An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A soul split, but never apart.
Link - Wild - has traveled far and wide and has yet to figure out that he's never done so alone.
Champion is just along for the ride and he's pretty happy with that. Now, if he could only convince Wind...
or to quote chiangyorange - less of a 'something else came out of the shrine' and more of a 'not everything is where they should be'
Wrote a little fic based off of @chiangyorange 's 'one foot in the grave' au! Hope yall like it!
The sun had only just disappeared under the treetops when Genya felt Sanemi coming. Genya was still in his room, carefully tending to his bonsai trees. He had just enough time to turn around and set down his clippers. His door was thrown open with a loud snap.
Sanemi was backlit by the moon, his eyes the only thing not hidden by the shadow. They glowed a manic green. “How many times are we going to have to do this, huh?!”
”Aniki-“
”Don’t.” The room shook with every step Sanemi took closer. “You have one fucking job. One job! I literally could not make it any easier for you!”
Genya scrambled to his feet, but it was pointless. Sanemi still towered over him. He always did. “I- sorry, I’ll do better.”
“‘Better’?” Sanemi’s voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “If you could do ‘better’ then we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation.”
Body locking up, head bowed and throat tight, Genya cowered from the truth of that statement.
For a long moment, neither brother moved or spoke. Then, Sanemi brought a hand up and dropped it onto Genya’s head. Genya kept his eyes on the floor. Fingers ran through his hair, dispelling tangles with a gentleness that was at odds with the tension still in the air.
“Remember Genya,” Sanemi said. “Your only job is to stay here and to eat what I bring you. Okay?”
Eyes glossy with unshed tears, Genya nodded. “Y-yes.”
“I have a mission from the master, so I’ll be gone for a few days. Do not leave the estate or forget to eat while I’m gone.” Sanemi’s hand caught a strand of Genya’s hair, inspecting the ends where the yellow was starting to disappear.
“Of course,” Genya said, risking a peek upwards. Sanemi was still studying the stand of hair, but his gaze flickered downwards and they’re eyes met.
Some of the tension bled from Sanemi’s frame, and he released Genya’s hair so that he could kneel. Now closer to eye level with his brother, Sanemi placed his hands on his shoulders. Yellow met green, and Genya felt his own worry and tension leave him. Aniki was just worried about him. He always was. It’s Genya’s own fault for always worrying him.
“If you need me, don’t hesitate to reach out.” Sanemi said, one hand coming up to cup the side of his face, thumb brushing against Genyas scar. “I’ll see if I can’t bring you back something nice. A new yukata maybe? You’ve had this one for what, a decade now?”
Genya pulled at the helm of his yukata, the familiar purple fabric was a little thin. “You don’t have to…”
Sanemi’s hand joined his at the helm, letting out a displeased humm when he felt the state it was in. “No, you definitely need a new one. I’ll bring some extra fabric as well, so that you can have spares. Sorry, I should have realized you were overdue for a replacement.”
”No!” Genya denied vehemently. Fabric bunched up in his small fists. “It’s not your fault that I can’t regenerate them-“ like you.
“None of that.” Sanemi caught his much smaller hands in his. “You don’t need to be able to do that when I can just as easily get you new ones. I won’t forget again.” The last part had more weight behind it. Genya had a feeling that he’d be drowning in new yukatas before long.
Knowing that it was pointless to argue further, he nodded. He didn’t fight the hug he was pulled into, just hooked his chin over Sanemi’s broad shoulder and held on just as tight.
Set in my 'the future us written; the ink is dry' au, where an older version of Wild travels with the LU Chain, starting at the beginning of their adventure. All of my Linktober prompts will be set in this vers, but not necessarily in order.
Day 1: Knight
“A royal knight?” Warriors sounds surprised, and impressed.
“Yeah!” Indie gestures with the ladle, “Or, I was. I was fired.”
“Fired?!” Now Warriors sounds worried, and a little angry. “What did you do?”
Indie stirs the stew, unconcerned by the outburst. “Nothing, don't get your chainmail in a knot. Zelda called it an 'Honorable Discharge'.”
That took all of the wind out of Warriors sails. “Ah,” He coughed into a fist. “I see.”
Hmm, now that Indie thinks about it, he might still have the letter she'd given him in his bag. He should get around to reading that soon.
Well, the soup would keep for a bit. No time like the present.
After making sure the soup would actually keep, he wonders over to his bag and does a little digging. “Ah, here it is!”
He holds the letter up, getting the nosy attention of everyone present.
“What's that?” The royal seal was clear on the front.
Indie smiles at Warriors and brandishes it at him. “Zelda gave this to me.” He flips the letter around so that he could scrutinize the seal himself. “Haven't read it yet.”
Warriors was scandalized. “What? Why?”
“Well,” Indie taps the corner of the letter to his chin. “At first I was a little angry, and then there was this weird portal, and then this group of even weirder men—”
“Oh, give me that!” Warriors snatches it. “An official letter from the royal family and you haven't even opened it!”
He gently breaks the seal. Wind and Legend shamelessly crowd in on either side of him, trying to get a peak. The rest looked like they were either trying to pretend that they weren’t watching – Time, Twilight – or were still too hesitant to come so close – Hyrule, Sky and Four.
Indie’s pretty sure there are laws against opening other peoples’ mail, but maybe they don't apply when you're in a completely different era of time? Something to ask Zelda when he next saw her.
Warriors starts to read the letter, mumbling along at first with the words, elbowing his nosy hanger-ons when they got in the way. And then he chokes. He rereads the line again, and his jaw drops.
“What?” Indie hopes Zelda hadn’t written anything embarrassing, thinking that Indie would be the only one to read it.
Warriors lets out a concerning wheeze, before handing the letter to him and pointing out a line about three-fourths of the way down. The two older heroes daftly keep it out of a reaching Wind’s grasp.
Indie reads the line. Slaps Wind’s hand away. And then he reads it again.
“...oh wow,” ‘….you and onto your heirs, for as long as you both may live, a yearly sum of --’ “That’s a lot of money.”
Lionbat (Leon S. Kennedy/Bruce Wayne) accidentally married in Vegas au drabble:
Leon studied the ring on his finger. It was nice. Certainly nicer then any of the scant jewlery he owned. A simple gold band, classic, but with engravings that gave it a personalized touch. Looking at it, you could be mistaken into thinking that a lot of thought and care went into its selection. The hazy, drunken and hasty window shopping that had actually preluded its purchase would be enough to make even the lightest of romantics cringe.
But still, "When in Vegas..." he looked down at the slumbering, hungover form still asleep in bed beside him. There was a matching ring on the hand thrown over his hips. Leon leaned over to get a better look at his bedfellow's face. "...get wasted and marry a billionaire, apparently."
Bruce Wayne groaned weakly and turned, trying to hide from the growing daylight. He looked fine, just some light bruises from the attack- yesterday? Probably yesterday - and extremely hungover. The man had been very enthusiastic about thanking the DSO agent who'd stepped in and helped containe the outbreak in Wayne Industry's local branch.
A Batman and TMNT crossover! Here's a little snippet of what I've written so far. 2003 Don and Tim Drake centered :)
-----
It starts with Steph laying upside down on the couch, legs kicking in the air, asking him: “Hey, Tim, want to come get piercings with me?”
His first thought is: ‘I don’t have ears.’
His second, when he has a second to chew on that thought and carefully not speak it into being, is: ‘Ah, it’s going to be one of those days.’
In the end, he turns down her offer, but agrees to go with her, for moral support and so that she’ll have an alibi when her mom asks later.
“Hey, Donny, is this for April?” Mikey asks. He’s holding up a bottle of shampoo he’d just liberated from a shopping bag.
He looks at the bottle, and thinks: ‘Yeah, definitely one of those days.’
“Yes.” He lies. “For her and Casey, when they stay over. Just stick it in the shower, if you will.”
“Sure thing!” Mikey sets it down on the counter, and goes back to putting away the rest of the groceries. Donatello stands up from the table to help him, leaving behind his coffee and papers. They would keep, and today isn’t a day he should be getting lost in his own thoughts. Plus, this will let him keep an eye on anything else he’d accidently added to the grocery list.
After they’re done with that, he asks Mikey if he wanted to go take a spin on the Sewer Slider. Mikey will look at him for a moment, smile wide, and agree. Steph will show him all the new earrings she wants to get, he’ll make a mental note of some of them for her birthday, and then he’ll grab a bush and ask her to braid his hair. She’ll agree without hesitation, and then start practicing her fish-tail braid, even though his hair isn’t quite long enough for it.
Steph and Mikey will keep up a steady stream of chatter, occasionally asking him questions to keep him engaged, and he’ll pay special attention. Today is one of those days, where the lines - as thin and invisible as they are - start to blur and disappear. Where Timothy Drake and Donatello Splinterson stop being able to be two separate people. Where his brain starts sending error codes as it desperately tries to understand how it could be in Gotham and New York at the same time. Where it sends itself into a loop, trying to understand how he can only have six fingers when he has ten fingers when he has a shell but he doesn’t when he has hair but he doesn’t-
Today, the line - even though there really isn’t a line, because he is him, both Tim and Don all together at the same time all the time - blurs, and he has to stay firmly rooted in his two bodies. Has to remind his brain that he does have two bodies, and yes, that is normal for him. And the best way to do that, is to stay in the moment, keep focus, and let his brother and best friend remind him. Even if they don’t know what they’re reminding him of.
Akari isn’t ashamed to say that she's a little noisy. It’s a trait that’s served her - and everyone else - well during her time in Hasui. So it’s without shame that she follows that sound of raising voices. She’d just finished checking up on the pokemon working in the fields and about to go craft some pokeballs. But that can wait - things seem to be escalating quickly. Better to nip it in the bud then have to clean up whatever is happening later, when it becomes an even bigger mess.
The noise led her down to Prologue Beach, where there was a small boat pulled up to the dock. There were several crates and barrels both in the boat and on the dock. A much larger vessel was anchored further out, and she wonders if this means that they’re getting more people or if it’s all simply supplies. Jubilife relies on ships like these to get necessities and other goods that they trade with the Clans. So, it wasn’t a great sign that one of the Supply Corps members was gesturing down at an open crate like it had personally offended her. The shiphand had taken off his hat and was gesturing with it in turn, looking no happier.
So absorbed by their argument, they don’t notice her approach until she’s almost right on top of them. Which is saying something, the people here being vigilant to the point of paranoia. Of course, it’s not paranoia if they're really out to get you and all that jazz. Akari knows this, has the scars to prove it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get exhausting sometimes.
“What seems to be the problem?” Akari makes sure to use her best polite, but firm, voice. She was a nine star Survey Corps member after all.
“This man-” The Supply Corp member gestures to the sailor with just as much dismay as she’d given the crate a moment ago. “-is trying to swindle us.”
“Why, I’d never!” The man huffed.
“How?” Akari interrupted before they could get into it again.
“Look at this! I certainly didn’t put in any orders for eggs, let alone have one of them mixed in with the mint.”
Akari leaned in, and sure enough, there was a little red egg nestled in with the assortment of herbs. “Ah.”
“We aren't asking you to pay for the damn thing!” The sailor claimed, defensive. “It’s just that my captain would kill me if I tried to bring it back on board with me.”
“So you’re just trying to get rid of it?” Akari asked.
“Then toss it off the side of the boat for all I care!” The Supply Corps women gestured to the sea behind them. She looked like she was going to continue but her gaze snapped to Akari. The sailor was also now giving Akari a weird look.
Ah, she’d made a weird noise at the suggestion. Woops. Sometimes she wasn’t quick enough to tamper down on those instincts. The instincts that swore that pokemon shouldn’t be hurt, shouldn’t be hated.
Akari understood the need to be vigilant, but the idea of cutting this young life short without giving it a chance left a bad taste in her mouth.
She cleared her throat, and then reached into the crate. “No need for that. I’ll take it off your hands.”
The two of them didn’t try to stop her, but they both continued to stare at her like she’d grown a second head. Akari didn’t partially care. She’d gotten very good at not caring what people thought since arriving here, especially since the whole ‘banishment’ business. She knows that the Commander won’t try that again, but that just means that she no longer cares about walking on eggshells around everyone. She’ll use her modern sayings and coo over pokemon in the middle of town all she wants. It’s her own little form of payback, if she’s being honest. Ingo calls it ‘teenage rebellion’, which isn’t wrong.
Holding the egg to her chest, she had to wonder if she’d cared for eggs before, because the weight was familiar. It’s not all too dissimilar to that first day, when she first held a pokeball. She couldn’t remember even seeing one before, but she knew what it was before the Professor gave them to her, and they felt right.
“Well,” She looked back at them both, gaze now sharp. “I think you were in the middle of off loading these supplies? The sun will be setting before long, and I don’t think you want to be out at sea before it does. Not with that boat at least.”
The sailor huffed, but didn’t argue, and the Galaxy Team member simply nodded and went back to inspecting the supplies.
Akari turned to go, made it about three steps, before stopping. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, and if you get any more eggs mixed in, just bring them to me.”
Her voice broke no argument. And she didn’t even wait for the confirmation from the two of them before continuing on. She’s glad that they can’t see the proud grin on her face. She’d been practicing that voice for a while. An imitation of Cyllenes own commanding, no nonsense, ‘you better listen to me or else’ voice.
Akari stops right before entering town proper, and debates over what to do next. She could hide the egg and take care of it in her house, but she might get called away to do field research. The last thing she wants is to leave it alone. What if it hatches when she’s not around? Even if she wasn’t treading quiet so carefully these days doesn’t mean she wants to be called into Headquarters to explain why she’d left a wild, unknown, pokemon roam free in the middle of village.
“I wonder who you’ll be.” She whispered down at her little passenger.
…Oh! Passenger! Ingo! She knows that he helps Lady Sneasler take care of her eggs, so that puts him one up and literally anyone else she could ask. Plus, he'd be a lot less weary about helping her hatch an unknown pokemon.
With some semblance of a plan, she strode back into town.
“We are officers of the Grand Army of the Republic,” Rex eyed the mess in front of him like he might a particularly troubling mission statement. “We can handle some dishes.”
“Of course,” Ahsoka said with more confidence than she felt. “How hard can it be?”
They both squinted at the pile of dishes currently overflowing from the sink. Their sink. Because this apartment was theirs, which meant that they had to take care of it. Which meant having to do dishes. Fully grown, well adjusted adults do dishes all the time. And they’re at least two of those three things, so it can’t be that hard.
They might have been putting it off for a while now. And maybe she’d been just buying more dishes in an attempt to keep from cleaning them. In her defense, the Order, with its extensive archive and more classes than you could possibly hope to take in one lifetime, hadn’t included ‘daily chores’ in her curriculum. And Rex has had even fewer chances to learn such basic life skills.
But how hard can it be?
One of the mugs that had been balanced precariously on top of the stack finally gives up the fight against gravity. Ahsoka catches it with the Force and Rex huffs at her, amused. Technically, such frivolous use of the Force was frowned upon, but there was no one there to scold her for it, and even if they were, it wouldn’t stop her. She’s no longer part of the Order, which means she can catch as many dirty coffee cups as she wants. Or, at least, that’s what she’s telling that guilty little voice in her head that sounds a lot like Master Kanobi.
“You wash and I’ll dry?” Ahsoka offers after a moment of them just standing there. She’d set the dirty cup gently down on the counter.
Rex tilts his head to look at her with a bemused expression. “What does that even mean?”
She shrugs. “That’s what they always say in the holovids.”
Rex sighs. She shrugs again.
“I’m just going to look it up on the holonet.” He turned to walk back into the living room, presumably to get a datapad. “I’m sure we’re not the only ones that have no idea what we’re doing.”
She thought about calling him a quitter, but decided against it. She honestly wasn’t feeling up to fumbling her way through the dark on this one either. Sometimes pride isn’t worth the trouble.
Jaune never thought he would have something like this. To be fair he doesn’t think anyone expects to be in a mutual relationship with all four of his teammates, but life is full of the unexpected, especially for Huntsmen and Huntresses. And here he is, surrounded by people he loves and – miracle of miracle – love him back.
A yellow flower that looks kind of like a rose brushes across his face. Jaune can feel another sneeze coming one. He does his best to hide it in his shoulder and under a fake cough. Luckily some of Nora’s ‘romantic’ heavy rock music is playing loud enough so that no one hears him, and they’re all busy trying organize a room full of flowers. Gifts from Ruby, who accidentally ordered all of them, using Weiss’s credit card, and was forced by said partner to get rid of all of it, fast. Team JNPR came back from morning practice to a messy note on their door and a room full of flora.
The flowers are all beautiful, it’s just a shame that they were plotting Jaunes demise.
“And these ones we have to keep, Ren and you can squish them in books,”
“That sounds like a lovely idea.” Pyrrha was doting over several dozen daisy’s with contentment in her eyes.
Nora speeds from a bundle of blue bells and too a vase full of yellow flowers, the same kinda that had been forced into his arms by said girl nearly half an hour ago. “Ohhhh, more Jauney flowers! They're fluffy and yellow like your hair, but those ones over there are blue, like your eyes, or these ones which are purple like your face, but the-.”
Nora’s zipping around came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room, before she slowly turns towards her blond boyfriend. And sure enough, their fearless leader’s face was no longer it’s regular pale tone. Pyrrha is staring at him now, eyes wide and several daisys crushed in her hand.
Jaune wants to open his mouth and reassure his partners, but enough air wasn’t reaching his lungs.
Ren, who had been pressing flowers into a book – one that Pyrrha got him for just that purpose – and was the closes, was wearing a nice blue shirt. One of Jaune’s if he’s not mistaken, it feels like it against his face at least. The part he still had feeling in that is.
Jaune wonders what first year him would say if he saw this, third year him being rushed to the infirmary in the arms of his boyfriend. Probably something insecure and in denial. That’s fine, third year him is perfectly warm and protected. He might be passing out, but that just means that it’s a Tuesday. (It happens all the time, for a number of different reasons. Jaune’s gotten used to it, as have the nurses and doctors of Beacon. His partners on the other hand… )
