skin and sunk its hooks into the tender flesh.

That evening was cooking and eating with your boyfriend then with a long cuddling session on the couch. Him letting you lie your head on his chest while his fingers softly combed through your hair, occasionally massaging at your scalp. A slowed heartbeat beat calmly into your ear as you hummed at the touch of your boyfriend. Ingo felt relaxed as well, finally forced away from the stress the paperwork had given him. Plus, the preciousness of cooking a meal with you made his domestic heart weep. A dish prepared with love from both participants. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before murmuring an 'I love you'.

Good thing you had managed to stash Jotaro away while he changed. What he did not know would not hurt him.

[ingoinghost]

When Ingo gets back from Black City-White Forest, haggard and pale and bruised and confused and sporting a wicked set of newly elongated teeth and an alarming desire for fresh blood, Emmet promptly passes the fuck out. Emmet later awakes on the floor in the living room, curled up with his head on Ingo's chest while Ingo idly plays with Emmet's hair. Emmet is perfectly content to lay there for however long it takes to wake up from this dream within a dream when out of nowhere Ingo says something verrrry odd and verrrry stupid.

"Oh my god. I think I died."

Emmet processes that for a bit. Pinches himself twice. Picks up a nearby Joltik to shock himself with. Then he sits up, looks down at Ingo, and asks, "Oh shit, for real?"

Ingo nods slowly.

"I'm starting to remember... there was a man who looked like me. Specifically like me," he says, when Emmet gives him a look.

"I don't think he was a Zoroark. He wore a tattered grey coat I swear I could mistake for my own. I think he performed emergency CPR on me," Ingo says, touching his sternum with a deepening frown. "But I don't remember any hands pressing down. I don't remember another mouth against mine. Only that I woke up with blood in my mouth, and I don't think any of it was mine."

Emmet purses his lips. Taps his fingers against his leg. Says, "That sounds weird, awkward and unbelievable." Shakes his head in bewildered yet fond exasperation. "But I believe you," he decides.

Ingo almost smiles. And then he winces, because, duh. Jaw wrenched open. Also weird fucking giant-ass Seviper teeth, which, ow. Uncomfortable.

Emmet mulls this new information over. Then he stands and stretches, types a reminder into his xtransciever to read up on emergency CPR and zombies and vampirism and necromancy and weird doppelgangers that can apparently bring your twin brother back from the dead with the unfortunate bonus of an altered diet and a new set of teeth later, and turns and asks Ingo -

"Do you want to watch a horror movie?"

Ingo raises an eyebrow. Then his eyes crinkle with good humour and he snorts.

"Sure," he says. He bares his new teeth in his trademark awkward grin, version 2.0 and fuck you. "I'm only an Other now. Why not watch something horrible?"

They end up huddled on the couch together with their Pokémon, swathed in blankets and getting popcorn and strips of mince Tauros everywhere, from Emmet not really giving a fuck and Ingo trying his best to suck the blood out of the raw meat they had in the fridge, respectively. Haxorus in particular is rather curious about Ingo's new dinner plan, nudging carefully at his face so as not to cut him with her blades. Ingo indulges her by offering up the soon dry-ish lumps of meat, and she expresses her thanks by thumping her great armoured tail hard enough against the ground Crustle is knocked onto his back. How on Earth they managed that, Emmet will never know; he only wishes he could have recorded it.

Raw meat and terrifying revelations aside, that night ends up being a relatively normal night. Ingo is irreversibly different and not much else has changed. Both Subway Masters maintain that Thomas and the Magic Railway is the scariest horror movie they've ever seen, and Archeops steals so much popcorn he gets both a tummy ache and a timeout.

Somewhere in the middle of it, Ingo falls asleep. Chandelure hovers over him, flames bright and burning and dull. Emmet pulls his brother in to rest against his shoulder and cries.

Emmet's face is dry when he wakes up. His cheeks feel as if washed clean by a damp cloth, done so with a gentle and ever-caring hand. The blankets are tucked in around him, and he feels safe.

He swears to himself it isn't because Ingo is gone.

Ingo would never hurt him.

Emmet is right for thinking that.

...

..

.

(In the end, it turns out Ingo isn't a vampire in the traditional sense. Fortunately for Emmet's sanity and unfortunately for Emmet's sense of cryptid curiosity, Ingo isn't even dead. Nor undead, or whatever the Internet wants to call it, though Emmet thinks the Internet is a crock of shit. Talk about a letdown! It's just like with prehistoric Pokémon and spines and feathers and scales, all over again.)

(He's getting off track.)

(Ingo's teeth, diet, and physiology are just like this, now. The Subway Masters wear cloth face masks and scarves made of their respective colours when in public, now. Emmet threatens to break into the local blood bank when they figure out Ingo can't consume non-human blood without getting sick, until they figure out coconut milk and the synthetic blood made for bloodsucking Pokémon like the Crobat and Gliscor lines suffice. It's not perfect, but the supplements for human blood are just suitable enough for Ingo's warped systems that it's also enough to keep him from barfing every other week. And that's funny now, isn't it, that Ingo only eats every other week; drinking a lot all at once and going for extended periods of time without. Just like Gliscor.)

(Emmet still wants to break into that blood bank.)

(Ingo doesn't remember any more about the man who looked like him until he is the man who looks like him. Up until that moment he is spending his time skipping through time, like a rock over a lake. A minute in one decade in one place. And then two in the next. Always another step towards home, always another step farther from Sinnoh. On and on until he is the stranger in grey, standing alone save for Emitter, the ever-loyal ever-smiling Gliscor. On the cliffs of Route 15, Ingo stands, and Emitter flies. Route 15, the only place in the whole of Unova where wild Gliscor are known to live.)

(Turns out that is Emitter's fault. Or rather, as any Pokémon Trainer worth their Salt Clumps should admit, Ingo's fault for letting such things happen. In his defense, he's had other, perhaps more pressing things on his mind. Still. Whoops.)

(A registered Pokémon Breeder himself, Emitter's namesake, though unknowingly so to Ingo at the time of capture, would no doubt find the situation hilarious.)

(Ingo stares at the dead-dying-alivenotalive body of his younger self. Feels the guilt and the shame and the "really? That's what did me in? You've got to be kidding me," for causing the freak heart attack induced by fear and the fall. Wonders if CPR of all things is the right move. Feels the next jump pulling at his soul. Bites his tongue. Stiffens as his insides roil. Realises what this is, and that he won't have to break any bones or breathe for anyone else at all. Prepares to wrench his own jaw open. Steadies himself for five years of heartbreak. Thinks of Emmet. Knows this separation will be over soon.)

(And resigns himself to what he has to do.)

.

..

...

There are many things Ingo never tells Emmet.

Everyone lies everyday. Even does so the twin in white, who may as well be Reshiram's Vassal of Truth. These many things are Ingo's lies of omission, and he does not want to feel ashamed for them.

There are many things Ingo refuses to tell Emmet, but not all of them are things he definitively lists.

No. This... timeline? It is incomplete. It is important, and this is something else.

Subway Master Ingo remembers waking up with blood in his mouth.

Subway Master Ingo remembers the indistinct shape of a Pokémon flying overhead.

Subway Master Ingo remembers...

"...a man who looked like me."

Ingo Nobori Trewyn remembers waking up at home, with his brother at his side and his partner Pokémon hovering overhead. Ingo Nobori Trewyn remembers waking up to a burning hunger and a gutful of blood and a mouth full of too many teeth.

Subway Master Ingo remembers adjusting to the new normal with his brother's support. Ingo Nobori Trewyn remembers existing in an unchanging state of disrepair.

Subway Master Ingo Nobori Trewyn falls through space and time, and Warden Ingo remembers nothing.

(Ingo, brother of Emmet, would never hurt Emmet on purpose.)

(And in the end of ends, the brothers always reunite.)

[kuzann]

Here’s that next chapter segment I mentioned before. It’s incomplete but hey Colress appears and that’s what’s most important. XD This is a WIP so there will be changes between this and the final version, 3.8k words so far.

The Beyonders, Chapter 6 WIP: Connection

It sent him back, reading aloud like this. Back to their childhood, when they would read together with their dad every night…

A sudden pang of guilt and grief lanced through Ingo’s chest, sharp enough to make him stumble on the end of the sentence he’d been reading. He stopped and took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then put a bookmark in the book and closed it. They’d reached a natural stopping point anyway.

Ingo checked his phone and found that the meeting with Dr. Korten was mere minutes away now. Enough time to get himself in order and gather the Pokemon.

“The doctor will be here soon to talk about ways to help Emmet,” Ingo announced. “I don’t want it to be too crowded in here when she arrives, so at least four of you need to return.”

The Pokemon gave Ingo a chorus of affirmations, then huddled together to decide who would stay and who would return to their PokeBall.

Ingo left them to it and tucked the book away in his bag. He took a few more deep breaths, doing his best to let them out slowly; he was nervous for some reason, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps worry that Dr. Korten would have nothing to help them in the end.

A claw tapped him on the knee, derailing his train of thought. Ingo looked up and found that Jack, Socks, Kraton, and Ratchet had volunteered to return to their PokeBalls while Zip and Bore remained behind. Ingo retrieved their PokeBalls from his breast pocket and held them out. Each Pokemon pressed the button to their ball and returned inside.

Ingo put the four PokeBalls away, his thoughts already starting to drift back to the meeting ahead.

Bore rested a digging claw on Ingo’s knee while Zip patted him on the head for reassurance.

“I’ll be okay,” Ingo said. “Make sure you don’t leave any static in my hair,” he added to Zip with a small chuckle.

Zip withdrew and gave Ingo’s hair an appraising squint, then began to paw the lingering static out with a contented glurgle. There was static in Zip’s voice, but it was far friendlier and more familiar than what lurked below the other sounds in the room.

Ingo laughed as Zip circled around him and continued to comb the static out of his hair. “Good job, Zip,” Ingo said once Zip withdrew. He combed his fingers through his hair—Zip had left it static-less but a tad messy—while Zip held his head high in triumph at a job well done.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Ingo stood and turned to it to greet the newcomers. Time to see what Dr. Korten could bring to the table.

The door opened.

“Good morning, Ingo,” Dr. Irdin said as she stepped inside. “Dr. Korten is on her way, but there’s something I’d like to talk to you about first.”

Ingo stiffened. “Yes?” Dread started to settle in; what reason could Irdin have for talking to him, other than a bad one?

“As I mentioned before, Dr. Korten is very accomplished in her field of study and she has an equally-brilliant team backing her up,” Dr. Irdin began. “And unfortunately one member of said team has a bit of a history in this region. You’re familiar with Team Plasma?”

“They caused a lot of trouble a few years back. People got hurt,” Ingo replied. He already knew he wasn’t going to like what Dr. Irdin told him next.

“Yes, that’s them. Colress is part of Dr. Korten’s support team,” Dr. Irdin said.

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Ingo asked, shocked. “Why wasn’t he arrested when he set foot in Unova?”

“He was pardoned by both the global and regional authorities,” Irdin replied. “I looked it up myself this morning, after he turned up in the hospital. He can come and go in Unova as he pleases,”she added, her nose wrinkled with distaste. She sighed. “I apologize for the unpleasant surprise. I would’ve warned you earlier if I’d known he would be involved.”

Ingo paused to take it in, his gaze on the floor to Irdin’s right. Colress had been the one to disband Team Plasma in the end and many of its former members of lower rank had tried to find a way to atone for what they’d done. He couldn’t deny that people could change, but... Colress had been responsible for a great deal of the harm Team Plasma had caused in their second attempt at conquering Unova. It was hard to believe that someone like him could change so drastically.

“Has he done anything bad since then?” Ingo asked finally. “Did he actually change at all?”

“Who can say with someone like him?” Dr. Irdin replied. Not the answer Ingo had wanted. “But he hasn’t been up to anything villainous, as far as I could find. He helped the Aether Foundation clear up some dimensional anomalies that cropped up in their main compound. That’s the largest incident he’s been involved with lately.”

“Dimensional anomalies?” Ingo asked as his full attention snapped to her. “Like rifts, or something?” He clasped his hands before him in an attempt to keep them from shaking.

“Exact details are hard to find, but apparently Team Rocket was responsible. Colress helped thwart them and then returned the compound to its normal state afterward.”

Ingo’s eyes went distant as his heart began to race. Paranoia crept in. Could Colress have been involved with— No, no. He was too noticeable, and Unova would not soon forget what he’d done in the past... If Colress had turned up months ago to collaborate with Lucius, people would’ve spotted him. Word would’ve gotten out, especially in a city as crowded as Nimbasa. The Gym Leaders and Elite Four would’ve been keeping tabs on him after they found out he was in the region. Ingo would’ve heard about it if Colress had been around back then.

All the same, he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking.

A set of gleaming claws settled gently on his clasped hands, followed by Zip’s wide paw.

Ingo let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Irdin watched him, her brows drawn with sympathy. “He doesn’t have to be involved if you’re not comfortable, I’m sure Dr. Korten can make-do without him. I can talk to them about it for you before you even have to meet with them.”

“I’m used to being uncomfortable,” Ingo muttered. This was nothing compared to what he’d endured in Hisui, and it was nothing compared to what he’d gone through after the accident. Working with Colress was a discomfort he could endure, as long as it got results. He took a deep breath and looked up at her. “This is about helping Emmet. If Colress being involved improves our chances then I have to do it.”

“If you’re sure,” Irdin said, a hint of hesitance to her tone. “Still, if you ever want him removed from the team I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Ingo said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll let them know that you’re ready.” Irdin left him again.

Ingo took another deep breath and let it out in a long sigh as he tried to calm himself. He let his hands drop, Bore and Zip lowering claw and paw as he did so.

Think about the positives… Colress was brilliant, questionable morals aside. If he was fully invested in helping to achieve their goals then he would be a valuable ally.

And as for his apparent knowledge of other dimensions…

It still had Ingo on edge, after his experience with Lucius. It was unreasonable to think all dimensional scientists were in cahoots with each other but his anxiety refused to listen. Lucius had seemed genuine in his desire to help too, and Ingo had been flung into the past without his memories because he’d given him his trust. He would have to be on his guard around Colress, at least until he had some guarantee that he meant no harm.

Ingo turned and walked to Emmet’s bedside. He brought a little order to Emmet’s limp hair as he thought about the coming introduction.

Strange that Colress would be involved with coma research, given what Ingo knew of his past scientific activities. Had he given up on his previous goal of drawing out the full power of Pokemon? Surely coma research had nothing to do with that...

A knock at the door broke Ingo’s train of thought. He turned to face it as it opened again.

The first woman to step through was unknown to Ingo, as was the younger woman who followed directly behind her. The third person to enter was—yes, the hair was unmistakable—Colress himself, clad in a significantly heavier coat than before but still wearing the same relaxed smile as he had in the pictures Ingo had seen of him. Irdin brought up the rear and closed the door behind them.

“You must be Ingo,” the first woman said with a welcoming smile as the group approached him. She was on the stout and round side, with curly brown hair that perfectly framed her face. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Dr. Korten.” She offered a hand to him as soon as she’d closed the distance between them.

“Nice to meet you,” Ingo said, allowing courtesy to take the lead as he returned the handshake. He glanced briefly at Colress, who already had his attention on Emmet.

“I believe a few apologies are in order,” Korten said gravely as she released him. “One of our team members severely understated his history in this region before he tagged along. It was an unpleasant surprise when we found out the full extent of it, to say the least.”

“I was pardoned some time ago,” Colress said cooly, his attention returning to the present conversation. “I didn’t realize there would be so much trouble over it.”

“He understated it on purpose,” the second, younger woman corrected him, her striking green eyes briefly flicking to Colress. She was slimmer than Korten, with medium-length lavender hair that curled at the ends like still-furled ferns. She wore a white doctor’s coat over her clothes as Korten did.

“Must you tell on me like this, Esme?” Colress asked with a touch of faux despair to his tone, though the smile remained unmoved. “You know it’s not polite to eavesdrop on my thoughts like that.”

“You made things needlessly complicated for us,” Esme replied with a small frown.

“We apologize for not being aware, and for not giving proper warning,” Korten continued. “Colress has helped us a great deal in our efforts, but if you’re not comfortable having him on the case given his history—”

“He can stay if he’ll help,” Ingo said, cutting her off. “Sorry,” he added, upset with himself for being so rude. He’d heard the same from Irdin, it was already covered ground, but that was no excuse to treat Korten like that. “I’m still a bit rattled from the news.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Korten said with a nod. “If you have any concerns going forward please let us know as soon as possible.”

“Shall we get down to business?” Colress asked. “If you’ll have me, of course,” he added with a shrug at the flurry of annoyed glances.

Ingo fixed him with an intense stare as he again weighed his options. “If you’re here to help Emmet you can stay,” he said finally.

“Well, I am indeed here to do that, so I will,” Colress said, as if this should’ve been obvious. “I’d like to get a few readings, see if we’re dealing with something we’ve run into before,” he added, holding a hand palm-up to show what appeared to be a sensor on the glove’s palm. “I don’t even have to touch your brother to get them,” he added.

“Fine,” Ingo said with a curt nod. He turned to follow Colress as he walked to the bed, positioning himself so he could keep an eye on him while still talking to Korten.

“You may have heard that our backlog of patients went down recently,” Korten said as Colress began to take his readings by passing the palm of his hand over Emmet. “It turns out that a significant number of those coma cases were caused by some manner of interdimensional interference. We had no idea until Dr. Colress joined our team, he’s been helping us with that and with the device we use to bring people up to full consciousness.”

“So you’ve dealt with cases like Emmet’s before?” Ingo asked, daring to feel a little hopeful.

“No case we deal with is exactly the same, but it does have some similarities,” Korten replied. “Particularly the lack of psychic or ghost interference paired with the unknown energy signature, and the unsuccessful waking attempts.”

“Has your brother attempted any interdimensional travel recently, by chance?” Colress asked as he tapped away on the console on his wrist.

“He hasn’t,” Ingo replied. “He’s been in a coma for months.”

“Interesting,” Colress said as he made another pass over Emmet. “The energy levels suggest it was more recent than that...” He then turned and held up his hand so his palm—and the sensor—faced Ingo. “And you?” Colress glanced at the holoscreen above his wrist. “You’ve been quite the restless traveler, haven’t you?”

Ingo took an involuntary step back. “I’m—so you’ll believe me?”

“But of course,” Colress replied. “I’m no stranger to interdimensional travel, or to interdimensional travelers. What’s really interesting is that one of the energy signatures showing up on you shows up on your brother as well. And when he hasn’t even done any travel himself. Very interesting.”

Ingo looked around at the others in the room—Korten and Esme wore expressions of sincere attention while Irdin’s was one of shock—and put a hand on Bore to steel himself while Zip took the other in one paw. “I didn’t have any hope that Emmet would get better, so a month ago I tried to go back in time to change what happened so he never got hurt at all,” he said, his eyes on the floor.

“So you pursued Celebi?” Colress guessed as he typed something into his wrist panel. “Meddling in the timeline isn’t an easy thing to do...”

“No, I tried to do it without Celebi. There was someone helping me, a scientist by the name of Lucius Moor. He told me it could be done with rift travel.” Ingo looked up at Colress. “Do you know him?”

Colress’s smile faded, his brows lowered in a troubled expression. “I’ve never heard of him. And besides that, I’ve never heard of someone successfully using interdimensional travel to go back in time...”

“I don’t remember the day it happened, but I ended up in Sinnoh, back when it was still called Hisui.”

Colress gave him a look of sincere shock. “A bit far off the mark,” he said. The troubled expression returned, and his gaze wandered the floor as he thought aloud. “Time travel via rift... Did he go to a parallel universe, or dip back into our own after stepping outside of time?” Colress muttered as he tapped away at his wrist panel. “Perhaps it’s impossible for two same-universe versions of a person to exist simultaneously at any point in the timeline, resulting in the missed target...” He looked up at Ingo again. “And you said this happened a month ago? How did you get back?”

Ingo took a deep breath. Here came the really unbelievable part. “Arceus escorted me back here to my appropriate time,” he replied.

“So the stronger bit of residual rift energy is from Arceus itself?” Colress asked, leaning a little closer in his eagerness.

“Yes. It brought me back the night before yesterday,” Ingo replied.

“Incredible!” Colress said, his smile having returned. “Making a note of that...” he added, tapping away on his wrist again. “And you’re sure it wasn’t responsible for the first time this happened? The energy signatures aren’t identical, but they’re similar enough…”

Ingo paused. “If I knew I’d tell you,” he said, trying to remain calm. The implication was a frightening one. Could Arceus be toying with him? Had his stay in Hisui been some sort of game to it, or some complicated scheme to get him to babysit its youngest shard?

“I’d be delighted to find out,” Colress said as he made another note.

“You’re taking this better than I thought you would...” Ingo said slowly. He did his best to shove his worries about Arceus’s intent to the back of his mind for the time being.

“Arceus’s existence isn’t terribly surprising. Its status as any sort of universe-creator, however...” He paused and looked up at Ingo again. “Huh. Your brother has residual energy from your first bit of travel on him, but not from the second one...”

“The waking attempts stopped roughly a month ago, according to the information Dr. Irdin shared with us,” Korten cut in. “And that was when the odd phenomena intensified as well. Could the change in Emmet’s condition be somehow connected to that first bit of interdimensional travel?”

“It’s possible,” Colress replied. “But I have to do more analysis before I can draw any solid conclusions.”

“They’re connected,” Esme stated.

Korten and Colress turned to her. “You’re sure?” Korten asked.

Esme nodded. “The brothers share a psychic connection. I can see it now.” She pointed at Ingo, who stared at her in surprise—even Caitlin hadn’t been powerful enough to see it outright.

“But neither of them are listed in the psychic registry,” Irdin said.

“It’s recently awakened,” Esme explained. “It’s not refined, as it would’ve been if they’d been trained to use it.”

“And when do you suspect this connection awakened?” Colress asked. He was more lively now, clearly excited by the unfolding developments.

“You should ask Ingo,” Esme replied, turning her attention to Ingo. “It’s his power.”

Colress gave Ingo his full undivided attention. “Yes, please tell us more,” he said. It was the most open he’d been since walking through the door, a raw enthusiasm that almost bordered on overwhelming. “Actually, one moment,” Colress said, holding up an index finger. He brought the nearest chair over, drew a slim laptop from the messenger bag he wore, and sat down with the open laptop at the ready. “Now, tell us when this connection awakened,” Colress said, looking up at Ingo again.

“Why don’t we all have a seat first?” Korten suggested.

They each found a chair and arranged themselves in a rough circle near Emmet’s bed.

“Please tell us as much as you can about this connection you share,” Korten said once they were seated. “It may make things easier for us due to the methods we use to bring our patients to full consciousness.”

“How so?” Ingo asked.

Colress fidgeted in chair, plainly annoyed at the delay in acquiring the answers he sought.

“We use a special device called the Bridge to connect the patient’s mind with that of a close loved one,” Korten began. “And with Esme’s help we then guide that loved one through correcting whatever issue is preventing full consciousness. It’s a sort of dream-like inner world that you’ll be traversing once we get it running.”

“Oh.” Ingo relaxed a little; perhaps this whole affair would be easier than he thought. “Emmet and I became connected through our dreams after I went through the rift the first time. I’ve talked to him twice while dreaming since I got back.”

Irdin stared at him in plain amazement. “Why didn’t you mention this?”

“Disbelief,” Ingo replied, bringing a hand to the side of his head. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea. I only started to realize it because Caitlin pointed me in the right direction yesterday.”

“How did you first notice this?” Esme asked, fixing him an attention that while intense was nothing but polite.

“While I was trapped in Hisui without my memories, Emmet would call out to me every night in my dreams. I didn’t remember who he was at the time, but I knew he was important. And then one night his voice started getting weaker, I was so afraid of losing him that it got most of my memories to snap back together.” Ingo paused to look at Emmet for a few moments, then returned his attention to the group. 

“You two must share an incredibly strong bond for his mental voice to reach across time and space like that,” Colress said as he typed away on his laptop. “Psychic power alone wouldn’t be able to do that normally. Would it, Esme?” he added, glancing at her over the top of his screen.

“Not by itself,” Esme confirmed. She returned her attention to Ingo. “So it was your bond with your brother that got your memories to return? And you mentioned you’ve been talking to him in your dreams now that you’re back.”

Ingo nodded. “I found out a few things about his condition too, I think,” he said, doing a quick mental sort of what he could and couldn’t tell them—anything that drew attention to the ArcWatch was out of the question, especially with Colress involved.

The rest of the circle listened eagerly, making Ingo a tad self-conscious. He glanced down at the floor to give himself a bit of reprieve from their stares.

“Have you ever encountered any static entities in your cases? Like, blobs of static that squirm around when they move?” Ingo asked, looking up at them. “And can you hear them right now?”

“I can,” was Esme’s immediate reply. “It makes the inside of my head itch.”

“So one of the energy signatures belongs to those,” Colress muttered as he typed.

“I think they’ve been there since before I went through the rift,” Ingo said.

“So what are they, exactly?” Irdin asked. “And why isn’t there more information on things like this?” she added with a sigh and a shake of her head.

“We only just discovered the link between some of the coma cases and extradimensional phenomena,” Korten replied. “With Colress’s help, in fact.”

Colress’s smile widened a tad. “I initially joined Dr. Korten’s team because her methods for curing patients were relevant to my main field of research,” he added. “And it was a very happy little stroke of luck that other dimensions are an area of interest for me as well.”

“As for whether we’ve encountered static entities specifically, no. But we’ve encountered things that are similar to them, I expect,” Korten said, picking up Ingo’s first question.

“If they’re like the entities we’ve dealt with before then I can extract and destroy them if they haven’t embedded themselves too deeply already,” Colress added. “And if they are embedded we’ll just have to do a bit of work to root them out first.”

[b3k1720]

Christmas stories with Jacob ✨🎄

London December 24, 1875

@nemo-my-name-forevermore @ct-5445 @thedragonqueenfan @assassins-and-hidden-blades : I thought you guys might like this 🥺👉👈

Snow fell gently over the bustling British city, falling in to the muddied streets and sending a chill through the frosty air.

With the sun setting and the world getting colder, store clerks were closing for the Christmas season.

Pubs were opening up their doors with warm light and Yuletide cheer for both the merry and the drunk to enjoy.

Fortunately that would not be the case for one assassin.

“Mama when is daddy coming home?” A little girl asked as she pressed her small hands up against the frosted glass, looking out in the whitened streets expectantly.

“Very soon Amelia, darling now come away from the window before Jack Frost nips your nose” Rebekah announced with a smirk as she took the pouting little madam away and sat her next to the fireplace.

“Do you think daddy will tell us a story before bed?” Her other child, a small boy with whisps of browny blonde hair piped up as he slipped down from his fathers large armchair to the floor, letting his body flop out of exaggeration.

“We shall have to see my darling but he might be exhausted from work” their mother answered with a smile at her children’s innocence.

“Now come along supper is ready so go clean those little hands and faces”

It was not long after dinner had finished that the door to the little two story house opened, unexpectedly slamming from the wind; snow flying in the house before quickly slamming close again.

Jacob stepped in, barely taking off his hat and scarf before squeals and stampeding of small feet could be heard coming towards the front room.

“DADDY!”

Quickly the two small children latched on to the large assassin, barely letting him go.

“Ah there’s my little rooks” Jacob chuckled as he picked both of them up and pulled them to his chest.

“Oh Emmet, Amelia your both so warm, have you been by that fire all day?” He laughed as both the small children giggled.

“Daddy your very cold!”

“Let go!” They both cried out in hellish little giggles.

“Why should I your both SO warm and toasty!” Jacob chortled as he tickled them, causing more squealing to ensue.

Rebekah quietly came to see, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Alright you lot that’s enough for now or you won’t fall asleep” she announced in a jokingly warning tone.

“Quite right my love” Jacob answered with grin as he let the children down.

Now being able to take off his coat, top hat, scarf and weapons hanging them on the stand before pulling off his large boots and putting them by the door.

“Now my darlings was there something you wanted to ask your father?” Rebekah announced motioning to Jacob as he sat down in his chair by the open fire.

“Really and what would that be?” He grinned as he motioned them to come climb up on the arm rests.

“Well...daddy...perhaps could we have a Christmas story?” Amelia asked with large begging eyes.

“Please daddy” Emmett begged with earnest, both the children loved hearing stories from their father, he always made them so exciting!

“Hmmm well I’ll definitely tell one if mother dearest would put the kettle on” he joked with a wink towards his wife.

“Already on it darling” She chuckled before heading to the kitchen.

Jacob then carefully pulled his children up on the large chair with him, holding them close to keep them warm despite the fire.

“How about I tell you a story my father would tell me and Aunty Evie each year when we were children” he announced with a warm smile.

“It’s called the night before Christmas”

“Does this story have Saint Nick daddy? Amelia asked with curiousity.

“Yeah it has to have Santa!” Emmett cried which caused the assassin to chuckle.

“Of course it does, why would I tell it without the big fat jolly man?”

Both the children looked to each other and nodded, both satisfied by this answer.

“Here we go nice warm tea for everyone before bed” Rebekah announced gently before carefully handing a cup to her husband and placing the tray near the chair before grabbing a cup for herself and sitting close by.

Everyone settled in, Amelia and Emmett cuddling in to their father while Rebekah leaned closer to listen.

“Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;”,

Jacob started to recite the verse he had almost memorised from Ethan

“The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

“Oh!” Both Amelia and Emmett exclaimed before their father chuckled and continued.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!

On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

The children couldn’t help but giggle as Jacob made the motions of rustling reigns, neither could Rebekah stifle a laugh.

“As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

“Like jelly!?” Emmett laughed before Amelia shushed him with such a serious expression before their father could continue, she was far to enthralled with the story!

“He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;”

With this line Jacob also did wink towards his children who were now starting to yawn despite themselves.

The next verses were now more quite, as to lull and calm them....

“He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night...”

Jacob ended in a whisper as now both little Amelia and Emmette, his two little rooks were both dozing off.

“Alright my darlings time for bed” Rebekah hushed gently before taking the smallest of them from their fathers arms.

Laying Amelia over his shoulder Jacob followed his wife upstairs to the children’s shared room before placing them in bed.

“Sweet dreams my little rooks...” Jacob murmured softly, giving them both small kisses on the heads, tucking them in for the long winters night...

[jasperwhitcock]

01. AN IMPOSSIBILITY

i stumbled upon a post you can read here from @bellasredchevy​ from like a year ago where she expanded on an au where bella & edward switch places where bella is a vampire in the cullen family and edward is a human. we’re all social distancing (or we all SHOULD be unless u have work so if ur out partying take ur ass home boo) so i had time to kill & i thought i’d write a chapter hehe.

It was an impossibility for me to have missed the presence of my adopted brother entering the room. What with my astute senses, my supernatural sensitivity to everything – the microscopic details of the book page’s porous beige paper, the length of his shadow stretching onto the floor beneath the novel in my hands, cast from the golden light of the hallway, the smooth, feathery finish of the paper under my frozen fingers, the whooshing sound of air caressing his mountainous stature as he appeared, the soft yet heavy thud of his feet against the floor – a sound nearly imperceptible, the impossible to place scent of something like bergamot, white cedar, rose, and sandalwood perfuming the room at his appearance. An impossibility, and yet, my focus was so invested in the words inked on the page, enamored with a story I’d read a hundred, a thousand, a million times, that I found myself shocked when the novel surprisingly ripped down the spine into two perfect halves before my eyes, another one of my novels that he had plucked off the shelf barreling towards my face. He had thrown the other book with such force that in the process of his attempt to grasp my attention, he knifehand-striked a book I had taken from my mother Renee’s sad little toilet-reading, bathroom basket collection of a library.

I was on my feet hunched towards him infinitesimally, the book that had been less than a centimeter from crashing into my face tenderly clutched in my right hand, my lips pulled back over my teeth to let out a snarl. The right half of the original novel I had held fell onto the floor with a thump a moment later. He stood crouched as well, a wicked smile spread on his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He loved provocation – eliciting this kind of response in me fueled him. A fight with some authentic irritation, a fight with an edge.

“Time for school, baby sister,” He raised an eyebrow, inviting the challenge.

“Emmett,” I hissed through my teeth, tensed to launch myself at him. Part of my mind sifted through a dozen plans of attack, strategizing what would be my most successful method of taking him down since he was pretty much insurmountable. He had all the strength and all the size. Stealth would be my greatest chance. Another part of my mind pulsed with irritation, an irrational, furious mood swing sweeping over me. The kind of emotional response only our kind could experience...or handle. I nearly saw red as the rest of the words flew through my lips. “Couldn’t you have told me that without destroying a priceless artifact of my human life, big brother?”

I made the name sound like a curse word.

“Artifact?” Emmett snorted. “Please. How many times have you read that same damn story in the past few years? I did you a favor,” he smirked as he feigned right and left so fast that it was as if he hadn’t moved at all.

I tensed to hurl myself forward at the opportune moment before a tsunami tide of calmness washed over the room along with an earthy aroma of citrus, patchouli, musk, and leather. “We really should be leaving now,” my other adopted brother Jasper murmured in his lightly southern accent as he appeared.

“Restricting as it may be, vehicles only allow up to a certain speed, and Esme wouldn’t like for us to be late,” my tiny sister materialized by his side in a blur of porcelain skin and inky black hair. “Although, maybe she’d get a kick out of a call home for tardiness,” Alice laughed, a sound like windchimes. “I can tell you who would have won or you could have your fight later.”

“Ugh,” Emmett groaned in disappointment, dropping his stance. “It’s so hard to get her that riled up. Fuck!” He complained, grumpily disappearing from the room in a flash.

“Later,” He promised under his breath from the garage.

“You would have won,” Alice mouthed, her beautiful lips stretching into a secretive smile as she winked. She picked up the other half of the novel I had purposefully dropped to catch the meteor Emmet had propelled, tossing it in the air towards me in one fluid motion.

I grinned to myself, gently tucked the other book back into its rightful place on the shelf across the room, and caught the ruined piece before it hit the ground. My face immediately dropped into a frown as I analyzed both halves. Fortunately, Pride and Prejudice was not beyond repair. I could mend the division by sewing it back together down the spine later. I set the injured book down and flew downstairs not a moment later. As I passed my adopted mother on the way to the door, I pecked her on the cheek before exiting the house and sliding into the dark leather backseat of the pearly white car next to Alice. Without checking the mirrors, Rosalie sped out of the garage as soon as the door lifted enough for us to clear.

The trees outside the windows were a green haze as we flew by, our speed only decreasing when we arrived in the main part of town among other drivers. We could have ran to school much, much faster – and thus not had any concern about tardiness – but without our cars for appearance, our show might prove unconvincing. It wasn’t abnormal to walk to school in the unrelenting pouring of rain in our small town of Forks, Washington. However, though few people in town knew the location of our home, perhaps the front office ladies might find it concerning that a group of teenagers trekked a half marathon to their classes. It was unlikely they’d care to look up the address from our files, but we were never too cautious. 

I liked running. I had been characterized as very clumsy in my human life, so it was a welcome change to feel graceful and coordinated. It was a welcome change to feel powerful. It was, however, unwelcome to participate in the daily charade of masquerading as exactly the opposite of that. As much as I had enjoyed my afterlife, I loathed the same thing many teenagers did, a hatred that may be my greatest commonality with the humans that surrounded me.

High school. I didn’t mind school prior to my immortal life. I had been decent and even above-average in most subjects. I had been a responsible, diligent, and quiet seventeen year old: I paid attention, I completed assignments in time, I spent most of my time in solitude which allowed me ample time to study. There were subjects I enjoyed far more than others that kept things interesting enough for me. Unfortunately, after a number of graduations, high school lost any potential interest and became something of a purgatory. Even classes like English lost their charm over time. Once you had spent years studying literature from the greatest professors, scholars, and writers both living and dead, it was immensely rare for a small town high school English teacher to offer a new take that would make my attendance worthwhile.

Attending high school provided us with the opportunity to remain in one place longer, so complain as much as I want, I suppose it’s something to fill the endless amounts of time. Still, that didn’t make the obligation any more tolerable.

Rosalie hummed along to a song playing quietly through the speakers while Emmett sulked in the passenger seat over having missed out on a fight. I smiled, a bit smug. On the other side of Alice occupying the middle seat, I sensed Jasper’s head jerk slightly in my direction to see the expression that reflected my slight change in mood. I shook my head, still smiling, and he smirked a bit himself before returning his attention back to his window. His scarred hand traced affectionate circles onto Alice’s hand in her lap, and she stared forward, her unfocused eyes seeing not what was in front of her, but the potential realities of the future.

They were a gifted couple. We become immensely enhanced when we’re transformed from being human, and as a result, some immortals are equipped with a special gift on top of their already unparalleled supernatural senses. Our creator and father figure Carlisle theorized that our strongest traits from our human life develop in even stronger ways once we’ve been changed. Jasper’s influential nature flourished into a skill of sensing and manipulating the emotional climate of those around him. Alice’s gift was even more unique. She could see into the future. We didn’t know what in her human life this had developed from. Her past is a secret to not only us, but Alice as well.

I too was gifted. For some time, we had no idea until I had met our cousins. In Denali, Alaska, there was another coven similar to us not just in kind but in diet and ideology who we considered extended family. Another commonality we share is that they also have gifted immortals among their coven. One of the only males, Eleazar’s, gift was sensing the abilities of other vampires, and he had detected my ability. He revealed, to all of our surprise, that I was something called a mental shield. It’s a talent of blocking out any powers that could invade my mind, and it is absolutely, entirely useless to me. I didn’t have a need for this kind of protection. My gift was a complete waste.

The drizzling rain was picking up into a steadier shower as we pulled into the small parking lot of Forks High School. Scenting the earthy, fresh stormy air was the tempting fragrance of the students’ pulsing blood as they ran for the dry cover of the maroon brick buildings. I was entirely satiated from my most recent hunt. Still, my throat burned with the slight dryness that would never completely go away. Jasper sighed.

There were only a few late stragglers hurrying from their vehicles towards their classes that could potentially see us, but as Rosalie parked, we moved at the frustratingly slow pace of the humans around us as a precaution. No risks. After exiting the car, Alice tossed me my backpack of useless school material from the trunk. I slid one strap over my shoulder and departed from my siblings for my first class.

The rest of the morning dragged along like a slow, drawn out sigh. I spent most of the time in my classes thinking of ways I could reorganize the book shelves in my room again. By genre, by author name, by theme, by year published, by year the story takes place, by favorite author, by alphabetical order of the location the story was set, by date of author’s death, by favorite to least favorite protagonist, by which accumulated the most pieces of literary criticism, by section that each family member might enjoy the most, by order in which I first read each, by order of which I read most to least, by order of which my family had read most to least, by alphabetical order of the antagonist’s name, and by which was least to most realistic were all ways I had structured my personal library in the past few years. I was toying with the idea of organizing by order of the birthday of the first character introduced, but a lot of the birthdays had not been established throughout the plot. I would have to decide where they would fit throughout the year based on which zodiac sign I might consider them to have depending on their character traits. Not that I held much stock in astrology – horoscopes did me no good when I had a future-telling sister.

The only difference in this day than any other day was that the trivial gossip I unintentionally overheard throughout the hallways concerned a new addition to the student body. This stirred up a lot of interest seeing as the majority of the children here knew each other for the entirety of their lives. What I had gathered in passing was that it was a junior boy named Edward Masen from Chicago who had recently moved from living abroad with his family. The girls were very excited – they considered him a very attractive potential new love interest. Attractive, though those who had been brave enough to speak to him found him to be impenetrable despite his charm. I wondered what the boy would make of me and my family.

I joined my siblings at our lunch table, the farthest table from everybody else in the room. In front of each of us was the prop of a lunch tray piled with unappetizing food. Alice sat, staring forward with empty eyes again, living in her own ever-changing reality. Jasper and Emmett made a hacky sack out of an apple and subtly kicked it back and forth in the air beneath the table, the apple moving too fast for human eyes to detect. Rose twirled a piece of her golden hair around in her hands, disinterested. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As were all of ours. Occasionally she participated in their game by intercepting the apple with her foot.

“The new student’s going to ask about us in approximately fifteen seconds,” Alice chirped, her face returning to the present.

Emmett chuckled quietly.

“What will be said, and how will the boy respond?” Rosalie asked, her foot sending the apple reeling toward the ceiling.

Alice caught the apple in her slender, white hand before tossing it back to Emmett to end the game. “No different than anything else that’s been said, and no different than anybody else.”

I scanned the cafeteria to find the new student, so I could place a face to the upcoming conversation I’d be listening in on.

My eyes locked with a pair of soft green eyes set in a pale, angular face beneath an untidy mess of strange bronze hair. I looked away immediately but caught the beginning jolt of shock lighting up those surprisingly wise eyes.

“Who are they?” The boy gasped. So it had been my gaze that brought Alice’s vision to life. No doubt he’d immediately recognize the subtle differences that distinguish our kind from his. Emmett and I exchanged a glance, laughing under our breath as another junior student I recognized as Naomi Parker provided the common knowledge of the strange Cullen children. The story was complicated. In Forks, the explanation for our family was that Carlisle had adopted his twin niece and nephew, Rosalie and Jasper Hale, after the unexpected passing of his much older half-brother. Similarly, after a tragic car accident took the lives of Esme’s parents in addition to her aunt and uncle, she took in her younger siblings, Emmett and I, along with her niece Alice to look after us. Bonding over the shared experience of so much responsibility so young, Carlisle and Esme eloped, and we formed one giant, misshapen family.

Instinctively, I caught the apple in my hand just as it nearly turned into applesauce by means of collision with my stone face. I snarled at Emmett’s hysteric expression, hiding my hand from view so that anyone watching would have missed the entire catch. “Would you quit doing that today!?”

Rosalie shot Emmett a disapproving look. He shouldn’t be so irresponsible when we were clearly on display for the new Masen kid. I shot a minute glance towards his table to make sure they were no longer watching us. The boy seemed to be focused on the information he was receiving.

“This,” I snarled, sneakily disintegrating the apple into a pulp in my hand below the table where the humans couldn’t see, “will be what happens to you at home.” I made a show of letting the mush slide off my hand onto my tray.

My brother guffawed, and my other siblings joined in the laughter.

“In your dreams!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I also couldn’t help but feel the intensity of watching eyes.

“Who’s the girl with the really long dark hair?” The soft, low voice of the boy asked quietly from across the room.

Reflexively, my eyes met his stare once again. He looked away quickly.

“That’s Bella. She’s insanely beautiful obviously, but if you’re thinking about trying to talk to her, forget it,” Naomi shrugged.

Once lunchtime was over, we disbanded to head off to the last half of yet another monotonous day. On my way out of the cafeteria, I purposely bumped into the trash can for Emmett’s benefit as he and Rose followed close behind. The action was a little more violent than I intended, and the plastic container bent slightly at the force.

“Oops,” I bit my lip to keep from smiling as he erupted into laughter. Upon our move to Forks, it had become something of a joke between Emmett and I for me to feign clumsiness. I didn’t participate in this joke daily, but every once in a while I’d sprinkle in an elaborate fall for his sake.

When I reached my junior level Biology class, I settled into my seat at the lab table I shared with no one. I laid the books devoid of any information relevant to me out on the table, and propped an elbow on the surface to hold my head up in my hand, awaiting the oncoming tedium. 

The room filled as students returned from lunch. I paid them no attention, my eyes fixated on counting the snow-like particles of chalk dust floating in the air likely from Mr. Molina writing on the board prior to the end of lunch.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Masen! We’re so glad to have you join us. You can take the seat next to Miss Cullen,” I looked up to find the biology teacher pointing in my direction. Next to him was the new boy. Standing up, he appeared very lanky – several inches taller than our teacher – though his physique was still slightly muscular.

I pulled the books closer to my side of the table to make room for him, feeling bad that he had the misfortune of being assigned the seat next to me. He would probably feel more comfortable anywhere else. Not only because I didn’t go out of my way to interact much with my classmates, but because their long-buried survival instincts told them what their brains didn’t totally understand: we were dangerous.

I had never been more dangerous than I was in that moment. Because after the Masen kid politely thanked the teacher, he turned down the aisle, directly in front of the heated airflow that blew towards me.

His scent washed over me like the most vicious, violent wave, a wall of unrelenting water in a heavy thunderstorm in the middle of the ocean, drowning me, taking me down, down, down, further and further away from the traces of humanity I had once clung to.

In every direction of this blackest of depths, there was no escape that could lead me back to the light; I resurfaced as the monster I pretended not to be.

The sweet enticing smell of Edward Masen’s blood compelled my throat to rupture into a burning, aching fire. I had never been ablaze with such need. My mouth was pooling with venom as my prey approached. Since he spoke, he had only taken another step forward. He would not take another.

As my muscles begged for the release that would send me springing forward, stealing the first life of my existence, those sage eyes glanced at me, widening in bewilderment at the vicious expression contorting my features.

With great difficulty, I emerged from my horrible, repulsive compulsion. The look on his face was enough to spare him another moment.

His scent perfumed the air around me; I was encompassed in this irresistable cloud of bloodlust, eager to leap up and put an end to this unexpected torture.

In all my years of immortality, I had never experienced a desire this overwhelming. I had never been so vulnerable to committing this kind of atrocity. My record was clean. With guidance, I had been able to restrain myself from the temptation of human blood. Of course, instinct is not easily fought. Sometimes the abstinence was painful. But never like this.

A dozen scenarios on how to kill this poor human boy crossed my mind, and I combatted every single one with the last miserable shred of self control I had left. I had never exerted so much effort. The toil was something hazily reminiscent of human exhaustion, weighing heavily onto me.

I had no choice but to end his life. There was no other way.

He awkwardly settled into the seat next to me, aware of some unknown hostility, but unaware of the ferocity raging within, unaware of the way his blood sang to me, inviting me in, inviting me to betray all my years of discipline, effort, and tolerance. Inviting me to betray my family.

Despite the absolute consumption, by some miracle, I resisted.

I desperately clung to the thought of my family. Rosalie. Esme. Carlisle. Alice. Emmett. Jasper.

They loved me. They would forgive me for this detestable, inexorable act. They would understand. They wouldn’t harbor any judgment.

But how could I let them down in this way? Everything about who we are, everything about what unites us and bonds us is intricately traced back to the compassion that rules over our lives. It’s what makes us different from others of our kind. It’s what allows us to retain some remnants of the humanity we’ve lost. So just as I’ve done before, I would withstand human blood now. No matter the agony that accompanies the resistance.

I took one last deep breath. The scent washed down my throat, burning me alive from the inside out.

I wouldn’t dare to breath for the next torturous hour. It was uncomfortable to forgo the sensation, but the consequences that would follow if I did breathe had far worse implications.

Could I last that long? What was I trying to prove? Was the possibility of a lapse in the best of my judgment worth not succumbing to the honest truth – that I had more weakness in the face of human blood than I thought?

Perhaps Emmett might make fun of me. Perhaps Jasper might secretly appreciate someone else struggling more than he did. But Carlisle and Esme wouldn’t see any weakness in leaving. They’d be proud of me for making this decision. They’d understand.

The last of the students were arriving from lunchtime. Now was the greatest opportunity to escape without drawing too much attention. In my peripheral, I saw the boy open his mouth to begin to speak to me.

If I didn’t leave now, I never would. My resolve was slipping away with every thud of the boy’s heart.

I got up and walked to the front of the classroom a little too fast.

“Mr. Molina?” I asked, my voice tight. The biology teacher looked up from a lesson plan he was reviewing, his eyes startled as he registered my face. I heard his heartbeat pick up from the surprise.

“I’m feeling a little... unwell. May I be excused?” I utilized the last of my breath, hoping the subtle begging in my voice didn’t prompt more questions.

Mr. Molina recollected himself, his eyebrows pulling together in slight concern along with confusion. The Cullens were never sick.

“Of course, Miss Cullen. Do you need a nurse’s pass-” He began before I cut him off, resentfully taking another tormenting breath. The scent sent my mind reeling. I fought for coherency in my thoughts.

I didn’t need to work to put on a show; I probably looked pale and sick enough.

“No thank you,” I spoke quickly, desperate for the relief of fresh, untainted air.

“Alright, then. I hope you feel better-” I was out of the room before he could finish the rest of the statement. The bell for class rang. The hallways were empty, so I risked the charade and began to move at an inhuman speed around the corner. Only when I had exited the building did I allow myself to breathe again. I gasped, nearly choking on the mouthfuls of clean air when I reached the car. My head was still spinning as I climbed into the drivers’ seat. I gave little thought to worrying if my quick movements in the classroom would reveal too much. I hoped that the students were too focused on finishing up their leftover conversations from lunch to notice. 

With a jolt, I realized I was not alone in the car. In the passenger seat sat my tiny sister.

“Bella?” She asked, her pitch-black eyes unable to convey the concern that was etched on the rest of her pixie-like features.

“Alice,” I breathed. I had been so distracted with my own thoughts I hadn’t even paid any attention to the proximity of the familiar vanilla and jasmine fragrance of her skin. What was wrong with me today?

“Are you alright? I saw…”

I winced, knowing what she must have seen.

“I’m fine. I just… I-... I don’t know what happened…” The words flew rapidly out of my mouth.

“Do you need help? Should I grab the boys? Or would you like to leave-”

“No! No. It’s really not...a big deal. I’m just going to… I promise I’m fine. I won’t go back there-” I gulped, the venom filling my mouth as I even considered returning to the class where he sat. Alice’s eyes widened, so I stopped the thought in its tracks. “Rosalie has a free period right now. I think I’ll go find her. I’ll see you when school is over.”

I reached for the door, turning away from her, shame filling me, making me unwilling to face her any longer. Her slender hand grabbed my other wrist, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine, Alice!” I pulled my hand away too defensively. Regret replaced the shame for a moment. “Sorry.”

I left her alone in the car, feeling guilty.

I knew it was risky to utilize my sense of smell, but following the sweet, warm aroma of orange blossom, marshmallow, and roses – and avoiding anywhere remotely near the science wing – I found my other sister alone in an empty classroom. Now that it had been distinguished from the rest, I could still smell the boy, but with more distance between us, I fought the temptation off.

“You’re not in class?” She asked as she typed into a computer, her back turned to me. It looked as though she was searching for some car parts. Even though I helped her in the garage sometimes, after all these years I was still no better at identifying anything related to automobiles.

“Rose...” I began, before stopping short, unsure of what to say.

She turned around in an indiscernible millisecond, her breathtaking face worried at the tone of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

She reached for me consolingly. Though I didn’t need the rest – I could stand still for hours on end and never feel tired – I sat on the floor beside her chair, hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes fixated on the dust deep in the roots of the rough, outdated carpet.

Her silky hands smoothly brushed through my hair, patiently waiting for me to build up the courage to speak. It felt nice.

After a few seconds, she spoke up. “Bella, you’re worrying me.”

I sighed.

“I’ve never...struggled this way before,” I admitted, exasperated with myself.

I could see that she was nodding out of the corner of my eye, immediately understanding. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about, Bella.”

I didn’t need to see her face to know her perfect lips were set into a deep frown. She wasn’t lying to me, but I knew to her, this existence was everything to be ashamed about.

“I won’t pretend that I don’t find myself...repulsed with...well, what we are. That’s no secret to anyone.” Her musical laughter had a dark edge to it. “But I’ve spent enough time for all of us hating myself for the impulses we have and the tragedy of our existence. You needn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s alright to...” She trailed off, selecting different words. “We’ve chosen an abnormal path in this non-life of ours. The terrible consequences of what we are are normal” – her hands froze in my hair briefly saying the word – “so try to let go of the shame I know you’re feeling, though I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “you know we won’t allow you to harm anyone.”

I bit down on my lower lip. I was glad I came to Rosalie. She didn’t think I was being overdramatic the way Emmett might have.

Though I deeply loved my mother from my human life, there hadn’t been much maternal guidance. We had a strong bond, but I was far more of the caretaker than she was. I had been very lucky in this immortal life. Esme treated me as her own daughter, and I became truly taken care of. Just as Esme became the most loving mother figure in all the ways that counted, Rosalie became the very best protective older sister. My life had no shortage of supportive femininity and womanhood.

I heard a springy, featherlight approach of fast footsteps.

“I told you not to follow me,” I grumbled.

Alice poked her tongue out at me as she entered the room and fluttered to my other side, joining my other sister in stroking my head. “You’ll forgive me. I didn’t want to be left out of a sister moment.” 

Her words brought half a smile to my face.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be comforted by Rosalie’s words and the soft feeling of my sisters’ hands in my hair.

Yes, it was undeniable what I was. I could never change the fact. But I could change the fate of this boy, and I could deny myself the instincts that identified me this way. I could deny myself Edward Masen.

[ladydorian]

So I was ill last night and did not sleep much, but I came up with a very basic Brommet roommate AU (they were roommates!) that I probably will never write but I wanted to share the idea anyway:

Emmet has been roommates with his best friend Deedee for years. But after things get serious between Dee and her girlfriend April, the two decide it's time to take the plunge and move in together, leaving Emmet out of a roommate. He puts up flyers around the neighborhood, posts ads online, but so far all the applicants seem like people he wouldn't be able to stand for five minutes without ripping his hair out. But his lease is up soon, and time is running out if he wants to keep his apartment, so he tells himself to buckle down and stop being so picky. The next person who replies is definitely going to be his roommate. At least, that's how he feels until a massive redhead shows up at his door.

The guy is kind of shy and hesitant to make eye contact, but that doesn't diminish how fucking intimidating his size appears to Emmet. Flashbacks of being bullied by jocks in high school race through Emmet's head, and he's about to turn him away when the man begs him to let him stay, just for a few months. He says he's going to lose his job if he can't find a place to move nearby, and though Emmet is reluctant at first, the longer the man pleads, the more his conscience begins to eat at him. So he tells the guy he can move in until another place opens up. A few months, tops. The man—Baby—thanks him profusely, and promises he'll be the best roommate ever.

Turns out Baby is not the best roommate ever. He's a bit of a mess, clumsy, tends to break things and doesn't know how to cook or clean dishes properly. It doesn't take long for Emmet to grow annoyed with him, but they signed their lease for six more months, so he's stuck with Baby for the time being, whether he likes it or not.

Several weeks pass, and slowly Emmet becomes used to their setup. Baby is at the gym most of the time anyway, so he only sees him after work in the evenings. And he finds he doesn't mind taking on a few extra chores, like cooking more often and doing their laundry, though Baby's room is a disaster, the only tidy thing being his bed, and the old teddy bear that's tucked in under the blankets. It's cute, if not a little immature, and Emmet promises to ask him about it the next time they talk.

Well, Baby comes home late that night in a sour mood. He heads straight to bed without eating, and barely takes a moment to look at Emmet. Emmet is concerned and decides to press him about it over dinner the next night. After a bit of gentle prodding, Baby admits that he'd had a bad date with a guy he met at the bar. He thought they would hit it off, but the man only seemed to want to talk about his muscles and how attractive he was, like he'd hit the jackpot with him. Baby tells Emmet how much it hurts to have people only interested in his body, and how he sleeps with his teddy every night because he feels so lonely. Emmet is upset with himself for judging Baby based on his appearance, and from that moment on, he swears he's going to become his friend, to show him that people can care for who he is as a person, and not just how he looks on the outside.

The two grow closer fast. They hang out at bars with Dee and April, Emmet tries to be Baby's wingman, but usually people mistake the two for a couple, so neither of them get any action. Which is fine; Emmet prefers being around Baby anyway. And they can drink at home, which is what they do one night, getting just drunk enough for Emmet to suggest they play an old game that he used to enjoy back in college. Each person gets to ask the other one question. The person can answer it or refuse, but if they pass, they have to remove a piece of clothing. This goes back and forth until one person is naked and the game ends. The point is to start of with innocent questions—Favorite food, favorite color—then move onto raunchier things, hoping the other will be too embarrassed to answer. Shy as he is, Baby agrees to play, and after about thirty minutes of questions, they both end up down to their underwear.

Baby doesn't want to lose, but he also doesn't want to know what might happen if he sees Emmet naked, so he asks a question that he thinks will be easy to answer: He asks Emmet when was the last time he told someone he loved him.

Emmet immediately stops laughing and hurries to leave the room, insisting he can't play anymore. Baby doesn't know what he's done wrong but feels terrible for it, and spends the next few days trying everything he can to make it up to Emmet. When nothing seems to work, he asks Dee for advice, and that's when he reveals that he's in love with Emmet, but after what happened during their game, he's not sure he can ever tell him.

And to complicate things further, Emmet finds out that Baby has been keeping his past from him, when he sees a scar on his hip and asks if he'd had his appendix removed. Baby lies at first, but the truth comes out that he'd gotten it after being stabbed in prison. They stop talking for a while, and Baby is so upset, he offers to move out. But Emmet won't let him. Because they're friends, after all. And Baby has served his time and become a better person. Baby is so happy, he hugs him and cries into his shoulder, and Emmet starts to feel something he hadn't felt in years.

More things happen, they go on vacation with the girls and share a bed so they only have to get one room. Emmet takes Baby to the boardwalk and buys one of those silly friendship bracelets for him, and Baby says he likes it so much he'll never take it off. He wins a giant teddy bear for Emmet, but they both decide to share it because teddy bears are Baby's thing. When they get back home, the two seem closer than ever, and Baby starts to think that maybe he can confess to him. Maybe it won't be so scary after all.

Then, while they're out shopping one day, they run into Emmet's ex from a few years ago, and Emmet spends the rest of the day acting strange. Baby goes to the gym afterwards, and when he gets home, he finds Emmet sitting outside on the stoop, drunk and crying. They talk, and Emmet confesses that the man they'd met was the last person Emmet had said he'd loved. And in the years since, he's never said it to anyone else.

Baby curls his arm around him while he cries, and says that he wishes he could make things better. But all he can do is tell Emmet that he cares about him, and he loves him from the bottom of his heart. And it doesn't matter if Emmet never says it back to him, because nothing will change the way Baby feels.

And Emmet looks him in the eyes then and slowly leans in to kiss him. And neither of them have to say anything. Because they both understand. But Emmet still breathes the words against his lips:

"I love you too, Baby."

And that's where the story ends.