Hi hi hi! Just dropping this here. Been sick alllll week and if I had to have a shitty time then so does Sky ❤️ And also Time, because dealing with anything medical is a pain in the ass
--------
“-No, you’re not understanding. I don’t care what the test says, there is something wrong and you need to figure it out!”
“Sir, please. I looked at the results myself. There’s nothing in his bloodwork that indicates anything out of the ordinary-”
“Nothing out of the ordinary? I had to pick him off the floor this morning because he couldn’t stand!”
“Yes, I understand that-"
"Do you?"
"Yes, I do. Really, I do. I understand that you're concerned. But his bloodwork is-”
“I don’t care about the goddamn bloodwork!"
“Sir, please calm down-”
"If that test isn't showing anything wrong then do more tests."
"Sir, with all due respect, I don't believe more testing is necessary. His weight is slightly below average for his build - I think the weakness is just from poor diet and exercise. I can recommend a good dietician-"
"We don't need a dietician - we need a doctor who'll actually DO THEIR FUCKING JOB!"
Sky leans forward in his seat and rests his head on the edge of the doctor's desk, closing his eyes. All the yelling from the hallway is audible through the closed door and it makes his already aching head throb even more intensely. The cool wood is soothing.
Not as soothing as laying down would be, though. Sky knows Time is arguing for him, goddess knows why, but right now he wishes the man would just stop and drive them home instead. The chairs in the doctors office are uncomfortable and stiff, and sitting in them is making his bones ache.
Although, Sky is used to that. It's hard to remember a time when they didn’t ache. It’s more intense these days, but it’s been years since he’s known a day without pain. A few over the counter pain meds used to be enough to manage it. But these days it doesn’t make a dent. Add that to the sudden exhaustion and the long bouts of nausea, and Sky’s been feeling particularly pathetic these days.
Good days used to mean “tip top shape”. Now they mean he can eat without vomiting and walk without feeling like he’s going to black out.
Sky sighs into the desk. He really misses feeling good.
The door bursts opens with so much force that the doorknob dents the wall. Time storms back into the office, expression stormy.
Sky opens one eye. “Did they call security on us again?”
“Come on,” Time says, quickly gathering their things. “Get your coat on. We’re leaving.”
----
This is like the third dr office that Time has been kicked out from and he's not sorry.
A lot of young people with chronic illnesses have a hard time getting properly diagnosed. There's often a lot of "you're too young to be sick" mentality that they have to deal with. When you're young and look kinda healthy it can be really difficult to find a doctor who will take you seriously and do all the necessary testing.
That's what Sky is dealing with rn. In RB he doesn't have Sunny to bully his doctors so Time is helping him out now. They're finding out first hand how shitty it can be to go through the arduous process of hospital visits and jumping through hoops and going from dept to dept trying to find out exactly what's wrong.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
The Team Bonding "series" continues with this latest commission for a very dear friend of mine. The group lands in Ordon Village, and there just aren't enough places in Twilight's home for eight heroes to sleep. A sort of "there was only one bed" scenario that turns out as you would expect for Time and Twilight.
☔️ for the ask? I love hearing about concepts! Especially the ones that’ll never hit the paper.
-miniscrew
OH BOY this took a minute to think on but I think I got one @miniscrew-anon
For the life of me I can’t figure out how to write it, but I really really want to explore Wild’s relationship with his dysphoria/lack thereof. I’ve genuinely tried putting it to paper more than once, but each time I can’t seem to get the vibe quite down in a way that resonates with what I enjoy about it in my head
Under a read more because it’s long, and has to do with HRT, gender dysphoria, panic attacks, discussion of needles, and trans!Wild having an overall Bad Time for a day within a 99.99% positive experience being trans otherwise.
As a disclaimer upfront, I am transmasculine nonbinary myself, and feel that I have a right to depict explorations of that experience in combination with binary ftm experiences. Also, this is NOT a story about detransitioning or “forced feminization,” do NOT get it fucking twisted or I will hunt you down. I will find you. This is about euphoria and dysphoria and happiness with one's body but clothing/presentation causing issues.
So for background, in my headcanons, I’m pretty convinced that Wild normally doesn’t experience dysphoria at all - something that very much separates him from Champion, whom is a very binary trans man. Wild woke up in a very masculine post-transition non-op body, Champion had been very satisfied with himself and his transition, having begun it as a teen with access to puberty blockers prior to hrt, so he never went through estrogen puberty. Wild is at first pretty bad at keeping track of and administering his hrt shots, something that Champion was very strict about and pretty much never failed to keep up with. At first, the other guard boys had to help him with them when he did remember because the anticipation of a shot is TERRIBLE for wanting to get it done when you have adhd and it’s something you don’t really think matters in your own personal upkeep. Eventually, Wild just kinda gives up on it with a happy shrug and carries on his merry way in his very androgynous body, transness usually being a fun afterthought for him. Even when he starts retaining fat differently, and growing breast tissue through lazy estrogen puberty, he’s having fun with this new experience! Heck yeah more gender fuckery, he’s having a great time being a man while doing it. Nobody in his life invalidates his gender over it. Period.
However.
There is an idea that I must credit to Stormy for sparking but has been making me lose my mind (/pos) over ever since, wherein at some point Wild goes to the mall with one of the other boys (possibly Hyrule, possibly Wars and Sky, never been able to figure that one out) to shop for higher end lingerie. (I see this fic as separate from and kinda irrelevant to the second puberty concept, so disregard that point for now and play with me in this space.) And he picks out some really cute finds! He's very happy with some lacy little numbers that he knows will go well with his eyes or whatever, but you know how they make lingerie that comes in pairs with bras that are equally as cute? Well, he goes to try one on, and standing there in the changing room, looking in the mirror, the world kinda stops.
There’s this overwhelming sense of badwrongbad while looking at himself in a bra. He doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror, he doesn’t like that person, and has no real way of articulating it to himself why.
Now, bear in mind, Wild very technically is a dissociative fugue state initially brought on by a severe concussion, which is a WHOLE OTHER can of worms I hope to explore one day. As thorough of a personality change there is though, he’s not as stable of an existence as I think he presents
So something about how he feels about seeing this sets off a dissociative panic attack that is probably the closest thing that he’s ever come to Champion surfacing into active memory, bearing some resemblance to the one in The Brave that was set off by Time playing the ocarina.
But is the bra too small? The wrong material? Who knows. Doesn’t matter. He’s suffocating. His skin itches like hell. He needs this thing off now.
Once he exits, the guys he’s with immediately notice a shift. He’s uncharacteristically serious for a beat or two, maybe even recognizable if he’s with the guard boys, but if he’s not nonverbally putting stuff on the reject rack, Wild laughs it off as nothing being wrong. Either Wild or someone else points out they can go get a smoothie after Wild decides he’s not buying any clothes, and his day gets a little better. The temperature of it maybe makes his nipples a little hard and Wild doesn’t know why he’s so aware and uncomfortable with that right now, but the others might also notice that he’s still periodically itching where the band and straps were until they get home.
By the time they leave the mall, he’s more or less fine and all of the Overwhelming Dread has passed. That night though, he puts a blanket over the mirror in his room. And when he curls up in bed, there’s this shuddering sigh that leaves him. That kind where you're just on the edge of crying but don't.
If this is the universe's idea of a joke, Time doesn't find it funny.
"I, uh. I found him like this. I swear. I don't even know who he is."
Twilight, one of his young nephews, hovers nearby as Time carries an unconscious young man into the house. Apparently the young man had been asleep on the porch when Twilight arrived five minutes ago.
Time leads his nephew into the living room. He drops the sleeping man into the couch with a slight bounce. But even that doesn’t fully wake him. He just rolls over to press his face into the cushions with a groan. He seems determined to keep sleeping, much to Time’s chagrin.
"Is he alive? Should we call an ambulance?" Twilight asked. He drops his backpack pat his pockets, searching for something. "I don't have a phone right now. I'll use the landline!"
"Landline? I don’t have… one." Time starts. But he trails off with a sigh when Twilight takes off without hearing him.
Well, at least that will keep his nephew distracted while Time deals with this one.
Time nudges the nameless young man. He's already checked him over for injuries or drugs and found nothing. And while his heartrate was a bit high for someone sleeping, there were no obvious signs there was something wrong. Other than looking a little sickly and thin, the guy seems okay. He even rouses a bit when he's moved. The way he grunts and smacks Time's hands away reminds the older man of a particularly grumpy child who doesn't want to wake up for school.
Time could call an ambulance. But the young man doesn't seem hurt or sick, just asleep. And last time he brought an unconscious boy into the ER, he'd been subject to quite a few uncomfortable looks and questions. If Time does it again, after Legend and Four, he imagines nothing short of a declaration from the queen herself will keep the hospital staff from calling the cops.
And police are the last thing he needs to deal with right now. Besides his day job being a secret, he now had a house full of vulnerable kids. Hyrule and Wind being here, he could explain. Legend and Four would be a lot more complicated to justify. But there's absolutely no explanation for Champion.
No, best to avoid that but just letting sleeping dogs lie. Literally.
Some footsteps pull his attention from the sleeping guy. Wind comes down the stairs, yawning as if he'd just rolled out of bed even though it's 2 in the afternoon. He glances at Time and sleepily mutters a good morning. Then he freezes, does a comedic doubletake at the new body on the couch.
"What the hell, Old man?" He gasps. "Another one?!"
Before Time can say No, this guy is Not Staying (because he can't have yet another boy living here. It's getting to be way too much), Twilight reappears around the corner sheepishly.
"You, ah, don't have a landline, do you?" He rubs the back of his neck, red in the face. "You could've mentioned that."
"I tried." Time says easily. "Maybe you should have slowed down a bit. And I don't believe this young man needs the hospital. Just some sleep."
Twilight blinks at him. "You're just gonna let him sleep on your couch?"
Time hums. "Seems so. Anyway - Wind, you remember Twilight, right?"
Wind and Twilight look at each other with surprise. Clearly, neither of them knew the other was here.
"Yeah," Twilight said slowly. "Hey, Wind. Uh, what are you doing here?"
"Nothin'." Wind mutters. He puts his hands in his pockets, the picture of awkward casualness. "Just spending some time with Uncle Time."
"What's the occasion?" Twilight asks.
"He moved in a little while ago," Time answered for Wind. "There's a good school out here and it's more convenient for him to live nearby. Commuting from Windfall was a tad unrealistic."
It's not a complete lie. Wind really does attend a nearby school, but only because if he hadn't swapped he'd have to live at home, where he couldn't possibly hide his arrest. And Wind couldn't do that to his grandma or little sister.
Time carefully sidestepped that fact, though. He had promised Wind that he wouldn't tell the family. Not that Twilight seems like a gossip. But Time has always found that simply minimizing the amount of people who know is best.
Wind is quick to head off any additional questions. "Yeah, that. So, what are you doing here?"
Twilight freezes. Then he stammers out, "Uh, nothing? I mean, not much. Nothing like - I'm just. Here to talk. To Uncle Time. So, yeah."
Wind looks unimpressed. He squints suspiciously at his cousin. "You know, they have these things called phones. You didn't have to come out here just to chat. Kinda a long drive for that, isn’t it?"
"Twilight is always welcome here. All my nephews are." Time shoots Wind a look. The boy rolls his eyes but he puts his hands up in a non-combative gesture.
"Fine. Enjoy your stay or whatever." Wind says. He heads into the kitchen, leaving his two relatives and the sleeping guy.
Without him as a buffer, things feel awkward again. The obvious and unanswered question looms over them. Twilight is shifting uncomfortably, staring at the sleeping guy just so that he doesn't have to look at Time.
"So," Time starts after a beat of silence. "What brings you all the way out here?"
"Me? Uh..." Twilight coughs awkwardly into his fist. "Um, I was just wondering- thinking. That, if it's okay with you- I could maybe.... stayhereforabit?"
Time's brow raises in surprise. That's not what he was expecting. And, truthfully, not something he's keen on doing. "Is there a reason you want to stay with me?"
"Does there have to be?" Twilight asks weakly. He almost sounds like he's pleading.
"Yes, actually." Time says apologetically, but firmly. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't mind having you. But I've recently taken in some... tennants. Some of which have certain needs. And while I love having family over, I'm not really in a position to house you just because you're looking to get out of the country."
"Oh..." Twilight says quietly. There's a look of acceptance disappointment on his face that Time doesn't like. "I get it. Sorry, I didn't realize you had something going on. I'll leave."
Time holds up a hand. "Now hold on. I said I couldn't take you in for no reason. But I'm getting the sense there's something you're not saying."
Twilight's eyes go wide. He freezes like a deer in the headlights. "Uh..."
Time approaches him and puts a sturdy hand on his shoulder. His nephew has really grown in the past few years. He's not quite an adult yet, but he's grown out of his stringbean years.
"You know you can tell me anything." Time says earnestly.
Twilight chews his lip. He looks around the empty room. Then he glances up at his uncle, his eyes slightly misty. Then his gaze drops, flinching at Times even stare.
"I... My parents-" He starts, then stops.
Time waits for him to take a centering breath, shoulders visibly rising and falling before he continues.
"I got kicked out." Twilight's voice is almost a whisper with how quiet it is. It's taking all his willpower to force the words out. "I'm... they caught me... um. Holding hands. With.. you know."
He chances a glance up at his uncle with hope that he wouldn't have to say it aloud.
"With?" Time prompts.
Twilight audibly gulps. Then, in the tiniest voice he's ever used, he says. "With a boy."
The last bit is said so quietly Time has to read his lips more than hear his voice to understand. But he does understand.
Time's jaw tightens in a restrained fury. He knew his sister married a small minded man. He'd hoped that their bigotry wouldn't spread to their kids, but it seems he'd been worried about the wrong thing.
Damn, first his brother lets Wind get himself into trouble, and now this? His siblings were useless.
Under his hand, Twilight shifts uncomfortably. Time rearranges his face into something less outwardly furious.
"You can stay in the second bedroom." Time says decisively. "There's more than enough room."
Twilight lifts his gaze from the floor. There's a renewed hope in them. But it's still tempered, as if he's holding off on really believing that Time was okay with him staying.
"You don't mind?" He asks meekly. "With me staying here? And with... you know?"
Time gives him a gentle look. "Of course not. I wouldn't force you out in the streets for anything. And certainly not for this."
Time releases his shoulder with one final comforting squeeze. "And I don't care what your parent's say - there's nothing wrong with who you are. They're the ones who should be ashamed, treating you like this."
Twilight looks like he might cry. He turns his head, subtly sniffling.
"Thank you." He says after composing himself. "Sorry for coming out of the blue like this. I would have called but I left my phone behind. But I can start paying rent as soon as I get a job."
"I appreciate that, but it's not necessary. Family is always welcome, free of charge."
"Thank you for that. But I want to contribute. It doesn't feel right to freeload." Twilight says with conviction.
Sweet country boy, Time thinks with an internal sigh. Just what this household needs. This is going to be a disaster.
Time takes Twilight's bag and shows him to his room, making a mental list of things he needs to do now that Twilight is staying.
He needs to talk to Wind and discuss how much he was allowed to tell Twilight. And he'll have to introduce everyone - damn, is Legend even here? He'll also have to decide what to tell Twilight about the other boys in the house, not everyone needs to know everything. And he needs to call Uli and Rusl, of course.
Oh, and figure out what to do with the guy on his couch
------
I think Wind and Twilight would have a less antagonistic relationship. They're both younger and Wind hasn't had enough time to really draw Twilights ire yet. Let's see if that holds lol
I'm planning a shorter Sky chapter where he's actually conscious. Look forward to that. Man, we almost have the full assembly. Just Wars is left.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Time can hear a loud crashing and yelling from beyond his door. And it's not even nine yet. Great.
He sighs. He can't afford to be late this morning. So he readies himself to walk right past whatever chaos the boys are getting up to. He straightens his back, pulls out his phone, puts it to his ear, scripts out an imaginary meeting for realism, and opens his door.
He takes a step out into the hallway. Then Time stops short. Stares.
Four, from his spot dangling from the chandelier three stories in the air, stares back. "Good morning."
-----
AKA Four is the "keep hanging on" kitten from all the motivational posters and Time loses ten years due to stress.
More Rock Bottom Au! This time we get introduced to Champion after Time dragged him off the streets. And Four is guest starring in this one! He hasn't interacted with many of the boys in the house but I think he and Champion would get along. And since both of them are the most confused about their current living situation, I thought it'd be fun to pair them together.
----
Champion’s cage is small.
Only a few feet in any direction, the shed is nearly as small as the smallest Yiga outposts. If he were to stand in the middle and reach his arms out, he could perhaps brush the sides with his fingertips. Most of the contents of the shed had been tools, but they've been moved somewhere else. Champion doesn’t know where. He’d been barely conscious when he was first brought in, and illness and injury had kept his mind foggy for days afterward. He doesn’t know the exact time, only that it was long enough for the Deity to transform an outside shed into a makeshift cage. A poorly made one. There's a loose plank in the back. It's hidden behind the thick fabric the Deity had hung as insulation. But it's easily accessible. With a little force, Champion could probably force his way through it and escape.
But where would he go? There's nothing out there for him. Not anymore. Not since he failed.
Champion leans back into the small pile of cushions he’d been given and laments letting himself get taken alive. He lets himself slump in a way that would have gotten him caned if his old masters had seen it. But there’s no point in pretending, even to himself, that he was still living up to their standards. His expulsion was no mistake. He’d held onto the barest hope that his banishment was an error and that he could buy himself back into his master's good graces. But with his definite defeat at the hands of an enemy, his fate is solidified.
After failing to win his fight with the Deity, Champion should have killed himself. It's what he was trained to do. He'd even been trained on how to do it correctly, practicing the motion in front of his blademaster. A diagonal slice, right through the jugular. Too messy for anyone to stitch up, too deep to stop the bleeding.
Never let yourself get taken alive. That was the most important rule. For many reasons - secrecy, honor, safety.
Champion knows what monsters like the Fierce Deity are capable of. He's heard the stories, seen pictures of the aftermath. His masters may have been strict with him, but that was only because they knew the depths of depravity that the Yiga alone were facing.
What Champion was facing now.
As long as you stay in here, you'll be safe. I can't promise the same if you leave.
The Deity had told him that. He comes twice every day. Once in the morning, once in the evening. He brings food both times, enough to fill Champion's stomach four times over. The Deity patched his injuries and fed him medicine when he was ill. He insulated the shed and brought in a sleeping cot.
I’m trying to help you.
Champion doesn't know what games he's playing.
He’d expected to be interrogated. That was the only reason he could see the Deity letting him live. And while he has been asked questions, they’re not the ones he expected.
How old are you? How long have you been with the Yiga. Do you have any family? Does anything hurt anymore? Do you have any food restrictions? Are you warm enough out here? Do you know how to read Hylian? What kind of books do you like?
There is a small stack of books in the corner of the shack. Champion hasn’t touched them. He can tell just from the covers that it’s all Hylian propaganda. “History” books that were no doubt doctored to paint the Crown in a shining light, while vilifying the true heroes.
It’s an insult to even leave them in his presence. He’s tempted to tear them to pieces, but Champion knows it would do nothing but give his captor a reason to hurt him. And as much as Champion would rather take that pain than see those books, he won’t give the Deity the satisfaction of knowing he’s rattled his captive.
He will hold his silence. To the death, as he was trained to do - as he should have done in the first place..
(He still feels the shame of speaking to the Deity in that alley, of telling him who he was and why he was trying to kill him. The humiliation of begging for death, and yet being forced to live.
He won’t deface the Yiga name like that again.)
His refusal to touch those books means he has long hours to pass with nothing to do. He can do basic exercises like push ups and lunges now that the worst of his illness has passed. But there’s no space for anything advanced. He can meditate, but his mind is busy and unfocused. He can draw in the thin layer of dust that’s gathered on the floor, but Champion has never had much artistic talent.
It doesn’t really matter. Champion is just waiting to die. If he had a blade, he’d do it himself.
The soft sounds of feet on frozen grass makes Champion go stiff. Ears perked, he leans towards the door to better hear. Yes, someone is out there. Just beyond that thin wooden door. Someone other than the Deity, whose footsteps are both heavier and quieter.
Champion's ears stand at attention as he tracks their movements. His hearing is ever so slightly lessened because of the damage he’d taken in his fight with the Deity. But he can hear whoever it is approach the door, then make a turn to walk around the outside perimeter of the shed. As they come around the back to where Champion is sitting, he can hear their breathing. The sounds of their fingers grazing the wood, the rustle of their clothes in the bushes.
And finally, a quiet knocking on the back panel.
Knock Knock, Knock-knock-knock
The knocks are rhythmic, impossible to be an accident. Champion stares at the paneling. Waits in bewildered silence. It’s not a code he knows, and it’s not Morse either. Just a simple jingle that means nothing.
Knock Knock, Knock-knock-knock
For lack of any other reason besides simple curiosity, Champion knocks back.
There is a pause. It almost feels like both of them are stunned he responded.
Then - “H-hello?”
The voice is young, high and slightly squeaky with palpable anxiety. Champion is surprised. He hadn’t had any real expectations, but he’s still taken aback.
“Are you - can you talk?”
“...Yes.” Champion responds cautiously.
The person - kid? - rustles the bushes as they adjust their position.
“Oh, good.” They say, sounding legitimately relieved. “I was. I thought that maybe. Well, I guess you’re probably still. Uh. Anyway-”
They stutter over their own words, voice wavering in pitch and volume. They mutter aloud and to themselves, obviously out of sorts. There is the sound of tapping and pushing against the wall from the outside, like they are searching for something in the wood. Champion shifts the insulated sheet out of the way to see the bare wood.
The back panel, the loose one, creaks when they touch it. Champion tenses as they pause their searching. Then the bottom part of the panel pops loose.
A grey eye appears in the small opening, peering into the shed. It scans the interior, taking the time to eye Champion, taking in his admittedly sorry state. He feels himself flushing despite himself, suddenly embarrassed by his pitiful form. He sits up straight, maintaining direct eye contact with the stranger.
“Oh,” The kid says with a quiet sigh, “You’re - okay. Ish. That's good.”
Champion just blinks at him. He doesn’t know what to say, so he opts for silence.
This doesn’t deter the kid. The eye disappears from the slot, quickly replaced by something being shoved through.
“Here - I brought this.”
A small roll of bandages is forced through the opening. It falls soundlessly into Champion's lap. A small tube of ointment follows it, along with a small baggie of crackers and a pouch of liquid.
Champion stares down at the supplies. He turns over the pouch and examines the packaging, eyebrows raising at the colorful text depicting an explosion of fruit and a figure riding waves on a board.
The strange mix of utility and juvenile items only confuses Champion more. His natural inclination is suspicion, but he can’t see the Deity utilizing a child like this. Not as a first tactic, anyway. The erratic demeanor, the anxious energy - he knows the Crown utilizes child soldiers, but this kid doesn’t seem trained. There is no discipline in his movements, no control to his quick breathing.
He’s not a soldier. Is he a trap?
Champion’s grip around the juice pouch tightens. “What is this?”
“Um, food? Water? Or I guess juice in this case. I didn't know if you had anything to eat or drink in here." The eye reappears. “I know I've - doesn't matter. I just... thought with the lock on the door and the shed and stuff... that you might need some help?”
Help? Champion thinks.
I’m trying to help you.
Again. Another one trying to "help" him. Does he look like he needs help?
Champion was ready for pain. He's trained to resist interrogation, to survive torture and threat of death. He thought he could handle anything they give him.
He has no idea what to do with this.
His lack of reaction doesn't deter his visitor.
"It's okay," The kid is muttering, "You'll be okay. I'll help you. I won't - you won't be alone. So don't feel too scared. This place isn't so bad. Not nearly as bad as other places. Just - don't cause too much trouble, okay? Maybe you'll be let out soon. And even if you aren't, I'll still come see you."
The loose plank is pulled back into place, covering the hole.
“I can’t stay right now,” The kid says, “Sorry. But listen - I'll be back, okay? But until then, no one can know I’ve been here, okay? Don't tell Time."
Champion still doesn’t respond. Don’t tell Time. The Deity. Does that mean this visit wasn’t sanctioned by the Deity? And if not, then why would a stranger come in the first place?
Champion recalls seeing one or two children coming and going from the Deity’s abode. Was this one of them? Champion didn’t see much of his visitor, but it didn’t look like any of the teens he’d spotted before. Admittedly he hadn’t paid much attention to them.
But if it was, why would this have to remain a secret? Were they not the Deity’s underlings? Like Champion was to the Yiga? Was this a trap? Or was this some sort of insubordination? None of this made sense.
Champion listens through the wall as the bushes rustle again as the kid gets ready to leave. As those first footsteps start pulling away, he's struck by the realization he doesn't even know this kids name. He knocks on the wood to get his attention.
“Who are you?” Champion asks quietly.
The rustling pauses. A long silence follows, tinted with uncertainty on both sides. Then-
“I'm...Red.” The visitor decides. "And I'm a friend."
-------
Hmm this story is getting kinda long. I should actually put these on ao3...
Okay so since this is their first meeting both of them are pretty hesitant towards each other. Four is nervous about breaking the rules, and Champion doesn't fully believe that he's not a trap from Time. But they'll warm up eventually.
Four only said his name was Red because he wasn't positive Champion wouldn't tell Time about him sneaking out there. So he gave him a fake(?) name. And Champion isn't positive this isn't some reverse-psychology trap Time is throwing him. He's still pretty deep in the Yiga mindset, so he thinks the worst of Time. It'll take some time before that really starts changing. But the cracks are already appearing.
In this au I feel like these two have the potential to be really close? Not to say the other boys won't be accepting or nice to them. But both of them are kinda socially fucked and quiet and can be off-putting to most people. Mostly because if they ever bring up anything regarding their lives they'll usually be met with either horrified expressions or uncomfortable silence. But together they can be traumatized weirdos ❤️
(Plus, I think using this au to explore less-common friend pairings is fun)
Time really needs to clear this up. But will he? ✨Not Likely✨
'kay so I am now very enamored with this au. I just think its neat. Here's how I envision Time picking up his resident med-student.
-----
“-No, that won’t work. I need a home tutor…yes, I understand you don’t teach at the high school level. But I’m not asking for that - no, I said they’re high school aged, not that they are on that level. Well, I’m not sure. Wouldn’t it be your job to test for that…? I understand you don’t- What the hell did you just call them?”
Time growled into the receiver, startling the cashier and several patrons. He pauses in the self-checkout station, phone pressed to his ear. He ignores the stares and nervous glances he gets for crushing the box of toaster pastries in his hand.
“They aren’t delinquents.” He snarls, phone creaking in his grip as he struggles not to put his hand through the nearest wall, “They’re good kids and they don’t need to hear that kind of shit from some small-minded - No, don’t tell me that-! Well, fuck you, too!”
He punches the hang up button so hard his screen protector cracks. His teeth squeak as he pockets his phone and packs his groceries with a tense jaw. His darkened mood keeps everyone out of his way as he leaves the store, blind to the scene he leaves behind.
The biting cold of the dead of winter cools his head a bit. The snow is already piling on the sidewalks again despite the salt and early morning shoveling. Pushing through it is physically satisfying enough to further ease the red from the edges of his vision.
He makes it two blocks from the store and is mostly calm when a voice behind him calls.
“Hello? Um, sir?”
Time stops and turns to face the young man, quickly taking him in. Young, with sandy curls and alert brown eyes. Time remembers spotting him at the customer service desk in the market just a few minutes ago. He's surprised anyone would approach him after that display. “Yes?”
The kid, who'd been struggling with the snow to keep up with Time's rapid pace, stops with a heavy pant. He says, “I was in the market with you a few minutes ago and I couldn’t help but overhear - you’re looking for a home tutor? For your kids? Well, I’m at a college-level and I’m available to tutor anytime.”
The young man fumbles with his backpack, pulling it off his shoulders and rifling through it for something. Time catches a glimpse of heavy textbooks and a few pairs of socks before the kid pulls out a crisp sheet of paper. He re-zips his bag and offers the paper to Time with frost-nipped fingers. Time takes it with raised brows. It’s a resume.
“I’m currently attending UMT here in the city. I have a 4.0 GPA and MCAT scores of 516. Which, I guess wouldn’t really be relevant for kids...” The kid, Hyrule, according to his resume, mutters. His cheeks, already flushed from the cold, color further at Time’s incredulous stare.
“But I was on honor roll and was the valedictorian in my high school graduating class. Uh, and my SAT scores were in the 1580's!”
“That's…good.” Time assumes, anyway. He watches as Hyrule lists off more academic achievements and qualifications. The kid's lips are chapped and he has some truly impressive eyebags. His hair is a wreck and his hands are bright red. He's shivering, arms crossed tightly in front of his body to hold in what heat he can. He's horribly under dressed for the cold, wearing only a thin windbreaker.
The kid sniffles, rubbing his dripping nose and stepping in place to keep moving and stay warm. “I-I also have references if you need, mostly professors. I have experience with kids of all ages and backgrounds from when I’ve worked with multiple community outreach programs. I’ve also volunteered with the Civilian Cross Corps for f-five years-”
Time glances down at the resume as the kid sells himself. It’s well-made and professional, clearly made with care and attention. Hyrule is only 18, according to the personal information, and he really does attend UMT according to his email address.
But what really catches Time's attention is the missing address. That, and the thin tennis shoes the kid wears. They’re already soaked through because of the snow, and Time can see that the edges of the canvas are coming apart where they meet the rubber sole. The hems of his pants are also wet, stiff from being melted and refrozen. The kid has no scarf and no gloves to protect his exposed skin from the biting cold.
It’s well-below freezing already and the sun is still up. Time’s fingers are already burning just from being exposed to the windchill by holding the resume for a minute. The kid’s ears are bright red. That must either be painful, if not numb. His teeth are chattering around his words.
“-a-and I speak three languages. I have some m-m-musical proficiency with the flute, and, and, uh. I-I’m CRP c-c-certified-”
“I live a few blocks from here.” Time interrupts. “If you have the time, you can come with me now and we can talk more there.”
Hyrule audibly inhales, visibly brightening at the promise of a warm building. “R-really? I mean, right now? Y-you don’t want to ch-ch-check my references?”
For the first time since that enraging phone call, Time's lips curl upwards.
“I can check where we’re there. But I think we’d both be more comfortable somewhere warm. It's a little nippy out, and I think any interview is better with a hot cup of tea.” Time adds to sweeten the pot.
Time doesn’t wait for a response. He gestures to follow and starts walking, casual as can be.
And, as he predicted, the promise of warmth pulls the kid along.
What’s one more, Time figures as he leads another wayward soul to his doorstep. He has enough room.
-----
Removed line I want you to know that I wrote: "Goddess, he's getting too good at luring young boys home with him."
Time, you are going to get yourself arrested with behavior like this. Stop it, get some help (jk collect them like lost puppies and give them love and attention)
I figured Hyrule would be perfect to take on a tutoring job to get his foot through Time's door. Once he's in, obviously Time offers to let him stay the night because 1. it's convenient, 2. it's so late and cold out why bother trying to go to the home Hyrule 100% lies about having, and 3. he'll even serve breakfast in the morning.
Then a snow storm traps Hyrule in for just long enough to get him to admit he has nowhere else to go. From there it's a one way ticket to having his own bedroom and "paying" for room and board by tutoring Four and Legend, who are both underaged enough to need some sort of formal schooling in this AU. They both missed a shitton of school so they're both super behind, which is why Time is looking for someone to teach them privately. Hyrule works perfectly for that. He does it because he wants to earn his keep, not because Time forces him to, though. After the winter break is over and Hyrule is back to his usual workload, Time offers to find another tutor so that he doesn't have to work and study at the same time. Hyrule doesn't take the offer tho, he needs to feel like he's earning his keep somehow.
Thankfully tutoring Four and Legend (and other links, maybe??) is pretty easy. Legend doesn't really get much out of it but he's at least willing to sit with Hyrule, which is better then Time expects.
UMT stands for University of Medicine and Tech OR University of Medicine: Termina.
