The prompts are in and our list has been finalized! As per our guidelines, any participants are free to interpret the prompts as they see fit, but if anything is unclear or you'd like a little more direction, we've got a handy guide below the cut!
February: Duty/Work. This week is themed around the job-- as Subway Boss, Warden, or anything that suits your vision!
(On the) Job Training: What did it take for Ingo to get where he is? Was it fun? Difficult? Is he trying to learn the ropes for a second time?
Team Track: It's very interesting to see a person coordinate and work so closely with their sibling well into adulthood. How do the twins work together? What's their favorite part? Does it ever get annoying-- on purpose, or just by way of how tight knit they are?
Accommodation: Are there any daily challenges that Ingo needs help with? What does it take to communicate with lips that won't emote? Does he have any injuries or conditions that he needs to keep on top of to stay in working order?
Foreign Travel: The Subway Boss has been all over Unova, and the Warden knows his way around the Hisui, but where else has he been? Did he see anything interesting, or meet new people and Pokemon?
Workplace Injury: Even the best safety measures can't prevent every injury. Has Ingo ever been injured on the job? Had to tend to someone else?
Station Master: What's a trainer without their team? Whether or not it's a Pokemon he trains or handles, show us a Pokemon you associate with Ingo!
Emergency Exit: It's important to know where your entry and exit points are; be it a mechanical failure, cave in, or routine evacuation drill, show or tell us about a time escape was the only option.
March: Off-Duty/Home. This week, it's time for a break! Whether home is Unova or Hisui, it's time to settle in and rest.
RXR: Not a railroad crossing, but rest and relaxation! What's the best way to make use of time off the clock? IS there time off the clock, or is work never ending?
Maintenance: It's best to leave work at work, but sometimes it comes home with you. What needs to happen to keep this a well oiled machine? Alternately, what might a sick day look like?
Diversion: Some people breed Pokemon and some attend musicals. What kind of hobbies does Ingo keep? Any particularly notable interests (apart from the obvious)?
No Legendaries on the Train: This couldn't go any earlier, or we'd be breaking the rules. Does Ingo have any ties to or friendships with a legendary or mythical Pokemon? Maybe you associate him with one? What's the story there?
:3 : Everybody smile!
Dining Car: Whether it's unique preferences, sensitivities or preparation, everybody has opinions where food is concerned. What are some of Ingo's?
Familiar Tracks: Unova is a region with a deep history and culture, and Hisui is set in its own ways. Does Ingo observe any traditions? Hold any cultural beliefs?
April: Truth & Ideals. This week is about history and aspiration!
Admission: How, exactly, did Ingo end up in Hisui? Whether you ascribe to his version of events or what the art book seems to imply, there's a story there, so what is it?
Rookie: What was life like before assuming his job? Was his role something he strove toward, or fortunate happenstance?
Branching Line: We have a very good idea what one member of Ingo's family is like, but apart from Emmet, who else is there? Familiar faces? Someone we've never seen? Is there anything interesting in the twins' family tree?
Pearl Clan: The Pearl Clan took Ingo in, but then what? Under what circumstances? Are they happy to have an outside perspective, or are those rough tracks to travel?
Ghost Train: There are ghosts in Ingo's past, both literal and figurative. Does anything continue to haunt him?
Historical Accuracy: We've seen traces of Hisui in modern day Sinnoh, so let's crack open a history book. How, if at all, is Warden Ingo remembered?
Everything Changes: Things won't be the same when (or if) Ingo finally gets home, but that's not always a bad thing. Show us that different doesn't mean worse.
May: Dream World. This week is about what we won't see on screen, so make sure your imagination is in high gear!
Off-Script: We've gotten a peek into a world where Ingo didn't wind up in Hisui, so let's explore that idea. Whether he disappeared and wound up somewhere else, or stayed safely in Unova, what else do you suppose could have happened?
Fresh Coat of Paint: It's well established how attached Ingo is to his coat, but let's give it a break of its own. Whether it's for fashion, fun or function, it's time to play dress up!
Alternator/X-ing: Do you have an AU or crossover you'd like to tell us about? A favorite you want to dip into? Now's the time!
Mirror Image: Maybe things got a little too intense yesterday-- now we're looking at two of the same person! Is Ingo interacting with a past or future version of himself? An alternate universe counterpart? Give us a peek into how it goes!
Train of Thought: Do you have any headcanons you want to share? If there's nothing in particular, then tell us a little bit about how you view Ingo. No two individuals-- or their thoughts-- are exactly identical, after all!
Union Station: It's a big world out there, with an impossible amount of interesting people! Who's someone you'd like to introduce Ingo to? Maybe it's an unlikely friendship or rivalry?
A Higher State: Where do we go from here? Whether it's what you think is most realistic, compelling, or what you personally want to see, give us an ending!
Thank you to everybody who submitted prompt suggestions! While they might not appear verbatim, we've tried to carry the spirit in the list above!
@spr-ingo April, Day 3 (ft. The Parent Trap AU Nobody Asked For)
... There's no sense belaboring the point. I'm the epitome of the Slowpoke meme.
ANYway! I came up with this concept a... year? two years ago? And this felt like a good excuse to play with it.
I actually got it mostly done on time, but got too embarrassed to post it because it felt like an odd AU... but then I posted that OTHER AU for May 3rd's prompt, which is a way way weirder premise, so now I don't feel quite as silly! It's still not completely finished, but it's close enough and I'm tired of looking at it!
Anyway! Onwards!
----
Though it is early summer, Bertha and Ingo arrive at the Canalave docks early enough in the day that they beat the worst of both the heat and the crowd.
Nonetheless, she grips his hand and keeps him close as they move towards the boat that will take him to Johto. At nine years old, he’s still small enough that he could easily be swept away in the clamor, and the last thing either of them want is for him to miss his ride and lose his spot at summer camp.
Ingo himself is absolutely buzzing with excitement and nerves alike, clutching her hand like a lifeline. They had done all they could to prepare for today, for his first big trip alone; but all the preparation in the world likely means little compared to the wide open world before him now.
It certainly means little to Bertha.
But this trip will be good for him, she tells herself. And for her as well. He’s almost at the right age to leave on his own Gym run, and a few weeks away from home in a structured environment will help him adjust to the idea of a longer journey when the time comes.
And it likely doesn’t hurt that he’ll get to spend those weeks next to one of the world’s most advanced railway systems.
The only times he’s ever been up close and personal with his beloved locomotives were during vacations to other regions, which are sadly few and far between when a single mother must budget for not only a growing boy, but also the seven Pokemon between them.
So when she caught wind of a summer camp in Johto taking place near the Magnet Train’s railyard which touted it’s own railway program… Well, what else could she do but start saving up?
The look on Ingo’s face when she showed him the brochure made it worth every penny and then some.
At the moment, he is tapping an uneven rhythm on the handle of his rolling luggage, eyes taking in all the hustle and bustle of the growing crowd. He’s already on edge, and it’s only going to get busier. If he gets wound up now, she’ll never get him grounded.
Best to get him talking, then.
“What do you think, Ingo? Are you excited?”
Ingo is pulled from his thoughts at the sound of her voice, and beams up at her (not so far up as he used to, though—it won’t be long now until he surpasses her height. A bittersweet thought).
“Yes, I am!” He exclaims. The volume is enough to net them a few stares and annoyed glances, but Bertha pays them no mind.
Ingo, however, flushes when he notices the looks. He hunches his shoulders a bit and looks down, suddenly seeming to find his shoes very interesting.
Bertha squeezes his hand. When he looks back at her, she gives him a warm smile. “It seems that they have a lot of fun things planned. I’ll want to hear all about it when you get home!”
Ingo relaxes a little, and squeezes her hand in turn. “Of course, Mother!” He says, at a more even volume this time. He stops, letting go of his suitcase and reaching into his pocket for the brochure, now soft and wrinkled despite his best efforts.
He points at the bulleted list on the back. “There are many fascinating activities planned for us! Such as…”
Bertha is already very familiar with the camp’s itinerary; even if Ingo hadn’t chattered excitedly about it every night at dinner, she herself had done plenty of research before ever bringing it up.
But as Ingo regales her with all that information and more, she finds that his enthusiasm is as infectious as ever.
--
Reviewing the itinerary does the trick. Now much calmer, Ingo carefully replaces the brochure in his pocket. But when he goes back to pick up his bag, he seems taken aback by an unexpected weight. “What? It feels heaver now than it did a few minutes ago...”
Something inside the bag shifts.
Ah, so that’s it.
Bertha covers her grin with one hand. “Whatever could be the matter, Ingo?” She asks, not able to fully hide the laughter in her voice.
Ingo sighs, heavy and dramatic, kneeling down and unzipping his bag. Neither of them are surprised when a pair of pointed purple ears immediately poke out.
“Gligar,” Ingo scolds, crossing his arms and giving his best stern look at the little bat. “We have already discussed this.”
Gligar pins his ears back and tries to dig further into Ingo’s bag. He must have gotten impatient when he felt them pause and tried to pop out of his smuggled Poke Ball to get a better idea of what was happening.
“Ah, no--!” Ingo dives in to fish out his errant Pokemon. “Do not move things around! I already packed them just right!”
After a struggle, Ingo stands, holding Gligar aloft. Very seriously, he tells him, “You know I am only allowed one Pokemon on this trip. I understand that you are unhappy,” he yields, when Gligar starts to pout, “and I am truly sorry. But those are the rules we must abide by. You have to stay home with Mother and everyone else.”
Gligar scowls, and points a claw at Ingo’s belt, where a lone Poke Ball rests. It wiggles a little, but it’s occupant wisely decides to stay out of the discussion.
Ingo sighs. “This is also something we have discussed.” He sets Gligar down on the ground, and kneels in front of him. “We drew straws, remember? And since Litwick emerged victorious, she is the one who will accompany me on this trip.”
Gligar hisses softly, turning away. Bertha has to cover her mouth again to suppress a laugh at the little bat’s petulant expression.
For now, she opts to simply stands back and watch. If Ingo intends to become a successful Pokemon Trainer—and she knows with all her heart that he will—then managing a Pokemon’s difficult temperament is one of the challenges he will have to overcome.
Still, though. She’s watching the time, in case she and her own Gliscor need to cut the negotiation short with some motherly intervention.
Ingo’s own expression is not quite as amusing as his little Gligar’s. His lips turn downward even more than usual, and his brows knit together.
“Gligar,” he says, and his solemn tone is enough to catch his Pokemon’s attention again, “I promise that I am not playing favorites.” Ingo leans down a little, to be on a more even level with his Pokemon. “How about this? The next time I go on a trip and I only am allowed to take one Pokemon, you can be the one who accompanies me. Okay?”
Pinning his ears back again, Gligar seems to consider this. After a long few moments, he sulkily nods his assent.
Ingo’s shoulders slump in relief. “Thank you for your understanding, Gligar.” He reaches a hand out, and when Gligar doesn’t pull away, rubs the smooth chitin between his ears. “I promise, I will only be gone for a few weeks. You will hardly notice!”
Privately, Bertha doubts that. She herself is already dreading returning to the apartment, certain it will be too large and too quiet without her precious child.
(One of her precious children. The other--)
(--She can’t think of that now. Not when she’s about to see Ingo off, bound for another region, headed so far from home. Even if it’s only for a little while.)
For now, Bertha says, “he’s right, Gligar. I promise, we’ll have a lot of fun together at home!”
Gligar regards her and Ingo with open doubt, huffing.
Well, it was worth a shot.
Ingo glances up at her for just a moment, before waving Gligar over. “Actually, Gligar, there is something else I want to tell you.” He looks up at Bertha seriously. “But I am afraid it must be a secret between the two of us. May we have a moment of privacy, Mother?”
With a soft laugh and an “oh, of course! Excuse me, you two,” Bertha steps a few feet away, keeping her back turned to the young trainer and his even younger Pokemon. She is the very picture of minding her own business, don’t mind her.
Ingo nods, satisfied with her distance, and waves Gligar closer.
Gligar, ever curious, forgets his bitterness for the moment and approaches.
“Now, Gligar, I have a very important job for you to perform while I am away from home,” Ingo whispers, solemn, leaning down once again to his level. “It is incredibly vital, and you are the only one I can trust with this task.”
Interest piqued, Gligar’s ears perk up, and he leans up into Ingo’s space.
“While Litwick and I are away, I need you to look after Mother, okay?” Ingo’s already-serious expression is downright grave now. “I am concerned about leaving her alone while I am in Johto, so I hope that I will be able to count on you and the others to watch out for her in my stead until our return. Can you do that?”
Gligar’s eyes widen at the gravity of this request, before he nods enthusiastically and salutes as best he can.
Ingo straightens up and returns his salute, crisp and practiced. “Thank you, Gligar! I will be counting on you, so please do your best!”
(Several feet away, Bertha is covering her face with both hands. It’s taking everything in her power not to melt on the spot.
Despite his best efforts, her darling son’s volume control still leaves much to be desired.)
[BOAT CALLS FOR BOARDING; Ingo kisses Gligar goodbye, hands him to Bertha, and kisses her goodbye before rushing to board.
He hesitates, looking back to Bertha, suddenly overcome with nerves. Bertha knows what’s happening, and waves encouragingly.
Our event has officially drawn to a close! Thank you so very much to everyone who participated, and a thank you to those who came along for the ride, too. We hope you've enjoyed!
The question has been raised, whether or not this event with recur next year. To be transparent, this year's event was nearly cancelled twice due to low turn out very early on, so it's difficult to say. We may run an interest check later in the year, and potentially look for extra event staff, but neither of those can be confirmed at this point in time.
This blog will remain up for the foreseeable future, so if you have any comments or suggestions for the mod, feel free to send a message. Even though the event has formally ended, if you'd like us to boost a belated entry, we can certainly do that for you!
Again, we'd like to extend a hearty thank you to everyone who climbed aboard to join us!
There's not any complicated headcanon that goes with this one; I just like interpreting Ingo as being trans, and specifically having transitioned in early to mid adulthood. Sometimes it's both twins, sometimes it's only him; either variant has a lot of potential.
If we're looking for an actual 'train of thought', I don't really headcanon that prolonged exposure to Litwick/being fed off of caused the twins to grey early, but there are some interesting implications to it. It would certainly make Ingo's commitment to a darker wardrobe come across as staying within a color scheme, while Emmet's lighter colors contrast. I could see that working with their characterizations.
Even though it's late, I still wanted to get this out before the last event day of the last event month. I have a couple other incomplete pieces from earlier days that I might like to polish up and post sometime, but this one is the MOST complete of the batch. (And, at over 3,000 words, it is without contest the longest thing I have EVER written at this point. Fun fact!)
This one is, um. A little strange. After playing the Alone inthe Dark remake, I just got a hankering for a survival/psychological/cosmic horror AU. Emmet was originally going to be the protag of this AU, but isn't it this Ingo's event? He should get the dubious honor of survival horror protag status. I think he wears it pretty well, personally.
Warnings: Some unreliable narrator, memory issues, something approaching a panic attack toward the end. Things lurking in the dark.
While nothing bad really happens in this one, it does very vaguely reference bad things (parental death, familial estrangement) happening in the past. Additionally, it takes a pretty sharp tonal shift about halfway through.
I personally don't think it's all that bad, but if you're not good with spooky stuff, best be cautious.
--
The river sparkles cheerfully in the bright midday sun, and Ingo has half a mind to curse it.
There’s no way he can cross this unaided. Even if Ingo were able to swim, and even if he didn’t already know for certain that some of the—creatures residing in this place could swim like Sharpedo, the river is much too wide. Ingo would exhaust himself before making it halfway.
And he is already much too familiar with the sensation of drowning.
When he gets his brother out of this place and brings him home, Ingo vows that he’ll never step foot near another body of water deeper than a bathtub for as long as he lives.
But for now… Ingo eyes that incongruent tower looming over the trees past the river.
Specifically, he examines the great emblem carved on it’s wall, glittering like gold against bright marble finish.
Digging through his coat pocket, Ingo pulls his brother’s notebook from the leather satchel he procured to try and protect it from the elements. Despite his best efforts, however, the pages are already becoming warped and filthy from the damp conditions and constant handling.
As delicately as he can, Ingo flips through the pages, searching for something he had seen during a previous examination, and… ah, there.
It’s not a perfect replica—Emmet, for all his attention to detail, has apparently never seen fit to hone the delicate hand needed for artistry—but it is close enough that Ingo can tell that this is a sketch of the selfsame sigil that stares at him from atop that bizarre, lopsided structure.
Has Emmet been there? Or has he simply seen this mark elsewhere, and recorded it for future reference?
...Is he there now?
Ingo scans the rest of the page in case there are further clues, but he knows better by now than to get his hopes up. Indeed, the only writing that seems to pertain specifically to that mark is a single word in Emmet’s even writing:
‘Pale’
He stoppers the groan before it can leave his chest, and instead pinches the bridge of his nose.
Inscrutable as always, brother.
(“I took these notes for myself,” Emmet had said once upon a time, years and forever ago. “They do not need more detail. I know what they mean.”
Ingo had draped himself partway over the edge of his bed, putting his head level with his brother’s. Emmet himself had his back propped against the foot of the bed, and leaned back enough to meet his eyes.
They had been nothing more than schoolchildren discussing their studies, not aware of the tragedies looming in their near future, and Ingo had taken flipping through Emmet’s school notes while Emmet played with Litwick.
“I know, Emmet,” Ingo had sighed, allowing Tynamo to gently press against his cheek. The offered comfort was appreciated, even if the uncontrolled static would wind up making his hair stand on end again. “I was simply hoping that your notes might elucidate the subject better than our instructor, is all.”
Emmet took the book from his brother, but didn’t put it away. Instead, he opened it to his notes from the lesson earlier that day and holds it up so they both could see.
“So show me what you do not know,” he said, grinning. “I will help you understand. Because we are--”)
“--a two-car train,” Ingo murmurs.
In the present, Ingo blinks away the memory and shakes his head. Disorienting as they are, he’s starting to get used to these flashbacks. He’s still on the fence as to whether that’s a good thing or not.
(It’s normal to forget portions of your childhood as you age. The way the human brain develops makes it inevitable. This world, bordering dreams and reality, just seem to draw those forgotten things out.
...So why does it still feel like he’s missing too much?)
Exhaling slowly from his nose, he takes a moment to recenter himself. Inscrutable or not, the emblem on that tower is the closest thing he has to a clue at this juncture, and he means to pursue it.
Which means he must reroute until he finds the line that will take him there.
--
The stairs groan and creak ominously with every step downward.
There are no lights in the stairwell; no candles, no lamps, and certainly no light bulbs (though the small boathouse is so old and unmaintained that Ingo doubts any of the wiring would have survived anyhow). The gloom is suffocating; the darkness almost a solid thing, boring down on him.
Ingo is grateful, then, for the lantern he found earlier today. Rusted and damaged it may be, the lilac flame flickering inside the faded bulb remind him that he is not alone here. Even if his trusted Lampent can’t physically follow him through the doorways leading to this world, the pale light she granted still continues to guide him.
Water suddenly trickles down from the ceiling, and he jerks the lantern away from it.
...Still, strong as she is, Lampent can’t keep a damp wick lit. Even in this odd dreamworld, that law of physics remains intact.
They’ve learned that the hard way already.
Bringing the lantern closer to himself, he continues his trek down.
In any other circumstance, Ingo is sure that would not be here. He would have taken one look at the rickety, broken-down stone-and-wood boathouse, with it’s unserviced motorboat and the crooked, oddly-placed basement door, and he surely would have turned around and gone home. It spits in the face of every safety standard he’s ever held himself to.
Nothing in this world is safe. Hostile creatures—neither human nor Pokemon, but something altogether alien—stalk him at every turn. The architecture is incomprehensible and prone to unexpected failure. Every time Ingo feels he can relax, something terrible springs from the shadows, claws aimed for his throat.
But Emmet is here, somewhere. His notes, otherwise sparse or filled with shorthand Ingo cannot understand, are meticulously dated. And they indicate that he has been coming to and from this world for nearly a year.
(Ingo never knew. Emmet never mentioned it. There was never even a hint in the letters he sent, until the one that incited Ingo’s sudden visit.
Did he think Ingo wouldn’t have believed him?)
(Would Ingo have believed him?)
A stair creaks sharply in protest, and he startles so badly that he almost loses balance.
Focus. This is no place to get lost in thoughts.
Any questions he has can be saved for if—for when he finds Emmet and convinces him to leave this wretched place.
And to do that, he needs to get the boat operational.
And for that, he needs gasoline.
Or an oar, at least.
The basement should hold something of use.
--
After five minutes of descent, Ingo decides it might be better to simply try and steer the boat with a large branch or something. He turns around and begins to climb up the way he came.
--
After ten minutes of ascent, Ingo’s lungs start to burn. The stale air here is near-suffocating.
He is not going to reach the top, it seems. Not yet, at any rate.
He tamps down the anxiety bubbling in his chest, turns around, and descends again.
The stairs creak and groan.
--
After an unknown amount of time descending, Ingo’s mind starts to wander.
Whatever could Emmet want in this wretched place? Ingo knows better than to assume that his brother is able to move easily through this world; though he had fewer scrapes and bruises than Ingo surely sports, there were plenty enough the last time they’d met to indicate that Emmet hasn’t exactly been waltzing through unhindered.
But every time Ingo tried reason with him, it was the same:
“Go home, Ingo.”
“Everything will be fine, Ingo.”
“Hurry and go home.”
“I have to do something first. And then I will write you. Okay? So you can leave. I will see you later.”
But even if his memories have faded, rusted away, Ingo can still tell when his brother is lying to him.
Ingo had begged, demanded, pleaded for Emmet to just speak to him. Let him help, if nothing else, so they can go home together.
And Emmet had hesitated, long enough that Ingo started to think that he had finally talked sense into his wayward twin.
But instead he had turned away. “It is better that you do not know,” he had said, so softly that Ingo could barely hear him.
He had looked exhausted, bone-weary. Like he’d lived a thousand lives in the decade they’d been apart.
And that…
(“Sometimes,” Mother’s voice sounds tired, heavy, “not knowing is better.”
He remembers, suddenly, sitting one the large old couch in the drawing room with Mother and Emmet; Ingo cuddled up to her left side, Emmet leaning against her right.
It had been a stormy summer day, the rain splattering loudly against the windows and the wind howling like a thing bereaved, but Ingo paid it little mind. He was simply thrilled that his mother was not only in high enough spirits to entertain them, but had sought them out for play multiple times that week.
Perhaps, he thought, this meant that Mother’s health was improving! She had promised ages ago that she would take him and Emmet on a train to see the countryside someday, but her weak heart kept her housebound anymore. The only time she left the house these days was to see some doctor or another. It must have been very dull for her, but she never complained. At least, never in earshot of the twins.
Looking back on it in the present, Ingo will also recall the way she would furtively glance at the doors and windows and sometimes speak in hushed voices, as if she feared being caught doing something bad and getting reprimanded.
By who, Ingo could not guess. Father had been away on business for much of the month, and was not due to return for another week. Though there was a nurse who stopped by to help Mother with her medicine, it was only for a half-hour during the morning. For much of the day, the three of them and their were alone in the house.
Certainly, it was only the three of them.
There were creaking floorboards and doors that opened by themselves, inexplicable chills and strange whispering noises from just outside the door; but it was just the old house settling. Father said It had been in his family for generations, and thus wear and tear is only natural.
And when one feels eyes watching unseen, or an ice-cold hand gripping one’s shoulder when there was no one else around, well, it was only childish imagination running wild. One must be mature about these things, Ingo.
Certainly.
At Mother’s words, both Ingo and Emmet had frowned.
“… I do not understand, Mother,” Ingo had said. “In what situation would having less knowledge be beneficial? That sounds counterproductive.”
Across Mother’s lap, Emmet nodded emphatically.
From what little he remembers of their childhood, Ingo knows that both he and Emmet had been what one might describe as precocious. No problem can remain unsolved if one used proper application of strategy, and the twins excelled at sussing out and utilizing all knowledge at their disposal for creative problem solving. Though there had been times where Father or their instructors became irritated with where their wits took them, their intelligence had always been highly praised.
It seemed odd for an adult to advocate for less education.
Mother herself seemed to tense for a moment, before plastering on her practiced smile.
“Well…” she said slowly, “sometimes things are—scary. Or sad.” She hesitates, as if struggling to articulate her thoughts. “Or… perhaps, too much. Too—big.”
Her hand combed through Ingo’s hair, working out the tangles, and Ingo almost wanted to stop discussing this. To just quietly agree and move on to talk about better things, like the books he and Emmet got for their birthday, or the Cottonee they had found in the garden earlier that week.
But it sat wrong with Ingo. A look over at Emmet, with his furrowed brow, told him that his twin felt the same.
Mother seemed to realize this. With a sigh, she leaned backward, bringing the twins with her.
“You’re right, Deerling,” she said slowly. “Most of the time, it’s good to study up and be smart about things. But…”
She started scratching lightly at Emmet’s head as she thought, and he relaxed further in her hold.
“… Sometimes, things just aren’t our business,” she settles on. “Sometimes… looking too hard at something will—will make it know you’re there. Looking at it.” She failed to suppress a shudder. “And then it will…” her voice becomes a haunted whisper, “it will start looking at you. And then it won’t ever stop.”
Ingo’s voice wavered in his attempt to match her low tone, “Do you mean… something bad?”
She tightens her hold on the twins. “Something dangerous,” she hissed.
And he didn’t understand. Father had said that Mother sometimes got dreams and reality confused, but she sounded so certain of what she ways saying. More certain than anyone had ever been of anything.
Ingo glanced again over at Emmet. His brother seemed to be thinking very hard.
After another heavy silence, Mother spoke again. “That’s why you need to be careful, okay? Our family… It’s easier for us to—to see dangerous things. And to be seen by them.”
She sat up, tapping her boys cheeks to make sure they are looking at her. Her face was like stone.
“So promise Mama, okay? Promise me that if you—if you see something that feels dangerous and scary,” her hands start to tremble, “promise me that you’ll close your eyes. Don’t look.” She grips their shoulders. “Whatever happens, just walk away and don’t think about it. Okay?”
And her gaze was heavy, and it felt like this was the most important promise he’d ever make to her, so he nodded. “I promise, Mother,” he said, voice barely audible for once.
She nods in approval, and turns her stony gaze to her youngest. “Emmet?”
Emmet hesitated.
She shook his shoulder. “Emmet,” she said, her voice low; and in that moment she was almost scarier than their Uncle’s dragons.
After a few long, tense moments, Emmet looked up at mother.
He said: “But why?”)
----
Ingo misses the next step.
Falls.
He curls up, trying to protect his head and neck with his unoccupied arm. Tries to get his legs under him, tries to break his fall—this stairwell has already gone on endlessly, the longer he falls the more at risk he is of further injury, he can’t—
He hits the water at the bottom with a splash.
For a split second, he panics, only barely able to keep himself from gasping in the stale, stagnant water covering his head. He holds the lantern above him, can’t let her go out, he can’t function in the pitch-black nothing of this pit alone without a light--
And then he pushes himself up, sitting in a soaked heap in a pool of water less than two feet deep.
But why, but why, but why? What could be worse than this? Than not knowing?
Floundering in the dark, with a light that struggles to shine more than a few feet ahead, violence and cruelty biting his heels at all times.
His heart is pounding, beating at his eardrums as he trembles and shakes with force from the ice still rushing through his veins. His arm still stiffly holds the lantern above his head because he cannot risk losing her light to the dirty water surrounding him.
It’s better not to know, they say, but all Ingo wants is to know, why? What did mother see? What does Emmet know?
The still silence of the room he landed in is broken by small splashes of water and ragged gasps that Ingo cannot control.
What makes Emmet so afraid that he cannot bear to even imagine sharing his burden with his own twin? The one who was once his closest friend, his most trusted confidant? What could be so terrible?
What is he missing--?
A dozen steps up the stairway behind him, the stairs groan and creak.
Ingo freezes. Holds his breath. Listens.
Footsteps, so delicate and light that they are almost drowned out by the protesting wood, are getting closer. A fluttering buzz, like an insect’s wings, drift down from the dark.
Those are not the even, measured steps of his brother. They are not the calculated, cautious steps of the detective that accompanied him here.
Ingo stands, slowly, holding his lantern toward the stairs. It rattles with the force of his shaking.
He knows those steps.
He does not know those steps.
But he knows them. He knows them, and he needs to go, to go, to go, before--
Just outside the range of the lantern, a shadow flickers in the stairwell.
And Ingo suddenly believes that, if he stays, if he waits for that entity reach the landing, he can know.
He can know what it was that crushed his mother under it’s weight until she could live with it no longer. He can know what it is that changed his brother so drastically after her death, that wore him down to the thin specter that greeted him in that dismal study just this morning.
But what would it cost?
A small polished shoe breaches the light. The buzzing vibrates against his eardrums.
(He needs to find Emmet. Nothing else matters.)
Ingo stumbles backwards, the water hindering his movement, before turning and running the opposite direction.
He has no way of quantifying the amount of time he spends running other than the burning of his lungs and the weakness of his legs, but some indeterminable time later, he bursts through a door and is immediately blinded by a searing light.
It catches him off guard, and he trips, scraping his hand and knees against wet stones and sand. The lantern clatters against the ground.
He has the presence of mind, still, to reach behind him and slam the door closed. Scooting back until his back is pressed against it, holding it shut, he tries utilize his hearing while his eyes adjust.
Running water. Wind blowing and rustling… leaves?
Ingo blinks his eyes open.
Though he has no memory climbing any stairs in his mad escape, he has somehow made it back to surface level. He is sitting next to the river that started this whole mess.
Across the river from where he sits stands a rickety stone-and-wood boathouse, an unmaintained motor boat tied to it’s dock.
Behind the small shack he rests against, there is a thick and uninviting forest.
And, less than a mile deep into those woods… a marble and gold tower looms over the treeline, bearing a familiar emblem.
… One small blessing, at least: he won’t have to put his faith in that rotted little boat.
Still breathing heavy, Ingo slumps against the door and covers his eyes.
A brief layover. That’s all he needs. Just… a few moments.
The trope of a trans character meeting their future self is a fascinating one-- but we can take it further. With amnesia in the mix, only the bat is any the wiser.
This is a bonus, because Chandelure-themed Ingo designs always make me think of Lewis. I have no idea how the stuff with Mushi's counterpart would even work, since the twins are, you know, twins, and have the same ancestors. Maybe don't examine the details too closely.
I'll go ahead and drop this after sitting on it for so long for @spr-ingo. This is for "Alternator" (AU). A PLA AU based on Yu-Gi-Oh. Feel free to have fun with this idea if you want to do another version.
It is something that has been stewing in my brain for a while but has gotten a bit too big for me. I'll see if I write anything for it. So here it is. Have fun! What spurred this idea was thinking that Emmet would be pissed if some spirit kept possessing him to fight pokemon battles.
Nameless Warden AU
Premise:
This is an au based of the original Yu-Gi-Oh plot. There was no chosen hero sent by Arceus in this timeline. Ingo is still accidentally transported to the past by unknown means. It's coincidental. He is without any prior memory. And is gifted the name Nobori(because it is convenient). Is this plot convoluted to get to a desired scenario? Yes!
In this universe Wardens hold a bit more blessed power in their assignments. The Warden bands(or other catalyst I am open to changing this) connect them to the blessed pokemon and act as a catalyst for Almighty Sinnoh's power. It's not game breaking power but it is things like the ability to be somewhat in tune with the land and its pokemon or predict the future. It's not important. The point is that these artifacts are a direct connection to the primordial powers. Which one is entirely based on who they believe in/ wish to commune with. It is very personal.
Nobori/Ingo is chosen by Sneasler and comes into possession of a sacred band. He is not as adept with the power that is bestowed upon him because he hasn't had as much time with the clan's religion, but he was the only accepted choice. He is still great at his job with his talents with pokemon and instincts so it becomes less of an issue.
Shit hits the fan while Volo spins his web. It is a trial with many injuries, but the Wardens are able to work together and calm the Nobles from their frenzy. Warden Calaba gets injured, her sacred band goes missing and Ursaluna is dying. Volo gets a hold of the item. And uses that to further tap into Giratina's power usurp the Almighty. He manages to frenzy both Dialga and Palkia which destabilizes the Wardens' connection to their chosen deity.
To summarize how the situation is solved: Ingo is less connected to Palkia than his other clan mates and was always more open to the idea of multiple higher beings as it just made sense. He realizes(through various means not touched upon) there must be a larger power other than space, time, and distortion. If he could appeal to this being he could have the power to stop this and possibly contain the distortion in a similar way to how Volo had detained the two Sinnohs. He is able to gain the approval and link to Arceus(a very hard being to appeal to. See Volo) and, through great effort, seals Giratina and the distortion world away using the power of his soul. Volo is seething, of course, that this Nobody has gained approval of Arceus and is using that power to seal them away.
Much like with the Pharaoh in Yu-Gi-Oh it is sealed with his entire soul and his name (which nobody knows not even him) is the key. Ingo's soul, now with amnesia x2, is sealed in his Warden's band artifact as a spirit. His true name is already unknown to everyone, but lore keepers erase his given one as well as many depictions of him from records as well just to be safe. Volo is definitely the Bakura of this plot and was similarly placed in the stolen Ursaluna artifact.
Ingo has been gone 4-7 years. I haven't decided.
The Future:
(warning: it/it's pronouns used briefly due to lack of knowledge. Evolves to they/them then he/him)
Emmet is given a strange box by an old friend of his brother's, Shauntal, who stated that she bought this in Sinnoh from an antique shop because that's just her hobby. They saw each other while at a party that Burgh dragged him to. She says she just feels like it should belong to him, which would be weird if it was not a completely normal thing for her to do. So he accepts with little thought. It's a puzzle box. Perfect he loves a challenge. He feels possessed(metaphorically) to solve it that night. Finds the strange band and wears it with no thought as if he has always had it.
After a while Emmet starts noticing that he is losing time. It's mostly on the Singles line when he is tired and the battles are boring anyway so he pays it no mind, but then It happens once on the Doubles and that is a step too far. He investigates his footage and sees that he is still battling, but with a strange slumped posture and a dour look. The strange thing possessing him is doing well. Even if it makes him look a bit feral. So he is being possessed. He knows that the only change to his person has been that item that was given to him. He doesn't really want to get rid of it for some reason, but it is interfering with his work. He visits Shauntal and demands she uncurses the object. She is surprised that there is such a strong spirit there in the first place. It was dormant and weak when she gave him the box. They must really like him.
They communicate with the spirit and determine that they are just as confused and aren't malevolent. Emmet sets some boundaries that they can stick around as long as it asks before battling in his stead. Heck he might even let them on some occasions like on the boring ass singles line.
TLDR Emmet gets a new spirit friend and learns how to be close to someone again. Slowly the spirit relearns who he is thanks to his new friend.
Also Cynthia uncovers some Hisuian artifacts, including a certain stolen one, so watch out for that.
---
That's the gist of it. There are other versions I was playing with, but this is the one I am liking the best now. Also so many ways that this story can continue that I haven't really thought of.
Alternator/X-ing for @spr-ingo! This is silly but I really enjoy Suika Game so I thought it'd be fun to get creative and I was right! I might consider taking suggestions on fruit Poke'mon combos hehe.
Fresh Coat of Paint for @spr-ingo! I thought puffy sleeves would look cute on him!!! And I wanted to play with a different shading style while I was at it.
There's not much of a story to go with this one, I just wanted to play with PMD... and then ended up designing a Lucario variant to go with it. The only further thought I've put into this is that maaaaybe it's a Shedinja situation with regards to evolution. Make of that what you will.
For @spr-ingo "off-script". just some fun with Ingo and Emmet on their first battle together on the Multi train after Ingo returns.
I am sick and did not edit this like I wanted, but I still wanted to post today.
----
The first day back to the battle lines was a long anticipated one for Ingo. After months of successful and unsuccessful reintegration this was a goal that made his heart burn with desire. Of all the unfamiliarity that accompanied him in his day to day the conducting of battles was one that always stuck with Ingo even when he barely remembered that he was , in fact, Ingo. So now with memories barely scraping by as familiarity it was a much needed step forward for both his recovery and his sanity.
It was multi lines only for now because of further safety preparations and checks needed before allowing solo control of a giant metal death trap, but it was still so worth it. The energy stewing between himself and his brother as they awaited the arrival of their first valiant challengers was electric. They could not stop the excitement in every twitch of the wrist and stamp of their feet. This feeling of being so in sync with someone was both foreign and familiar. He and Emmet had prepared their teams, strategized, practiced and learned each other's mannerisms all over again. Even now the silence is often interrupted by future adjustments.
When the first set of challengers to make it to them showed up it was a friendly surprise. A young man in blue gaped and a young woman sporting two buns and the confidence of a champion had stars in her eyes.
"Oooooooh wow! Elesa had totally suggested we come challenge today! I had a feeling why but it's still sooo exciting!" Champion Rosa cheered in infectious excitement.
"It's so good to see you both as a duo again sirs it has been too long!" Added Nate.
The sentiment was, of course returned in twofold.
"I have been early awaiting my return as well, Miss Rosa, Mister Nate. We both are eager to resume this track together, of course!" Replied Ingo
Emmet jumped in, "Yup! Although it is currently a trial run until Ingo is completely certified again so it was not advertised. I am Emmet and I am glad it was you two who made it here first! I want this to be a fun battle. So let us do so."
"Of course!" "Yayyyy!"
There was a pause in the room that followed while everyone readied their pokemon was a bit odd afterward despite the anticipation. As if something is missing Ingo looks toward Emmet and he looks mildly panicked for some reason. Emmet glances at Ingo with a slightly intense yet guilty look.
Ingo stares and thinks for a moment then seems to understand. Of course, Emmet has mentioned that they worked in tandem in all situations. While it had been a while it was probably Ingo who took the lead in this situation before and he is feeling guilty about forgetting to remind him. It is no issue. For Ingo knows how to conduct a battle.
Before Ingo can say anything Emmet speaks up "I am Emmet, a Subway Boss. He is Ingo. We are a team! We cover each other's weaknesses! We want to see how strong you are together in turn." He finishes abruptly, pauses then adds "Anything to add, brother?"
Emmet looks over with a bead of sweat as if questioning whether or not to throw the spotlight over, but Ingo just gives him a small genuine smile. He will take it from here!
"Yes! Now then. Follow the rules and drive safely! We are headed for victory! ALL ABOOOARD!"
There is giggling and laughing from the whole room as they throw out their pokemon. This battle will be a great start on a new track to victory!
----
I thought it would be fun to have Ingo say his canon version of Emmet's multi train line and also force Emmet to say his version of Ingo's.
