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glassesblu · 3 years ago

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waughh this one's a bit sad, but also hopeful at the end!

Bot!Emmet just worried and missing his brother and trying his best to locate him hurts! And when he crashes in Hisui, the lack of recognition hurts so much!!! Please Ingo, do not hesitate!

Ingo's tender care of what seems to be a stranger is so sweet tho 🥺 and Bemmet appreciates that Ingo is such a caring soul.

Yout descriptions of the damage Bemmet had sustained, so oof! I feel for him! I want him to be repaired :( and his worry that Ingo will be disappointed in *him* for the damage like! No baby no 😭 I am sure Ingo would only feel regret that he left his brother for so long that he was not able to repair him immediately.

Truly Super Bravo! This was worth the wait.

either guardian or important, whichever one you haven't done already or have an idea for... Or both! ~ rowan:)

-Send me a “Guardian” and I’ll write a drabble about one character swearing to always keep the other safe -Send me a “Important” and I’ll write a drabble about one character explaining why the other is so important to them

Hiiiii Rowan! Thanks for the request, as well as your patience! I'll be sure to ping you elsewhere so you know this is finished! o(*°▽°*)o

This is another entry in the Bot!Emmet AU! Please enjoy!

His brother had created him. Despite Ingo's insistence on hiding it from others, it was quite important to him that Ingo was his creator. It was a fact that defined his entire being, his whole life. Ingo was important to him in all ways, from creator, to brother, to love, to lover. If there were time, he would tell everyone exactly what Ingo was to him as a preface to every conversation. That was the level of importance that Ingo creating him held within the programming that could be called his heart.

However, he was forbidden from telling anyone, even if it was the absolute truth. Even if they asked him, right to his face, if Ingo had made him with his own hands, he was to lie. Ingo had even gone so far as to provide a complete backstory for why twins who shared so much in common had not been working together from the start. Because they were both gifted children, their parents had decided that they must be separated in order to pursue their particular disciplines. Ingo, naturally, was skilled in engineering and electronics. He, on the other hand, was skilled in the arts, and an astounding pianist.

It was a good story, even if Ingo said he could not have 'learning nunchaku' as his chosen discipline. Nunchaku would have made his backstory verrry interesting. And cool.

But the story they told was not the truth. The truth was much more simple! One day, he had simply woken up.

Nothing existed before that, and then awareness was suddenly available to him. Information spread out before him, all clicking into place as his databases grew themselves around various hubs, connecting tracks and building stations. Special folders collected images of a perpetually frowning man, labeled with the designation 'Ingo.' Sorting through all the knowledge that had been bestowed upon him, he came to hold two things above all else: Ingo was his brother, and that same Ingo was lonely.

With this at the forefront of his thoughts, he sat in the dark room, eyes facing upwards towards the ceiling, but visual processors relaying nothing. His body hummed as it worked, and he placed his hands over his stomach, waiting patiently. The data finished compiling properly, but he considered it all very carefully before opening his eyes to receive new information. Ingo had provided so much for him to calibrate with, and he wanted to be sure it was all completely integrated.

The urge to say the only name available to him out loud flashed on his display, but he found himself incapable of it. His mouth opened and closed properly, but no sound came out of the movement. No amount of time keeping it open produced any type of sound at all. The whirring in his head provided a series of hand gestures that could output the same information. Switching on his visual processors, he delighted in signing it over and over, experimenting with flourishes that would still render the word identifiable. There were other words, of course, but this was the important one. It had to be done perfectly. Helpfully, he was also given the word for 'twin,' the thing Ingo supposedly wanted them to be. He practiced signing that one as well. Ingo would be so happy with him.

Ingo was happy with him. Ingo gave him everything he asked for, working for hours and hours to perfect each request. Ingo thought of things that would make him better. Ingo took care of him. Ingo was cool and strong and capable. Ingo was also cute, and made interesting sounds when he was especially happy.

He wanted to make Ingo happy all the time. The sensors provided to him allowed him to identify all the various emotions a face could display, and he studied Ingo with as much care as his brother had given to him. Sometimes he recorded his brother for later analysis, but he was also capable of taking rapid series of photos. All of it was tagged and registered when he finished, tucked securely in his special folders.

However, the most recent sets of photos and videos got their own special folders, locked behind firewalls and extra dedicated security that he personally had created. Although there were commands that could direct him to outwardly display images he had recorded at the behest of others, such as in the case of an emergency where he was unable to extract hurt passengers alone, these particular folders could not be accessed without his consent. Contained within were his older brother, his precious and important Ingo, in positions that supposedly others would find questionable. Likely, Ingo would be quite flustered to know that he had saved them all. Despite this, they were beloved, showing a side of Ingo that absolutely no one else was privy to. Among the collection were slideshows of special expressions just for him, his brother's eyes half-lidded, smoldering with barely suppressed want. Sound clips where Ingo's voice begged for his touch, needy and so unlike his commanding presence in the Subway. Videos of the shivers and twitches that only he could coax out of his twin.

There was just one problem. Even these precious, so-called 'recent' photos and videos were not new. In fact, the most recent one had a date of over two years ago. He had not been able to record anything more recently because of a very important and distressing reason.

Ingo had been missing for two years.

Without permission to tell anyone what he was, the need for repairs had begun to build up. Much of the required attention was simple upkeep that he could not reach, but there had been accidents here and there. It was all because of his carelessness, and he regretted allowing damage to something that Ingo put so much effort and care into. Part of his abdomen was facing structural failure if he was not careful, but it was easily hidden by his uniform. His right arm now had exposed wiring, only covered and reinforced by Gavantula's webbing. There was tension in the same shoulder, threatening full disconnection with every confident gesture and point he made.

He really wanted Ingo to come back. He missed him. He hurt without him.

-------

Safety had been neglected without his brother's care, and due to distraction, he had not properly registered the strange portal opening under his feet. And so, he had fallen. The Depot Agents were probably very cross with him for not paying attention. They had expressed their concern to him many times before now. But his systems had diverted all energy and processing power to finding his brother, his twin, his creator, his love. Anything outside of finding Ingo had been relegated to a lower priority status, but perhaps he should have heeded their advice. He would apologize right away, because they had been right to worry.

Sitting up with a hiss of escaping steam, he began a self-evaluation program, made for testing each system's functionality in case of damage. It had been quite a long fall, so he was expecting some trouble. Sensation receptors had been cut off with his reboot, comfort thresholds far surpassed leading to an emergency shut off. As the diagnostic result screen launched, his display lit up with numerous errors, screen almost completely red in warning. Half of the available display flickered with the damage to one of his visual processors, dark lines cutting through warning notifications.

"Ahaha..." he sighed out, fans beginning to whir to counterbalance his rise in temperature as multiple pings continued reporting failing numbers. "Nii-san will be quite cross with me." Once he managed to find Ingo, he hoped his brother would say nice things to him before he noticed the damage to his body. After all, they had been apart for so long; Ingo didn't have to fix him right away. Being frustrated at what his carelessness had caused could wait until after he told Ingo how much he missed him.

While his internal systems continued their audits, he tentatively used his left hand to check on his external damages. He already knew there was damage to his visual processors, but his movement halted as he ghosted his fingers across his torso. The fabric of his shirt was all that stopped his hand from going entirely into the hole that was now there. Oh. Oh that was decidedly not good.

Minimizing the displays for the various status reports, he switched to external inputs so that he could take in his surroundings. Staying seated on the ground to reduce wasteful energy usage, he scanned around him. It was certainly not the Station, or even any place he'd seen first hand, for that matter. There were rocks everywhere, with rough shrubs and large towering deciduous trees. He stood out pretty harshly in his mostly white uniform, even with the dust and dirt covering it, glowing slightly in the twilight that settled over the landscape with the now setting sun. Despite the damage to his visual processor, he could see several wandering pokémon to his far right, but no humans were in sight. It made sense, with no visible paths nearby; usually, people waited along clearly defined routes for safety. People liked safety; he knew this because his beloved brother always wanted to protect it, so he enthusiastically learned all the rules and enforced them.

The crunch of footsteps behind him called his attention from the surroundings, and he tried to rest his left hand on one of the pokéballs that should be on his belt. Instead, his hand met only his hip. That was significantly more alarming than whoever was behind him, but he turned himself with his other arm anyway, only managing a ninety degree turn before his right arm locked up. Filters switched on in his eyes, lenses whirring and adjusting, reducing the light behind the person so he could see more than the silhouette. It was harder than normal with only one visual sensor working properly, but he managed it.

"Are you alright, sir? You are an awfully long way from any roads, and the pokemon around here can be quite dangerous.” A tall man, dressed in a tattered black coat and cap, called out to him.

Ingo. His beloved Ingo, staring at him as though he were a stranger. Using 'Sir' to address him, something they used for faceless troublemakers in the subway. Even his good eye was enough to register the absolute lack of recognition in his concerned frown. In shock, he leaned so hard onto his right arm towards his brother that it buckled at one of the exposed areas and he fell face first into the dirt.

Jumping into action, Ingo immediately moved to help him up, hesitating when it became obvious he was heavier than he looked. Readjusting his grip, Ingo leveraged more strength into getting him sitting, and he used his left arm to assist as much as he was able. Ingo went down on one knee in front of him, clearly wanting to place his hand on his shoulder. Ingo should not hesitate to touch him, not after all they had done together. Ingo should just touch him.

"I am Emmet. I am okay," he lied. Ingo's eyes narrowed under the brim of his tattered hat. His own hat was off in the bushes to their side. Simply staring back at Ingo, he waited as his most important person took in the sight of him. There was concern, of course, but it was the same as when Ingo found a lost child crying in the Subway. A confusion at his appearance was expected, though the multiple layers of confusion were far more than anticipated. Ingo, his oh so important creator and love, reached for his face with the tenderness he had expected, though he stopped just before actually touching him.

"You are severely injured, Emmet." Ingo said, changing the angle of his hand to lightly cup his cheek, thumb seconds away from brushing his cheekbone. His touch sensations had been shut off, but the gentleness of the gesture was obvious. Ingo had always treated him with care and soft touches, even though his body was durable enough for it to not matter. Though the state he was in might belie his durability, Ingo should have known that gentleness was not a requirement when handling him. But he was still always gentle, even now, when recognition barely flickered in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Nii-san," he started, and Ingo's eyes widened at the designation, before he pulled his hand back slowly. Ingo's gaze traced his features with more interest, trying to connect something. "I did not ensure all safety checks were made before departing on the tracks to this station."

"Emmet." Ingo said again, sounding as if the meaning behind the name was escaping him, searching for comprehension of a foreign word. He smiled for Ingo, and his brother's gaze locked onto his mouth. "We should get you back to town," he declared, leaning back, weight on his heel. "Can you stand? Do you think you can make it there?"

With all the errors still buzzing at his periphery, he did not think he could make it anywhere further than a few feet. But more concerning than that was how, if he went somewhere with other people, what he was would surely be noticed. The damage to his torso and arm could be hidden with his coat, but he doubted the high collar could hide the damage to his face well enough. Ingo had expressly forbidden such a thing, even if he seemed to have forgotten that right now. "I cannot. Ingo does not seem to remember. But I cannot go to places where people are when I am like this."

Ingo watched him silently for a moment, eyebrows knit together under the brim of his cap, and he could see the wheels in Ingo's head turning. Ingo did not actually have wheels in there, but his brother had simply chuckled when he told him so, and said it was an expression of deep thought.

So when Ingo stood up, he tipped his head back in curiosity, wondering what his brother had decided. Without a word, Ingo pulled a strange looking pokéball from within his coat and tossed it out. A Machamp that his brother should not have had popped out, flexing its arms proudly as it waited for a command. "Machamp, if you could be so kind to our newest passenger," Ingo said gently, tipping his cap politely to Machamp. With an excited call in response, Machamp stooped to pick him up, experiencing only a bit of difficulty when he proved to be heavier than the pokémon had anticipated. But it was easily solved with a simple adjustment, and Ingo gave him a smile as he was cradled in Machamp's four arms. It was a strange one, corners of Ingo's mouth curled up, almost identical to his own, so he had no choice but to stare.

He needed to get a picture of it. His camera lens strained and an audible click accompanied the slow shutter. Ingo tilted his head at the sound, but did not ask for an explanation. Tucked in Machamp's arms, his face could be obscured by his collar, and he was further hidden when Ingo retrieved his hat from the bush and placed it lightly onto his head. "This will hide your most grievous of injuries from the townsfolk, so you need not worry," Ingo said to him, and seemed satisfied with that. If Ingo was happy, he was happy. Obviously, Ingo had a plan to keep people from knowing what he was, and he would trust whatever that plan was.

As they traveled, the error messages went silent as his energy reserves hit thirty percent. He leaned his head against Machamp's chest, eyes closing part way under the shadow of his hat brim. Although he didn't need to express signs of tiredness, Ingo had said it helped him know when Emmet needed to recharge so he could encourage him to rest when needed. As he shut his eyes to divert power towards internal repair functions, he distantly heard Ingo speaking. "It seems I have finally found you, mysterious man from my dreams."

Cataloging that away for when he had recharged, he went into sleep mode.

#Submas #Blankshipping #Ingo #Emmet #Belltrigger #Bot emmet au #Bemmet #Bot maker ingo #Blankshipping fic #Fanfic

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glassesblu · 3 years ago

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heheh I thought this one is super cool and would love to see an expansion from you! (Though I think a lotnof your RS Submastober stuff would be so fun to read more of)

Hohoh I love the airnof mystery and spookiness of this one! It IS horrifying to wake up in some nasty place with no memories. And SOMEONE is going to find you??? Who!!! Where are you, what is happening??? And then you have to keep running or else!

Bravo!

Submastober Day 18 - Meet

*Runs in at the last moment, slapping this down on the desk* Here it is!!! Day 18! Whew! Cutting it a bit close because of work again ahaha. I left my note about this at work, so hopefully this is just as good.

It's something of an AU of the Bot!Emmet AU? Er, someone was talking about Amnesia, and I've been thinking about a particularly cruel ds game I have called Theresia. So, this is less an AU, and more me putting those particular versions of Kudari and Nobori into a different set-piece. So, it's not canon to their AU, and not an AU I'm gonna pursue. Just wanted to play with the thoughts ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

Also, I've been wanting to write some horror for a while, so this is just a little warmup for that >:3

Title: Meet Word count: 698

Waking up with a thudding headache, Nobori turned his head, squinting at the lit lamp on the bedside table. A note sat there, covered in familiar script. Although every inch of his body rejected the notion of moving, the curiosity of what such a note could contain forced him up. A light shimmer sparkled in the dust on the table - it had not been touched for some time, it seemed.

Sitting up, he blinked to slowly adjust his eyes to the light. He was in some sort of bedroom, the walls lined with built in bookcases. The lamp at his side was the only light for the room - perhaps the owner read exclusively in bed.

He knew not who the owner was, but upon further reflection, he also knew not who *he* was.

Turning to the note, he picked it up to angle it for proper reading. "To Nobori," It read. "He will find you." Signed by Nobori, as well. Despite everything else being fuzzy, he knew that's who he was. Furrowing his eyebrows, the concerning matter of this note apparently having been penned by himself was overshadowed by the ominous message.

"Who is ... He?" he wondered aloud. And such a threat from himself? It was odd, but nothing else made sense. Placing the note back on the side table, he swung his legs off the side. Hard-soled shoes hitting the carpet (really? What kind of barbarian was he, resting in a bed with his shoes on?), he looked down in alarm at a faint crunching sound.

Broken bits of glass were on the floor, right under where his feet would have gone. Barbarian he may be, at least he had not stepped directly into glass with bare or cloth covered feet. Standing up, he turned to see the greater part of a smashed whiskey glass had rolled underneath the bed.

Another thing he could not recall, but now that he was up, he felt it best to investigate his surroundings. He seemed to be dressed in a long black coat with a high collar, though without taking it off he could find nothing more identifying. Moving as silently as his heavy shoes would allow him, he opened the door to the small room just the smallest bit, peeking outside.

He was inside some sort of large Western style mansion, on the second floor perhaps judging from the banisters lining the other side of the path in front of him. Taking a cautious step outside, he frowned even deeper. He continued to not recognize where he was, and it was becoming quite troubling. Surely, he should have at least some inkling of where he was.

A measured, heavy step creaked a floorboard behind him, and the one sentence note leapt back to the forefront of his mind. A shiver tightened his back, and the urge to hide himself sprung to every nerve along his spine. Quickly moving down the hallway, he looked for another room to duck into, hoping that it had more than one exit.

Luck was one again on his side, and his large stride brought him to the other door in no time. Just as he was opening the door, he heard the heavy footsteps outside, coming to a stop in front of the door he'd just entered the room from. Holding his breath, to avoid any additional unnecessary sound, he pulled the door towards himself, and slipped through the smallest opening he could.

As he shut the door, the other began to open. And through the slim openings of both doors combined, he saw a flash of white and silver. Over the creak of the door, he heard "-bori."

Heart ricocheting against his ribcage, he locked the door with shaky hands. Could that have been the "He" that the note warned about? Just as certain as when he'd determined *he* was Nobori, he knew that had to be who the note was written about.

Well. He wasn't going to be a sitting duck. No, if this He wanted to find him, he would certainly not make it easy. Although he didn't know his way around this odd Manor, he would find his way out before he was found.

#RS Submastober #Blankshipping #Bemmet #Bot maker ingo #Submas #Belltrigger

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