#and the same god just keeps reincarnating her without wiping her memories

[chumbyy]

warrior cats found footage

[galahadwilder]

The Time I Got Reincarnated as an Evil Version of Myself

Chapter 3: Disagreements

Link to AO3 in Bio

~

Akumatization isn't exactly a common experience among Parisians. With a population of over 2 million and under 300 Akumatizations—maybe half that if only count individual victims instead of instances (most of that thanks to Mr. Pigeon)—that's slightly more than a percent of a percent. Still, there are enough of them that there are certain common experiences. Any one of them could tell you that Akumatization is really only traumatizing after the fact, when you find out what you've done. It's a mercy, really, not remembering. Being saddled with the memories of causing mayhem, havoc, and murder would be too much for the psyches of most people, and Paris would look very different.

The number of people who have successfully resisted Akumatization is much, much smaller. A percent of a percent of a percent. Three people, in total, have ever done it. And while they'll gladly tell you how they did it, in hopes that you get the same success, there's one thing all three of them keep very close to their chests—a secret only three people on Earth share.

Breaking an Akumatization hurts. And worse—you remember everything.

Chloé sits curled up on a cot in the nurse's office, pressing her knees to her chest, trying her best to fight down the bile that rises in her throat. Hawkmoth may not have been able to see the memories he dredged up, but he had pressed on the worst emotional response she has, forcing her to relive her most painful moments. All her traumas, all the things she'd buried, front and center. She feels... she feels...

Ugh. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

The room is too small. And normally she'd be happy for the darkness after a panic attack—she really has to thank Marinette again for helping her admit she has those—but right now it's too much like the darkness, like the black void of Akumatization. She can almost see her mother's face blank with apathy, without recognition, devoid of love. Something inside her chest is tearing, pulling apart, and God she just wants her sister right now.

Zoé is not the person who comes through the door.

"Chloé!" Lila gasps, bursting through the door of the sleeping room of the nurse's station, all false concern and smiles. "I heard you got Akumatized!"

Chloé's pain immediately twists beneath her ribcage into rage and confusion as the most unexpected person in Paris throws her arms around her shoulders. Lila--Lila was expelled, she's been banned from the building, what is she doing here? Chloé wants to pull away, to shove her off, to do something, but she's a deer in headlights, frozen, utterly unable to stop the horror that she's trapped in.

"Are you okay?" Lila asks.

Chloé's whole body contracts, as if making herself smaller will help her escape this. Her throat constricts, strangling her words into a choking whine.

Lila pulls back, holding Chloé at arms’ length. “I’m really impressed you were able to break the Akumatization,” she says with a smile that makes Chloé’s skin crawl. “You’ve been having such a hard time of it lately, you know, and, well…” Lila starts tearing up, wiping her eye with the heel of her hand. “I can’t believe Marinette did that to you,” she whimpers. "All we ever try to do is be nice to her, but—"

Something inside Chloé snaps.

"Nice?" she snarls.

Lila’s expression immediately changes—for a split second, Chloé can see the snake behind her carefully faked expression, and that snake is scared. Some part of Chloé, the part that still likes to hurt people, the part of her that is her mother, is happy with that, and she feels a brief burst of shame, but this is Lila. She deserves every bit of Chloé's vitriol and her own fear.

The rest of her, though? The rest of her is not happy. Another, primal, feral part of her, the part of her that spent ten years in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng in spite of all her attempts to bury it, the part of her that remembers the day Marinette finally gave her Pollen permanently, the part of her that looks at her friends, her hive, and says protect with your life, rises up like a beast and burns in her muscles, her bones, her rage, and suddenly her palms slam into Lila's stomach, Lila is on the ground, stunned, and Chloé is standing over her like a wasp looming in the air above a doomed tarantula.

"I don't know how you got on campus," she spits. “And I don’t care.” She steps forward, her gaze beating Lila down into the ground. "You say one more word about Marinette and... and..."

Lila stares up at her, eyes wide and glistening. "I—I go here," she says, and for once, her voice sounds almost honest. "I—Chloé, we're friends, aren't we?"

Chloé’s brain goes white. "Friends?" Chloé shrieks. Oh, she’s about to get Akumatized again, isn’t she. But if her Akuma form goes after Lila? Worth it. "After what you did?" She bends down, grabs a fistful of Lila's tacky plastic orange lapels. "Marinette may have forgiven you but I. Have. Not."

Now Lila is the deer in the headlights, except she's not on a road or even on a highway, Chloé Bourgeois is a bullet train barrelling down on a fawn that has wandered onto the tracks and Chloé will not stop. "You are ridiculous, Lila," Chloé snarls, barely managing to stop herself from biting the other girl's face. "Utterly. Ridiculous."

"Hey!" Zoé says, forcing the two of them apart. "Break it up, you two!"

Huh, Chloé thinks, suddenly aware of her sister's hand on her chest. She'd been so pissed at Lila, she hadn't even noticed Zoé come in.

"She just..." Lila stammers, and the shock on her face—oh, Chloé hopes it's real. "She just—”

Than her eyes narrow. For a moment, a grin flashes across her face, before her teary shock returns… but with significantly less reality to it.

”You’re—you’re breaking up with me?” Lila sobs.

Zoé’s head snaps around, and Chloé can feel her sister tense. But she—oh, God, haha, Lila thought…

Lila doesn’t know she’s out.

Chloé starts to laugh.

It’s almost a cackle, more than anything. It bubbles up from her stomach, snatching her breath, doubling her over. She’s laughing so hard she fills the entire space of the tiny nap room, so hard that both Zoé and Lila are looking at her like she’s grown a second head.

”You think—” Chloé gasps, clutching at her stomach, “—I’d cheat on Kagami—” Oh, she can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. It’s too funny. “—with you?”

This is, very definitely, not the response Lila was expecting, given the shock on her face. Probably she was thinking Chloé would loudly deny being gay (when of course anyone with half a brain could have seen she was), thus confirming to Zoé their “secret relationship” and making herself look like the victim.

Whoopsie for her!

Chloé’s laughter slows down as she plops back into her cot, and she sighs, wiping tears out of her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” she gasps through the largest grin she’s had all day. “Utterly, completely, and totally ridiculous.”

The look on Lila’s face is priceless. There are few things more satisfying than outmaneuvering smug assholes, and it’s so rare to catch the liar off-guard like this. Blindsiding Lila is a joy all its own, and Chloé intends to savor the memory of that face for years to come.

“Wait a minute,” Zoé says, breaking the moment. “You know?”

”Of—of course she knows,” Lila begins. “She and I—”

"Shut up," Chloé growls, flexing her perfectly-manicured fingers like claws. "And get. Out."

Lila swallows, frozen for half a second, then she spins and bolts for the door. It slams shut behind her, leaving Chloé alone with her sister.

Chloé collapses back onto her cot, her back slamming against the exposed white brick. Now that the adrenaline is gone, the encounter is starting to leave a really bad taste in her mouth, the way any encounter with Lila does. The bile is rising in her throat again, and she just wants to strip off her own skin and fling it somewhere far away where she doesn't have to live in it. "What is with everyone today?" she mumbles.

"What is with—what's with you?" Zoé says, slamming her hand onto the cot next to Chloé's leg. "First the Pollen thing, then the coffee prank, then…” She points out the door. “Lila is a nice person, who for some reason after all the bridges you've burned decided to be your friend, and you just—"

"She hurt Marinette," Chloé mumbles. "Nobody hurts Marinette."

“And then!” Zoé continues, heedless of Chloé’s interruption. “I’ve been trying to make you feel comfortable enough to admit to yourself that you’re gay for months, and then you just… casually? Out of spite?”

Admit that she's... what?

Wait. Something’s—something’s wrong. That's... not at all something she'd expect Zoé to say.

“I—I came out before we met,” Chloé says, haltingly. She's confused, and more than a little hurt. “You—you know that. You’ve met my girlfriend. We—” When she’d found out about Zoé, she’d been pissed enough for Akumatization—but afterwards, afterwards, it had been such a relief, such a joy, to have just one family member who accepted her as she was. “We went on double dates with you and Luka.” Had Zoé not known, all this time? Had she—had none of it mattered?

Zoé looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Luka?” she says. “Marinette’s ex? I’ve barely even spoken to him, much less… been on dates!”

Chloé’s pulse is stabbing at her ears now. She has no idea what’s going on. Zoé’s confusion—has everyone else been feeling the same thing, today? Is that why they suddenly all hate her? Did some… Akuma or something wipe all their memories of her?

Except she was Akumatized, and Hawkmoth can’t have two out at once unless he’s Scarlet Moth, and that definitely didn’t happen today, and he’d never bother going Scarlet over her because he apparently still thinks of her as the nasty girl nobody cares about so he doesn’t think anyone would care about her the way they do about Marinette. A Sentimonster wouldn’t have this much reach, wouldn’t be able to make EVERYONE forget—

She can see Zoé going through the same mental calculations in her head. Something messed with someone’s memories. Hawkmoth is the most likely—okay, let's be real, only—candidate.

”You—you can’t be Akumatized, you rejected it,” Zoé says. “That means—” She turns pale. “You’re—you’re not my sister.”

Chloé’s heart stops. “W-what?” she manages.

Zoé backs away from her, eyes wide and immobile. “You’re a Sentimonster.”

The way she says the word—as if it's a swear, as if it's a curse—stabs straight through Chloé’s gut. She wants to vomit. Chloe is better at managing her anger when it comes to people she loves. Honestly, she is. But she never expected... from her own sister of all people... Don't get Akumatized, don't get Akumatized, don't get Akumatized—

Shut up and burn her, says the part of her that is her mother, and Chloé ignites.

She leaps to her feet, heedless of how Zoé is forced back, heedless of the terrified expression on her sister's face, barely aware of anything except her own rage. “OF COURSE I'M A FUCKING SENTIMONSTER!” she screams, reaching for her necklace. “You—you helped me steal my Amok from Mom! It was your plan! You—”

Instead of her mother’s wedding ring, Chloé’s fingers close on the necklace to find empty air.

Her entire body goes cold. She looks at the stunned, horrified Zoé, and suddenly she's in freefall. Part of her wonders if this is how Adrien felt when his bodyguard pitched him off the Montparnasse, but the rest is too caught up in the sickening drop of her gut, the fire in her extremities, the vacuum where her lungs are supposed to be.

"My..." she croaks, barely able to speak. "My Amok. It's—" She swallows as best she can around the lump that is digging spikes into her throat. "It's gone."

@emma-d-klutz @generalluxun @naresar @ninepostsstuff @grotesquewombat @erisluna35 @oblivionhold @all-peristeronic @chaos-has-theories @into-september @claws-and-bee-stings @279ital @drawing2cope @theramendragon @jameskillianreaper @wild-mare-of-prosecution @blessedfatui @luckychatons @ninepostsstuff @sailorladybug @ladybeug @ymfingsteadilyon @steelblaidd @alexseanchai @dravidious @lowbatterylamp @nekoisadumbname @lemonadeready @tobytober @sunny-key @amandayetagain @darkwolf13reblogs @faunina @marichatsajjvv @mugchild @greenbloodedskink @miraculoussly @flightfoot @chaos-has-theories @multimousenette @spookyyarn @cosmictacos @toychicraft-dump @dragonking1987 @thesernotthedroidsurlooking4 @coracal @erisluna35 @merryberry01 @claws-and-bee-stings @princess-of-the-corner

[yandere-sins]

The Fox Wedding - Stay dead [True End]

Summary: You escaped.

Characters: Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, Reader

Rating: Explicit  

Warnings for this chapter: Happy Ending

Death was as calm as you would expect it. Your body - or rather, your soul - felt like it was floating on water, but no wave dared to disturb you. There was no up or down, just the floating, and that was all there was for a while. As if you were in a room painted in black, nothing to see, to hear, to feel. All you knew was that it wasn’t uncomfortable.

The place you were in now wasn’t plagued with the horrors of life. Pain and suffering, fear and anger. There was no regret and no desire for revenge, but even without any feelings at all, it wasn’t boring. Perhaps this was what made death so unique, the absolute nothingness. You couldn’t even feel if you moved a limb or not, and thus, you concluded that this was it. Even after all that happened, without being able to feel anything, it became meaningless.

You were ready.

Who knew where your soul would go now, but you were ready to move on.

It almost felt like you were ascending from the water, ready to leave. Limbo. Going like this wasn’t bad, and your judgment of the situation was meaningless and thus easy for you. But perhaps you actually liked it! What was there not to like about it?

“Death is permanent, Human,” a sudden voice rung out. You didn’t know this was possible in this space. Was that God? Was it true after all, did such an entity exist? “So… come back.”

And at once, it was over.

Grabbed by what felt like fabric on your back, you were pulled backwards into the water, completely engulfed by the wet. You felt it glide over your skin, wet your hair, and try to fill your nostrils and mouth, and your body instinctively knew not to accept it inside of you. You opened your mouth to let it out, but it only filled more, and then, suddenly, you were pulled out of the water.

“Shhh, shhh,” a voice tried to calm you as your body shook violently in a cough. A stranger’s hand helped you to wipe away the water on your eyelids, and he held you up, so it was easier to free your lungs of the water. Even though you blinked a few times, you couldn’t get accustomed to the brightness all around you, but one by one, your senses reappeared.

You could feel the pressures on your body and pinch yourself again, birds chirped all around you. The taste on your mouth was unpleasant as if you had eaten something foul, but luckily it disappeared as time passed. Finally, your eyes started to focus again, the blur disappearing together with your sensitivity to light. You looked up at the tree crowns, rays of sunshine bursting through them as a breeze got caught in the leaves.

“W-Where--” you croaked, only causing you to cough more. Was this heaven? It almost seemed like it since you couldn’t hear anguished screams or the crackling of fire. So it wasn’t hell. Looking down at yourself, you seemed too old to be reincarnated, and you soon enough found yourself out of options of where you were.

“The forest,” the unfamiliar voice explained for you. Finally, you looked up towards the person sitting beside you, blinking a few times as you tried to remember where you had seen him before. His dark brown hair was shining in the sun, and from it, two very peculiar ears seemed to stick out. All of a sudden, you were hit by a flashback.

Gasping loudly, you touched your shoulder, tearing at the white kimono you were wearing and which you had never seen before. But no matter how much you searched, you couldn’t find the wounds that were inflicted on your body. It almost seemed pristine, but you knew it wasn’t.

“There are still some marks,” the stranger said, and you couldn’t help but flinch. Instinctively, you pushed yourself away from him, sliding off his hold and onto the ground, noticing you had been sitting in a spring. It wasn’t deep, but you noticed the bubbling nearby where it continuously flowed out of a crack in a stonewall. You felt too weak to actually move further, but now that you looked around, this part of the forest was even more unfamiliar than any other.

“Where am I?” you asked daunted, a big part of you returning to a state of fear and panic. The stranger sighed as he got up and walked over, seizing you by the armpits and pulling you up. Putting your arm around his neck and steading you with one hand around your hip, he moved forward, urging you to move even though you struggled. The first few steps were a hurdle, but with every continuous one, it got better.

“Why… But I…”

“Yes,” he said. “I won’t deny what happened, but I’m one of the few that knew about this magical spring water. It healed your wounds - almost perfectly even. But I don’t think there’s much more I can do for you.”

“Where are we… going?” you questioned as he led you on a small path through the forest. Everything seemed so… normal. As if it was trying to undermine the cruelty that happened the night before. “You wanted to go home, didn’t you?”

Peeking up at this, you gave the stranger another look over, all the memories slowly coming back. “I remember you,” you mumbled. “You were with Kita when he came to look after me! Why… why would you help me?”

Catching him as he looked away as if he was caught in a lie, there was no immediate answer. Instead, the pace quickened, and you did your best to keep up with his lead. “Not everyone liked the idea of marriage,” he finally spoke up. In the distance, you could see the trees clearing up. The end was finally near.

“Kita is a good leader. We all like him. But he’s been too obsessed with the idea of marrying you ever since he was still only an aspirant for the leader. Many tried to oppose him, coming to the clan to spy, like the twins, but it’s not easy to go against someone so calculated and strong as Kita is.”

He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “I’ve been by his side for a long time, and I don’t regret it. But I couldn’t watch this happening again.”

Again? you thought, but the moment you two finally left the last tree behind, you came to a halt, your attention quickly diverted. You recognized the road that spread out before you, a mere ten minutes walk from your home. Slowly, the fox let go of you, waiting for you to steady yourself on your feet, but it was easy now. “What should I do now? I- I can’t go back to the house! They’ll find me again…”

Your voice was still so fragile, cracking under the pressure of emotions that tried to regain their place in your body. It wasn’t as hard to stand, breathe, or all of it at the same time as it was to get used to feeling again. It was overwhelming, but you knew better than to get lost in emotions this time. After all, you’ve been through much worse before.

“No, they won’t.”

Looking up at the fox, you had noticed him back away into the shadows of the trees as he seemed ready to leave again. It was only a few steps, but it felt like he had made the separation between your worlds clear again. “The clan moved on as Kita couldn’t stay anymore after losing you. I have to go back to them now, but they won’t come looking for you. You are dead to them.”

Nodding slowly, you took a step forward towards him again, his body language showing that he was wary as you approached. “What’s your name?” you asked out of the blue. What a stupid sentiment, but you felt like after what he did, coming all the way back to save you, remembering his name was the least you could do. He looked surprised before his expression grew nervous and hesitant, but eventually, he decided to tell you softly. “Suna. Just… Suna.”

Reaching for his hands, you crossed the barrier between worlds one last time, squeezing them. “Then, thank you, Suna.”

Time was of the essence, and you felt it was running out for you two. When you thanked him, managing to smile softly, it was almost like a stone fell off your heart, freeing you off so many things. He gave a slight nod in your direction before pulling away, and you knew it was time to go. “Farewell,” you sighed, relief spreading through you, and you turned to leave. It would be hard to go back now, remembering all that happened. Certainly, you couldn’t stay in that house for much longer, even if Suna said it was safe now. Too much had happened. Too much that you wanted to forget forever.

Way down the road, you turned around, seeing the silhouette of a small fox sitting on the curb, watching you. As you noticed it, the fox sprang up and disappeared into the woods, and you couldn’t help but be thankful, knowing he had watched over you just in case. Somehow, you’d be alright. It would be hard to manage without anyone who’d ever believe what you’ve been through, but Suna had managed to restore some of your faith in the world. Just marriage. You’d postpone that… for a long while. You definitely had enough of marrying, and maybe you’d move to the city now, just in case.

But as you looked up at the blue sky with the morning sun rising ever so slowly, you felt grateful for this chance you were given. The experience aside, you definitely felt like you had grown from it. Gained some insight into the worth of life.

You were given this second chance, and you were not going to waste it, no matter how hard it would be.

This time, you’d do better.

“You’re such a goody two-shoes,” Atsumu taunted as he approached Suna. The latter only looked back over his shoulder calmly, seeing the twins’ faces slowly creeping up to him. “It’s a shame. I really wanted her for myself.”

Giving Atsumu a nudge with his elbow, Osamu reminded his brother, “She was dead until a few minutes ago. There was nothing for you to get there but worms.”

“And now she isn’t, I wonder how!”

The bickering between the two continued while Suna turned forward again. From the hill he was standing on, he could see you disappear inside your house, locking the doors behind you. You were such a good girl, careful but kind until the end. You didn’t need to thank him, but you did, smiling at him before you left. He, too, had always appreciated the kindness of humans, even if he always had warned Kita to not interact with humans back when the two of them were still small cubs. But no matter how weak, humans could still be kind, a fascinating fact in his eyes.

There was so much you didn’t know, and perhaps, it was better that his world would no longer be part of yours. The intrigues, foul words, magic - that wasn’t for a good human like you. An eternity bound to a being like a Kitsune wasn’t what would make you happy, even if…

“Suna~ What are ya thinking about so hard? Aren’t ya coming with us? Don’t tell me you changed yer mind?” Slinging one arm around Suna’s shoulders, Suna’s train of thought was interrupted, and he sighed deeply. “Idiot,” Osamu grumbled, kicking his brother in the shin. “Have some tact and let the guy make sure she gets home safely. They’re family.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes but let go of Suna, the two walking a few steps ahead as they gave him the time to say goodbye. But they were right; there was no use lingering. Maybe Suna should have told you why you were so interesting for the kitsune. You were a rare sight as a human ancestor, after all. Knowing that you and he shared the same family tree - even if there were hundreds of years and what felt like a couple dozens of generations between you two - he couldn’t have let you die like one of the other darling wives Kita had found over the centuries. Suna had seen it too many times how he ended up hurting them as they hurt him by escaping or angering him, though arguably, the emotional wounds Kita suffered weren’t as bad as the deadly ones he inflicted. Then again, thanks to that, it gave Suna a new reason to live. No more clans or loyalty. He had something much more important now.

Family.

“Do ya think she’ll go to the city? Think I could become a city boy?” Atsumu mused, and Osamu let out a loud snort while Suna turned around to follow the two. “Only thing you’re good for would be a fur coat,” Osamu snarked, and it even brought a chuckle to Suna’s lips as Atsumu gasped loudly. They turned their attention to Suna, slowing down their steps to match him and lowering their voices as they spoke between themselves.

“Are you sure Kita won’t notice? You stole her right from under his nose, after all. He didn’t even bury her yet - luckily,” Atsumu asked, and Suna shrugged. “You don’t know it because you’re young, but the older and stronger a kitsune gets, the more they begin to forget. I’m sure he is very busy looking for a new replacement right now. He never got over this first wife of his. She truly was perfect. Kind, loyal, and loved him.”

Silent glances were exchanged between the twins as Suna revealed some of the past that he witnessed. “Her only fault was her mortality, and I guess that’s why he keeps searching.”

“Ya think he’ll ever find someone?” Osamu asked after a moment of silence. Suna shrugged again. Even he didn’t have the answers to everything.

“Who knows,” he sighed, and those were his final words on the matter. Rubbing his hands gently, he remembered the warmth of your touch, relieved that your life had been spared. All of your lives would go on, even for the younger kitsune. Their life was too long to ponder about the past. All that mattered was the future.

And Suna was glad that the past didn’t take away your future either.

Want a different ending?

➤   Go back to the prologue to change your fate

[prismartist]

(warning: i wrote this past midnight, so if i seem deranged at parts, that’s why)

okay, so after eret’s recent lore stream, i think it may be safe to say that there’s possibly something weird going on with members and not having any memory of their past. we’ve seen it in three people so far, and most of the other inhabitants never mention their backgrounds aside from their time in the server. what’s weirder is that there are exceptions to this case, with people like phil (tentatively) or schlatt using their past SMPs as background, even though other people who were in those same servers, like wilbur or eret, make no mention of them at all.

from a meta standpoint, there’s a simple explanation: those who had significant roles in those smps are more likely to reference them, especially if the fandom keeps reminding them of it. everyone is at least a little familiar with the Antarctic Empire, or Schlatt & Co. but not as many people know of the time when eret dug out the entirety of hawaii in smpearth, so he doesnt bring it up as much, or at least, not in character. it’s also probably because people pick and choose which aspects of their former servers to induct into their character’s past, which is confusing, but yknow.

there’s also the fact that backstories not directly linked to the smp became more popular with the arrival of ranboo, who constantly hinted at his ~mysterious past~ (and the possibility that it’s the cause of his memory loss), and some people taking that, but simply without the amnesia. foolish, for one, seems to have a pretty good grasp on his past, and didn’t see a reason to have his character forget it. 

from a worldbuilding standpoint, though? when considering the fact that everyone’s individual character lore, no matter how separate they are from the current plots, will probably be all connected at one point or another like dream promised? i feel like we have to look at some possibilities as to what this could all mean.

(keep in mind the following probabilities could overlap with each other.)

tis farfetched theory time :]

so, what are the possible causes for the unnatural amounts of amnesia in the dream smp?

1. the dream smp is something akin to a night vale-esque region, one protected by a god albeit through extreme means, wherein there’s (almost) no way in, unless accepted by a mysterious force, and (almost) no way out.

isn’t it weird how members can travel as far as possible and yet encounter no civilization aside from some villagers? yet tales has confirmed that such regions definitely exist and even operate in more real-world rules, like only having one life instead of the usual three? 

don’t you ever wonder if the dream smp perhaps operates on a different... level, than the rest of the world? mod-less, the end being barred, no farms allowed?

do you think the inhabitants of the smp never mention/don’t remember their past because they’ve been totally cut off from it?

the dream smp could be a creation in a similar vein to night vale; a specific section of the world completely separated and hidden from it, as well as oblivious to the fact that it's hiding from anything. 

the reasoning for this could be to serve as a sort of protection. if you look at it a certain way the server does seem sort of baby-proof compared to other servers. three lives instead of one, no access to the end, no automated farms. why does it need to be protected? maybe it's a safe space for dreamxd to keep people theyre fond of. maybe it's a social experiment. maybe a tragedy has befallen it before that forced it to be so. nonetheless, that part remains a bit more vague. 

of course, there are exceptions to the "no one can get out" bit; karl is basically given permission to travel a bit more beyond the boundaries, glatt is a ghost and ghosts have been shown to have a bit more free will than live people, and connor potentially has necromancer/fellow time traveler/main character privileges. basically he's just connor. 

now i know this completely ignores the characters who i just mentioned have pasts, but there are ways to go about this: a) theyre simply Built Different (aka these people are mentally stable or powerful enough to remember their past), and/or b) past smps could have inhabited the land before it dissolved and dream took over (risky, but not impossible). 

My brain did come up with c) people can retain memories from alternate dimensions, not if theyre from the same world as the smp itself, but it does seem the least likely if you want the narrative to make sense, as this wouldn't explain how foolish, who is implied to have been on the server long before the dsmp was established (as judging from jack the potato farmer’s journal) still remembers his past, and why wilbur doesn’t remember smplive. but he does seem to be the only one with this problem, as everyone else that i know of who was on smplive seem to have some familiarity with each other. which leads me to the next possibility. 

2. the amnesia picks and chooses. 

this post by @noobsomeexagerjunk brings up this point; if there is someone behind the amnesia, they simply pick and choose whose past to wipe. beatrix’s post suggests it’s mostly people who do potentially stand as some sort of threat against dream, as they all oppose him and can overpower him provided they have resources and are in the right state of mind, which they seemingly are not as of late. that suggests dream does have some form of power over the server, or maybe works with dreamxd to make it happen. 

but if not that, then what? perhaps these people are more likely to figure out how to break the server rules? maybe they have abilities that could easily overpower dreamxd themself? if that is the case, maybe we can consider karl as well; there are theories that dreamxd is possibly connected to the inbetween and could be behind karl’s amnesia as well as the others, perhaps as a way to limit his abilities. but again, foolish would be an exception, as he is incredibly powerful. but then again again, foolish is incredibly powerful, so he could have avoided this fate. 

3. it’s all purely coincidental.

out of the five amnesiacs on the server, two of them have causes that we are aware of; ghostbur because he’s repressed, and karl because of time travel/whichever one of the two alternate dimensions he’s visited that are fucking with him. ranboo’s reason is hinted to be because of something that happened to him. so i don’t think it’s unlikely that puffy and eret’s memory losses don’t necessarily have anything to do with the nature of the server. maybe puffy hit her head on a rock and washed ashore far from her ship, and eret’s a reincarnation, similar to link from legend of zelda, except he can’t remember anything about his past life/lives (there’s also several theories explaining this). this is… the most probable one, as it would be a clean explanation with no inconsistencies. so. 

tl;dr either the dream smp wipes the memory of most people in the server when they enter, it picks and chooses based on who is a potential threat, or the amount of amnesiacs is purely coincidental. 

[ivegotbreadinmypants]

okay okay, after being heavily inspired by watching Man From UNCLE again, let's just say that this geraskier au is sort of like a reincarnation 60s spy au.

Hear me out

Geralt is one of Kaer Morhen's top agents (its a secret agency tasked to wipe out the worst threats to governments and humankind. The secret agency isn't specifically tied to one country, their agents are hired by governments over the world to wipe out the worst type of threats) and one day he gets the assignment from CIA of all things.

He's hired to finish an underground job because one of their best agents is nearly compromised in an eight month secret mission (Geralt holds back the urge to roll his eyes because really? That's their best agent?)

So then he's told he doesn't have to know who the agent is, all he gets is the information on what needs to be done to complete the mission.

Under any circumstance, Geralt must not fail the mission, even if it means the CIA agent has to take the fall.

So Geralt understands it. Yes, it's a little cold to leave their best in the dust to die but for the sake of thousands of other endangered lives, Geralt gets why he must finish the job.

So then he's in, and then he finds out he's dealing with the worst type of people. Human trafficking, multiple drug rings, a black market for basically anything, and plans of dangerous weapons that should never be seen in the light of day.

Geralt has dealt with each of those things separately, and for a moment he feels out of his depth. But he's Geralt of fucking Rivia, known to have killed a small army on his way out of captivity; The Butcher, they called him.

So soon enough, he finds himself neck deep in fake identities and a web of lies. He slowly makes his way up the ladder, taking down supervisors and getting his hands necessarily dirty.

He's violently efficient enough that one night, he's invited to meet with the higher ups, the ones in charge of the drug rings. An invitation to an elite speakeasy.

So he goes. Sits there around a table, on his second whiskey for the night. He's told there's live entertainment, the best singer they've had at the establishment. And Geralt nods and grins easily like he belongs there, like he isn't planning on spiking their cigarettes in an hour. He waits and waits for the opportunity, and then the lights dim, the curtains draw and there—Geralt can take the moment of distraction to pour the cyanide lined powder into their drinks.

But then a voice rings out, curling over the people like smoke—

And he stops and looks up.

The entertainment of the night stands upon the stage, a mic cradled gently in his hand, lips brushing over it with every smooth word spilling of his mouth, wearing a bowtie and a suit that looks like sin.

Bright cornflower eyes stare into the crowd and Geralt feels a full-body shiver run through him, the words—no, the voice, that voice—resonates deeply within him, pulling a thick string in his body taut and tight, pulling and tugging until Geralt has no choice but to keep looking at him, listening to him.

Because he knows him. He knows him.

He keeps staring, unable to tear his eyes away no matter how hard he wills his body to because there's no way he should recognise the man but he does, he does and there's a haunting hollow pit within him, pushing him into the hole to the point he's free-falling and fuck—

He knows him.

And the empty abyss within also tells Geralt that he lost him.

His eyes roam over the man's face, body, something twinging with recognition at the sight of his tall, lanky body, but it also pinches with the empty air in the man's hands, feels like he should be holding something, nimble fingers playing over the fretboard—

Geralt swallows hard when those blue eyes dance around the room and they stop on his. The man's voice barely catches in the middle of his performance, but his eyes stop, staring, focused back at Geralt with the intensity of a hot camp fire—

Tell me, why even bother setting up a camp fire when you can wave a hand and do it in a second?

The voice of the man in utterly enchanting, enrapturing Geralt in a vice he doesn't even know if he wants to get out of—

It's like ordering a pie and finding out it has no filling.

Geralt loses his breath, the tight rope in him coming loose when the corner of the man's lips quirks up, keeping his gaze steady, still singing with immeasurable passion.

The man beside him guffaws, slapping his shoulder with amusement and the fog in Geralt’s senses recedes, shaken out of... whatever the fuck that was.

They tell him Geralt’s not the first fan their singer has had and they offer him a chance to meet him face to face.

Geralt agrees.

They bring him to the back of the establishment, giving him and their entertainer privacy.

Geralt can feel him through the door, something in the air vibrating with unseen energy.

Then the door opens without Geralt needing to knock and a slender hand pulls him inside.

The second their skin made contact, Geralt chokes, intense power rocking through his body and

You're the witcher, Geralt of Rivia

It's one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world, how hard could it be

Well, who knows, maybe someone out there will want you

She saved your life, Jaskier, I can't let her die

We could head to the coast, get away for a while

If life could give me one blessing—

"Jaskier," he breathes, cracks lining the edges of his heart with unrelenting grief

Brilliant blue eyes stare up at him, widened by shock and relief and everything Geralt can't even imagine Jaskier has felt after the dragon hunt, after everything.

Then Jaskier slaps a hand over his mouth, leaning in and pressing a finger to his own lips, signalling him to be quiet. Geralt is silent, but he can hardly hold back from gripping the sides of Jaskier's suit and breathing in the scent of sandalwood, flowers and—

"In this room and out of it, my name is Edwin," he whispers, his blue eyes desperately searching Geralt's, fingers almost digging into his chin.

Geralt furrows his brows, squinting at his bard—at the performer and quietly hums, questioning.

What does he mean his name is—

Geralt's eyes go wide, his heart plummeting.

Jaskier smiles but the sight is saddened, and Geralt finally sees the exhaustion and pressure and worry weighing heavily on Jaskier

Fuck.

Jaskier is the CIA agent.

The man leans in, hand still pressed over Geralt's mouth, and he utters, lips brushing against his ear, "I'm guessing you're the agent they sent in to finish the mission."

Geralt's eyes search the room, looking for anything that would tip off a bug. Because Geralt hates the idea he might be adding onto the risk of Jaskier's cover getting blown.

"You're compromised, aren't you?" Geralt quietly says once Jaskier's hand moves away. The man nods, curtly, eyes hardening. He chuckles darkly. "Had to clear up my trail, get rid of any evidence."

A small smirk makes its way to Jaskier's mouth, and fuck, it reminds Geralt of the many times Jaskier would shamelessly flirt with everyone and everything and Gods, he didn't know he missed it until now.

"Just like you taught me, Geralt." And Geralt huffs a small laugh, the memory of painstakingly explain to Jaskier the importance of clearing their tracks when hunted.

Gods, Jaskier is holding him, pressing up against him, smelling the same way he did in their other life—

And Geralt can't find it within himself to let go, melting protectively against Jaskier.

He can hardly breathe because he's here, he's here

And he'd be damned if he's letting any of the bastards get their hands on his bard.

Geralt changes tactics, changes the mission.

He doesn't care if the mission will go sideways, he doesn't care if he'll have to burn the entire organisation down to the ground himself because—

Under any circumstances, will he ever let Jaskier get hurt again, whether it be by his words or anyone's hand.

Cue every espionage romance clichés there is.

Having to kiss in public to get rid of suspicion?

Hiding in small closets, chest to chest, just as a guard walks past the door?

A moment where Jaskier has to seduce his way out of trouble and Geralt being unbearably jealous?

Geralt getting close to death and Jaskier getting super emotional just before Geralt wakes up?

Competence kink? Geralt quickly finds out that Jaskier is rather handy with knives. Jaskier says he always wondered why it came so easily to him when he first trained in the CIA, and Jaskier reveals that in their other life, his bard already knew how to wield daggers like Geralt did with his silver sword.

All yes.

It ends with Geralt and Jaskier saving the world by a hair and ending up as partners when Jaskier resigns from the CIA and applies for K.M.

[moonboohoo]

BOOK: DREAM; IN THE STARS

CHARACTER: IWAIZUMI HAJIME X READER

SUMMARY: IN WHICH A GIRL NEEDS TO REPAY HER SINS BY BEFRIENDING WITH A VOLLEYBALL PLAYER.

WORD COUNT : 5158

*LOWERCASE INTENDED.

2.1 ㅡ SOUL. 

warnings: major angst. 

days had stretched into months, and months had stretched into years. the seasons come and go like old friends. they bring memories of seasons past and the promise seasons to come.  even though these seasons were like the circle of life, which means there were some possible new changes and such, but people nowadays still lack a sense of humanity - therefore, you came up with a conclusion that becoming a grim reaper was more likely to be happier than reincarnate into another identity, which you wouldn't face the same thing all over again. maybe the trauma still haunts you, it was hard to forget and move on from what had happened in the past, and the wounds take time to heal.

after going through numerous trials and interrogations, the ruler of the afterlife - kaito-sama had previewed your life throughout these years. you've been told that committed suicide was a crime, and in order to repay your sins - they have given you a task to follow akaashi to guide the deceased to the afterlife.

how many years do you need to follow him? and, do they give you a chance to reincarnate? you have no idea, and you didn't really care about that anyway.

the pale cerise and cranberry pink blossoms of the cherry trees on the streets had fluttered downwards with the end of spring. the temperature was starting to get warmer, you could see people cursing the weather, as they took out their handkerchiefs to wipe their foreheads. nobody knew your existence, after all. you were a spirit, a grim reaper, and you're pretty much happy about it. you wanted to be alone and not interact with humans, you're scared that they will hurt your feelings again. letting out a long sigh, you raised your head for a gulp of air. the sound of the ice cream truck was heard, you saw a bunch of kids running around hysterically calling for their parents to give them money for ice cream. when they got the money from their parents, they went running toward the ice cream truck screaming, "ice cream!" , "ice cream!"

you gulped nervously and ran towards the ice cream truck, you haven't been eating ice cream for god knows how long, and you just wanted to sniff on the creamy, sweet texture to satisfy your desires. there were two kids standing beside you, licking and eating the ice cream happily. one of their cones had sprinkles and candies while the other one had nuts, coconuts and a host of other delicious toppings on them.

"(y/n)..."

no response.

"(y/n), come on." akaashi dragged you away from the scene, you pouted slightly as you followed him. he pinched the bridge of his nose before facing you, and you knew that akaashi was irritated, both of you were on a mission and the fact that you get distracted by an ice cream truck was ridiculous to him. akaashi forced himself to calm down, his angry expression returned to normal. you felt relieved when he patted your head, he usually did that when you're afraid of him, he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable as he tried not to trigger your emotions, akaashi knew everything about your past events, and scolding you was definitely not an option.

"i told you to walk beside me, (y/n). it was hard for me to keep an eye on you when you're walking behind. moreover, i'm sure that you know we grim reapers, also counted as spirits - we won't be able to eat those, you know. "

you let out a dramatic sigh and walked past him, "akaashi...ice cream is literally the best! i mean, have you ever eaten ice cream?"

"(y/n), you never ate anything since the day you died, and it's been 15 years. and to answer your second question, i never eat that before..." his voice trailed off, as he wore a nervous expression on his face. you turned to him, your eyes widened in surprise. you thought akaashi was joking with you, you're flabbergasted and pretty much speechless. maybe akaashi hates sweet things? but, ice cream was basically a dessert that everyone likes - and he really did mention his favourite was sweet sticky rice, you've tried it before when you're little, and you immediately regretted after eating it because it was too sweet for you. akaashi fiddled his fingers when you squinted your eyes, staring at him curiously.

what was he doing in his entire life-

"akaashi-" just when you wanted to speak, he quickly covered your mouth and waved his right hand around. and for the next second, both of you were standing in the living room. you couldn't even process what was happening just now, as akaashi pulled your ear and dragged you upstairs, you made a whining voice as you tried to protest by pushing him away, but akaashi was strong, by the time when you guys were outside the room; your right earlobe had a light bruise and it was all thanks to your partner.

you crossed your arms over your chest and let out a huff, "kaito-sama told you not to simply use your powers here in case there are any emergencies..." you sighed, pushing the door open without looking at him. there were times that akaashi would suddenly get really flustered when you asked him a few questions that he didn't know how to answer, and as a result; he would end up using his powers and bring you to other places. but today? it was unacceptable. akaashi never did this to you, and you're now fuming with anger because he was acting normal, even though he could sense that you're grumpy because of him.

"(y/n), can you tell me the details about this man?"

"hisnameiscalledfujowararukawaandhe'salready78yearsoldhedoesn'tlivewithhisfamily becausehisdaughterhateshimandhe'sgoingtodieafter10minutesduetoheartattack." you simply told him in one go, without rephrasing your sentences. you pouted your lips and stared at him angrily, you're still waiting for him to pat your head, or giving you his awkward smile as an apology, but that doesn't seem to be the case. you watched the man sink slowly into the bed, his breathing becoming slower and slower and his hands were clutching on his shirt tightly, struggling to breathe. and then, you glanced over to akaashi. he was fiddling his fingers again, he slowly went towards him and put his hand on his forehead, his lips slightly quivered when he saw the man tears streaming from his deep blue eyes, loud, heaving sobs tearing down his throat. akaashi turned away and took a deep breath, he dug his fingers into his soft hands, trying to regain his composure. you couldn't help but worried about him, you nudged his arm with your elbow, he sighed while staring on the ground, not bothered to look at you.

"he's an old friend of mine," he spoke softly.

you didn't quite catch up with his words, and you're confused, too.

"i don't understand, akaashi. this old man is your friend?"

"he was already in his second life." akaashi sat on the chair, he brushed his hair back from his forehead, fingers shaking. "we're friends during the tokugawa period (aka edo period, 1603-1867. the final period of the traditional japan). both of our parents were farmers, and he will always ask me to play with him every day. we went to our secret hiding place behind our houses to build sandcastles and threw pebbles on the tree, we enjoyed talking to each other - and we talked about a lot of things. when i was 13, he was forced to move out with his parents. we made a promise to each other, and i thought our friendship will last forever."

you nodded, not knowing how to respond. "so...you have the ability to see their past memories?"

"y-yes...by touching their foreheads..." you blinked a little and waited for him to continue his story.

"we passed through, every spring. and you know what children are, always swearing internal friendship, then quite forgetting one another when the season has passed. he did not even know me when he came back to my hometown. he is so changed. and both of us were already 19 years old at that time."

you wanted to ask akaashi a lot of things, but your mouth was screwed shut. you didn't want him to think about his tragic past memories, but you're curious about his real identity. you shifted yourself closer and stood beside him, and there was this very one question that you've been dying to ask him a few years ago, but you didn't get the chance to ask him properly. you're contemplating whether you should ask this question or not, and you wouldn't give yourself too much expectation of him answering you since it was too personal.

"akaashi, why do you end up becoming a grim reaper? only people who committed sins are forced to...you know...i mean! we don't have a choice, right? kaito - sama said people who committed sins need to become a grim reaper!" you waved your hands nervously, and you regretted asking akaashi. you're ashamed at your insensitivity towards him. akaashi was looking at the old man, watching him took his last breath as he rolled his eyes back, he stood up and walked towards him as he avoided eye contact with you.

"...i killed my sister, and i ended up becoming a grim reaper for 300 years."

───

one of the guards leads the old man to the judgment hall, as you and akaashi went to a small garden beside the south gate, sitting on the bench while looking over the pond. fish were jumping above the large waves, which splashed on the shore. lily pads were swaying in and out of the waves, smaller frogs were jumping from pad to pad, playing as laughter filled the entire pond. you were always amazed by the beautiful flowers growing on the side of the pond, and you've never seen such unique colours before. their petals were surrounded by little blue diamonds, and the people in the afterlife told you that butterflies were reincarnated into those little gems, which you didn't understand why.

"butterflies are meant to shine, (y/n)." akaashi sat beside you, closing his eyes while responding to your question.

"stop reading my mind, akaashi," you stated coldly, clearly still annoyed that he didn't apologize to you. he was extremely quiet, it seems like there were other things occupied in his mind. was it your fault today? asking him in such a casual manner, you felt guilty for not being considerate of his feelings. you sighed again, you cleared your throat as you looked at him, you thought it was better for you to confront him face to face. you took a deep breath, opened your mouth but the words didn't want to come out. your heart was beating fast and it was odd - you weren't afraid of him, but this feeling made you so anxious.

"...today is my last mission with you, (y/n)."

it hit you hard. if you're to describe your feelings right now - sadness, anger and frustration mixed into one. you clenched your fist, your tears fall uncontrollably. you hated akaashi for not telling you, you hated him for being so selfish - he should've told you earlier, and you could spend time together with him as much as you can, it was hard to accept the fact that he was going to leave you, akaashi was there since the beginning of your death. 15 years of him taking care of you, 15 years of him staying by your side when you're depressed, 15 years of him doing a lot of things to you, to make you feel safe and comfortable around him.

"i'm sorry...i...i- please listen to me, (y/n)." he grabbed your hands and asked you to look at him. "after all these years, kaito-sama has finally given me a chance to reincarnate... i've been wanting to tell you since last week, but when i looked into your eyes, i felt guilty. it- it was hard for me too, it's been bothering me for months. (y/n)...i-"

he cried.

akaashi was crying.

when he cried, there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound. he hugged you tightly, the sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he would break down entirely. as much as akaashi tried to hold it in, his tears falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. you hugged him back as your hands clutching on his black cloak, as you too, couldn't stop holding back your tears. you wanted akaashi to be happy, you wanted him to live a normal life again, it was true that you're still frustrated about him not telling you in the first place but, nothing matters now. akaashi wiped off his tears and pushed you away gently, his hand rubbed the bruise on your right earlobe and smiled; "sorry, (y/n)..."

"i-it's okay..." you hiccuped through your sobs.

"i've never pulled anyone before, except for my sister when she's naughty." akaashi bit his lips, tears threatening to fall. you nodded, his eyes not leaving you. "(y/n), i'm so sorry..."

"it's okay, akaashi...it's not a big deal...even though i was angry with you just now, i-"

"it-it's not fine..." he gripped your shoulders, his whole body was trembling when facing you. your face softened as you tried to draw circles across his back with your fingertips. "(y/n)... i said...i've never pulled anyone before, except for my sister..." akaashi repeated, closing his eyes as his salty drops fall from his chin, drenching your cloak. "akaashi, i know..."

"you don't understand! (y/n)! you are actually my sister!" he shouted as you flinched slightly. at this moment, you couldn't process anything that was happening around you. you didn't know what to think or how to think about akaashi. he was lying, right? those tears were rolling down your cheeks, the world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. he looked past your memories, he knew everything about you when he first met you in your room, touching your forehead and soon connecting the dots between you and him; and now this guy - who was crying and sobbing, was your brother.

why? you didn't want to believe him, but akaashi was the only one who knew your past, and you're so confused, you have no memories at all and you couldn't just simply hate him.

but he killed you.

he told you that he killed his sister, which was you... he kept apologizing to you, his nose grew very red at the tip. "i'm-i'm sorry... you are my sister...i don't have a choice really... those armies came to our town, trying to enslave all the girls... you're so scared, you hid under the table and kept screaming my name... i didn't want you to suffer, (y/n)! they're nasty and dangerous, i can't fight back. so...maybe i was thinking, it's better for you to die instead of being captured by them." akaashi's body was wracked with great sobs and he shook like a leaf. you scooted closer and pulled him into a tight hug, your eyes were burning and your chest felt heavy as if it were filled with lead. you smoothed your chaotic hair and wiped the tears from your cheeks which were now blotchy and mottled.

"i don't hate you, akaashi," you reassured him, his crying starting to subside but you could still hear his sniffles, you patted his back as both of you went silent for a moment. you're still in a trance - and it was hard for you to digest every single thing that he had said to you. you couldn't recall your past memories, and it was unfair to akaashi, too. he was trying to protect you from danger, and - even though killing you was not an option, but it was already over. it pains you when you saw akaashi crying to you, completely vulnerable. akaashi was always calm and thoughtful, he wasn't the type to break down so easily...

as much as you wanted to stay like this for a while, but it was time for him to go.

"hey...(y/n). thank you for everything." he slowly stood up, smiling at you. "don't cry, (y/n). i'm trying my best here...please smile for me. take care of yourself, okay? be strong, try to depend on yourself instead of others. if you're feeling lonely, you can always go to other grim reapers, make some new friends and it will make your life less boring. don't be afraid, i'm here for you, always." he pointed his own chest as tears were streaming down his already wet cheeks. he quickly wiped off his tears and you - your eyes now filling tears with glistening in the light, bouncing sadness through the atmosphere.

the pain you carry in your chest was inexplicable. seeing him walk away from you hurts you a lot. even though you wanted to hold him and keep him by your side for a long time, it seems like it wasn't going to happen. you didn't expect him to leave you someday.

"i will never forget the moments that you laughed with me, helped me...i don't regret any of those memories. thank you for everything...once again, i hope you found your happiness," you told him.

he walked towards you and kissed your forehead, "goodbye, mochi chan."

───

2009, March 29.

another 14 years had passed.

it took three years to accept the fact that akaashi had left you, and up until now, you're still thinking about him sometimes. you hoped that he was doing well in his life, as much as you wanted to see him again, it was hard for both of you to meet each other now. he was not going to remember you, and his looks might change...maybe a totally different person, who knows? you sighed as you put the name list on the table, kaito-sama didn't assign any mission to you today. you stood up and stretched your body, letting out a yawn.

"yo, (y/n) chan !!"

you immediately rolled your eyes.

hachiro kazumi, assistant of kaito - sama. you had no idea what he was doing honestly, you only knew that he was good at writing reports and flirting with other grim reapers, especially guys. ever since akaashi had left, kazumi had become your temporary partner. god, this fox boy was annoying, he never stopped asking you silly questions and he was excited every time when he got a chance to go on a mission with you. and also, you didn't understand why he could look into his mirror all day, praising himself over and over again, and also gave himself a nickname called "the charming fox boy". you closed your eyes when he pulled you into a tight embrace, his tail wagging around as he squished his cheeks against yours.

"uh-ow...kazumi, that hurts..." he laughed as he pushed you away gently. "kaito-sama wants to see you right now!" you nodded as you tugged your hair behind, ready to go to the palace. but kazumi was still standing there, his head tilted to the side as his yellow eyes were staring at you, as you've forgotten to do something right before you go to the palace. you scratched the back of your neck and sighed, "right, i knew it." you walked to him and patted his head, rubbing his ears as he purred in satisfaction.

"alright ! let's go, (y/n) chan!"

kaito-sama was already standing there waiting for your arrival. you bowed to him as both of you proceeded to the room with kazumi followed behind. he closed the door as he asked you to sit on the silver chair, kazumi rummaged through the shelves and took out a few documents and placed it on the table. kaito-sama nodded slightly, he read through the yellow papers and gave it to you, as you're eyeing on them curiously. "i have a mission for you, (y/n)." kaito - sama clasped his hands together on the table, your eyes widened in disbelief when you've read through the last paper.

"kai-kaito - sama...eh...uhm...i don't understand..." you put the documents aside, blinking your eyes, utterly confused. you need an explanation from him, why did he assign such a mission for you? kazumi smirked at you, he wanted to say something but was interrupted by his superior. "after several discussions, we're giving a special task for you, instead of guiding the dead to the afterlife, you can spend your time in the real world to complete your mission, isn't that nice?" he smiled as he gave you papers to sign your contract. you hesitated, it was new to you, as much as you didn't want to disobey his orders, you thought it was quite ridiculous for you to take care of a boy for 4 years.

"kaito-sama, why do i need to babysit a boy for 4 years? plus, i'm dead. i won't be able to go to his world and follow him all the time, right? and the documents - it stated that i will be living with the hayato family, they got married but they didn't have any children since then. t-this doesn't even make sense? i'm dead, kaito-sama, i don't understand...why do i need to be friends with him?"

he sighed, scratching his cheeks as he tried to think of a better explanation, to make it convincing to you. "anyway, we are able to change your "parent's" memories. you will become their temporary daughter for 4 years. and also, don't question anything, (y/n). it's for your own good, you got to reincarnate once he's officially 18 years old. you will be going to the same school as him, and when the time you got into the real world, your body will start to shrink - as you know, this boy is only 15 years old, and your physique will be the same age as him, too."

"we can make you alive again, (y/n). only for 4 years."

you rubbed your temples and took a deep breath. kaito-sama didn't exactly answer your question, and you couldn't just disobey his commands. you didn't care about your reincarnation, though. you were just feeling very, very exhausted when you knew you're going to classes all over again. you took a piece of paper and wrote several things about his background, and also the details of the hayato family as well. you put it inside your pocket and signed the contract unwillingly, you tried to stay positive and cheery as possible, you didn't want yourself to be depressed for the next 4 years.

documents ; details of iwaizumi hajime and the hayato family.

kaito - sama smiled at you, "(y/n), as i said, it's for your-"

"yeah, yeah. it's for my own good."

"cheer up, babe! kaito-sama give you a chance to reincarnate! you just need to finish this mission, (y/n)!" kazumi pulled a chair and sat beside you, playing with your hair.

you groaned and looked up to him, "i'm not a guardian angel...you know? i'm a grim reaper."

they lead you into a darker room, which kazumi brought a few spellbooks and gave it to kaito- sama. the spellbooks were from the previous ruler, they guarded them like precious gems. kazumi prepared the circle. the candles glowed and the prepared purification materials were readied. kaito-sama asked you to step into a circle centre, as he took the spellbook and his hands ran over the words of the spell. the light rose up from the ground and circled your body. your body vibrated, your skin turned to silver as the light shot through your body. your head started to get dizzy, you felt yourself drifting further and further and you could hear kazumi yelling at you, but you couldn't hear anything from him.

suddenly, you woke up in an unfamiliar room.

the room was purple with beautiful murals on the wall, hand painted by someone else. there were a few books and papers on the table, and there were dry baby breaths beside you which you didn't know why, but it smells good, though. the vanilla scent lingered around your room, it made you sleepy but you forced yourself to crawl out of your bed. the paper that you've written the details on was on the table, you quickly put it inside your drawer before your so-called parents looked at it. your room was so different compared to your own room many years ago, you're happy when you see a few stuffed toys on the shelves. you hoped that the hayato family was not abusive, as you're nervous and excited at the same time.

you went to your bathroom and looked at the mirror, your face was slightly rounder and chubbier compared to your true form. other than that, nothing changed much. you didn't have much acne on your face, though. you're quite satisfied with your new room and your looks, you smiled as you went out of your room.

"(y/n) chan!! (y/n) chan!!" your heard footsteps approaching you and when you turned around, you saw a woman with black hair grinning at you happily as she grabbed your wrist and led you to the kitchen. your hands started to get sweaty due to your past events - she wasn't going to beat the hell out of you, right? "tada!" she took out the butter cake from the oven and placed it in front of you. "isn't it lovely! we are going to bring this to our new neighbour, what do you think? (y/n)?" her eyes beamed with excitement, sniffing the scent of the butter cake and let out a hummed of satisfaction.

"e-eh... uhm...yes? it-it looks tasty!" you replied, your heart was still beating fast.

"why are you so tense?! my daughter? here," she then kissed your forehead and ruffled your hair, "are you feeling better?"

"...i feel loved." you thought of yourself, you never experienced this kind of thing before, except for akaashi; kissing on your forehead before he left.

"yeah." you smiled, giving a peck on her cheeks. she smiled widely, asking you to follow her to bring this butter cake to your next neighbour, which you're happy to oblige. you felt safe when you're with her, you could tell that your "mother" was an optimistic person. you looked around the living room, you didn't see your dad in your house. "where's dad?" you asked. your mom wore her flip flops and turned around and looked at you, "ah, your dad will be coming home tonight! don't you remember? we are going to celebrate his birthday!"

"ah-ah yes! sorry, i forgot." you smiled sheepishly.

you knocked on the door twice and waited for their response, your mom was holding on the aluminium tray as she whistled softly to you. you could hear footsteps and then the door was swung open, revealing a small, brown-haired woman smiling at us. "i'm sorry, i was washing the dishes!" your mom shook her head, telling her not to worry about it.

" i brought you some homemade cake! hope you will like it!" she told her.

"oh my...i did not expect this! p-please, come in! make yourself at home!" she waved her hands frantically as she quickly took the cake from your mom, leading you guys to the living room. once she put the cake on the table, the woman turned around and asked you, "hi, sweetie! how old are you?"

"ah! i'm 15 years old." you told her, you cringed slightly due to the childishness in your voice.

"oh really? i have a son of your age," she replied enthusiastically as she helped your mom to take out the plates and put it on the dining table. you nodded and sat on the blue sofa nervously, you started to fiddle your fingers as your eyes started to dart around. this is the first day of your mission, and you still need to endure for 4 years. you closed your eyes, trying to calm down your emotions, a part of you wanted to stay with the hayato family forever, but another part of you wanted to abandon this mission and went back to the afterlife, completing easy tasks instead of befriending with a guy in the real world.

"hajime! come down now and serve our guests, please!"

"coming..." you saw him walking down the stairs and yawned loudly, he rubbed his tired eyes as he went to the kitchen, drinking a glass of water before he proceeded to the living room. when he saw you, his face turned red as he quickly poured a glass of orange juice and gave it to you, you laughed at his reactions before you took the glass from him. "i-i'm sorry! i just woke up from my nap, so my vision was quite blurry..." he rubbed the back of his neck.

"o-oh, it's fine!" you tried to hold back your laughter, as you quickly drank your orange juice. he sat beside you, and you could tell he was trying his best to find something to talk to you. "i'm not good at conversations, so i'm sorry if i weirded you out."

"not at all! don't worry about it."

"uhm...what's your name?"

"my name is (y/n) hayato. your name is iwaizumi hajime, right?"

oh shit.

you mentally facepalmed yourself, why did you say something like this? you just blurted out his name, iwaizumi will probably think that you're a stalker, his eyes widened as he questioned, "how do you know my name?"

"i got your name from the afterlife and my boss asks me to take care of you-"

"oh, your mom told me your name!" you winked at him, as you quickly took a sip of your orange juice and faced him again. he nodded slightly, and he asked, "you are the same age as me right?" you replied with a nod as he continued, "which high school are you going to? i'm going to aoba johsai, though. my friend forced me to go with him." he sighed, as he rubbed his left cheek. "just think about him makes me want to - ugh never mind."

both of your mothers shouted from the kitchen, asking both of you to take the cookie jar and placed it on the dining table.

"i'm going to aoba johsai too! wanna walk together to school everyday?"

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

So...that coma AU @megatraven....it got me crying in the club and my mind was automatically like “writing??” and I asked and I’m so happy you said yes. It only took me like 2 hours?? Some last night and 2 hours right now so I hope you like it! I actually do like this one lol. And also tagging @tarinthegay18 lol.

They thought it was right. They thought like it was the right action. They thought destroying Heras artifact was the right decision. But it wasn’t and they would take it back in a heartbeat. MC was put into a coma. As soon as they knew she was in a coma, they were heartbroken. But what made it worse was the fact that they blamed themself. They visited her everyday. They never changed routine. People asked why and they still ask why. The answer is always the same and they say it with no hesitation.

“Because I love her.”

That answer usually made people feel so emotional. Their voice is so raw and it almost sounds like they’re about to cry, and they usually are very close to breaking down. For almost 2 months straight, they stayed by her side. They never left her. Only leaving to get clothes, take a shower, or eat. That was it. They were always by her side because it’s what they promised. They promised to be by her side no matter what, and this was them keeping it. Even if they didn’t promise it, they would be there no matter what. They loved her and that love was pure and they couldn’t help but want to be there and stay by her side.

Aphrodite wept as well. She would visit from time to time when she had the time and when she could. It took her a long while to be able to face Alex and to see MC in her coma. Even if she looks like she’s sleeping and will wake up soon, everyone knows it’s not true. It was a hard fact for Aphrodite and Alex to accept. Aphrodite considered MCs mothers death as one of her greatest failures. But now, sitting here with her child at her side crying and their emotional state being like this, and seeing the child of her dear friend that she loved so much (and who Aphrodite loved so much), it was another one of her failures. She feels almost more guilty than Alex does. She feels like she should’ve done so much more to prevent it from going that far. It hurts her for a long time, and it’s why she does everything in her power to somehow wake her up.

She can’t stand seeing Alex weeping when they think no one is looking and to see MC suffer like that. She just can’t.

But it wasn’t working. But Alex didn’t stop. It wasn’t until Aphrodite and Hades came down to them one time and talked with them. Actually talked. No one talked at first because they knew they wouldnt. Everyone knew that no matter what they said at the time, Alex wouldn’t be able to handle it and wouldn’t listen. But it had been half a year, and they were ready to listen, even if they didn’t like it. Aphrodite and Hades said how they should get back to their normal life. They didn’t have to move on and love someone else, they should just take control at H.E.R.A again and be able to live again.

They both knew Alex wouldn’t like it, but all three of them knew it’s what they had to do. So, it’s what they did. They returned to “normal” life. However, everyone noticed the emptiness in their eyes. They missed the person they could do normal life with. They lived a long time without her, but finally getting her and loving her and receiving love in return, and suddenly losing her? It put more salt in the wound. It hurt so bad and it showed even if they tried to hide it. However, they never stopped visiting her. They loved her and even if they returned to “normal” life it wasn’t normal if they didn’t at least visit her everyday.

They would even talk to her sometimes. They would wait until everyone left the room to do it. Not out of embarrassment, but because they only wanted to talk to her. They knew she couldn’t hear them, but it helped them. They’d talk about things that happened in their day and how they miss her so much. They always finished it with “I love you. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.” Plus, sometimes when they missed her so much, they wouldn’t sleep at their apartment. They’d sleep at her room in the hospital because they just need to see her, and they wanted to be by her side just in case she did wake up. They just...miss her so much.

And when they see Josh it hurts even more. They know MC and Josh are close and the fact that what they did took her away from Josh ruins them even more. Josh never blamed Alex and he knows that Alex loves MC and would never hurt her at all. It’s why he visited her almost everyday as well. He missed her. He and MC lost their mother and it hurt them so bad, and it still does. So now seeing her like that, it reopened wounds and made some more. But everyone held hope. They always hoped that she would come back. Everyone knew she was strong and how she stood up to Zeus himself. If she could that, she would wake up.

And don’t even start about Zeus. Alex can’t help but blame him as well. They knew it wouldn’t have happened if Zeus didn’t start all of this mess about her having Heras reincarnation. But Alex couldn’t hate him, because they did see the sadness in his eyes. He may have wanted Hera back...but seeing how his actions caused all of this, he regretted it. He didn’t want to hurt one of his own kind and hurt the goddess herself. Plus, it hurt one of his own brothers. A king should care for his people, right? He eventually broke out of his want for Hera. Seeing Alex and everyone like this, it got to him and hurt him as well. He gathered everyone one day and ordered for them to somehow find information or think of ways to wake her up. He acts tough and like he always does, but he does show concern and sympathy for her.

He even called Alex to Olympus one day, but they didn’t go, so he went to them. He saw MC and he saw how Alex was clinging to her hand and couldn’t let go, and he saw that spark of anger in their eyes when they looked at him. Plus, it makes Zeus really think of his actions that happened 10 years ago as well. Shutting down H.E.R.A, MCs mothers death, everyone weeping, and now...he repeated the cycle. He caused it once again. But he didn’t let it get to him. His pride was too high. He apologized to Alex and MC even if she didn’t hear him. He also apologized for MCs moms death. Alex was surprised at that, but they felt some kind of ease when he did apologize. But on some late nights, Zeus felt so bad. He ruined someone’s life because he wanted to fix his, even when it was his fault it was ruined in the first place. But it didn’t stop him. He pushed those feelings aside and continues to ignore them.

After everything went down, after every apology, after everyone wept and tried to return to normal life, it had been a year and a half. But Alex never stopped. Neither did anyone else. But then...a miracle happened. Alex was at the hospital beside MC one day. They weren’t giving up, they never would, but they were in despair this night. They were in an emotion that they couldn’t describe. They whispered, “if you’re there at all...please do something.” And to their surprise, the hand that they clutched everyday suddenly squeezed. It was a little squeeze but it still was a squeeze. They let out a gasp and squeezed back. “MC? Please, come back to me!” Their desperation was obvious but they didn’t care. She responded. It was the most she responded in a year. She then let out a little groan and squeezed their hand once more.

Before they knew it, tears were rolling down their cheeks. They prayed that this was not a little tease from the gods themselves. Not just a little slice of her responding but slipping back into the coma. But when the tears overtook their eyes and it was all blurry, they still noticed her brown eyes opening and looking straight at them. “Alex...” she whispered out hoarsely. They let out a choked sob not able to hold back their emotion. MC managed the strength and pulled her hand away and put it on their cheek, wiping the tears away with her thumb. They then noticed tears down her face as well. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m here now. It’s all okay,” she told them, sobs coming out of her throat as well. They smiled and held her hand against their cheek, turning their face to kiss her palm. They then looked back at her and finally told her everything.

“I never left you. I knew you would wake back up. Gods, I’m so happy, MC. You’re here and you’re gonna be okay, I can’t believe it,” they rambled on. MC listened to everything they said, holding on to every word. She noticed all of the emotion in their voice and she felt it all. All her memories suddenly came back at her. She then felt guilt. She didn’t even know how long she was gone, but she knew she was gone long. She cried even more. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault, Alex. It wasn’t,” she told them with no hesitation or doubt in her voice. They shook their head. They wanted to believe her, but they couldn’t. It would take them so long to actually believe that. But it didn’t matter right now. She was here and alive and talking and being okay. They cried but pulled away and she looked at them confused. “I’m getting the doctor. They have to check on you, okay? But I’ll be right back and stay here the whole time. I’ll never leave you,” they told her as they leaned down and kissed her forehead. They left the room to get the doctor and the doctor looked at MC with such surprise.

They didn’t think she’d make it back. They didn’t know MC like everyone else did and they all had doubt, but she did it. She was back. Alex knew she would be back and would wait by her side as long as it took. Even if it took her years, they wouldn’t leave and they wouldn’t stop loving her. Aphrodite didn’t stop loving MCs mom after she was gone, so they could never stop loving MC. It’s how love works and they learned it when they saw Aphrodite weeping when MCs mother died. She still hasn’t forgotten her and still loves her and still wants her back, her love never died. And so they knew when they found someone, their love wouldn’t die either and it didn’t. They loved her the whole time and still do and are so happy.

Aphrodite was the next person to come down. She didn’t even wait. She teleported down, excitement and relief pouring out on to her face. But she knew she couldn’t compare to the amount her child felt. She immediately reached for Alex and hugged them with all of her strength. And she promised MC that when she was better she would do the same. Hug her as hard as she could. She even let out a few tears of relief and joy at seeing MC have a smile on her face. MC cried as well. May and Josh came in next. Crying before they even saw MCs face. Josh may have not been for the gods since his mothers death, but he thanked every one of them for this blessing. This blessing of having his sister back. May cried and thanked everyone to have her best friend back. “MC, you’re okay! My best friends okay!” She shouted. Everyone in the room smiled. And then Hades joined. He may not have cried, but everyone noticed how rigid he was and the tightness in his jaw. He was holding it in, but no one said anything. They believed if they did say something he might actually cry. But not of sadness...of relief. It was the emotion everyone was feeling. And he saw the glow that was surrounding Alex and everyone saw how happy they were and the bounce in their step.

After she got better and was finally released for the hospital, the wedding planning was continued. It all continued like normal. The only difference was that Zeus didn’t say anything. He didn’t intervene, he didn’t do anything. He couldn’t bring that pain back to Olympus. He knew how everyone felt and how everyone was crushed and how he caused it. He had to admit, at that time, he was a terrible king. So, he let it happened. He even smiled at Alex and MCs wedding and he didn’t see her as Hera. He saw her as MC and that’s what made MC happy as well. Plus, it happened near MCs moms grave.

Hades swore he saw someone in the corner of his eye and when he looked at a seat next to Aphrodite, he saw the back of a woman with her hair with a fancy braid in it and a white dress on. He noticed that she looked at Aphrodite and smiled, but Aphrodite didn’t look at her. She didn’t even know she was there. The woman whispered something to Aphrodite and smiled once more. Then suddenly, the woman turned around and looked at Hades. She looked him straight in the eye and he knew that face straight away. It was Melody. She was there watching her daughter with a proud smile on her face, but now she was visiting her friends and smiling at them as well. Suddenly, within a blink of an eye, she was gone, but with another blink, she was in front of the god himself. He stared but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to. She just smiled at him and whispered once more. “I love you.” He also noticed the tears forming in her eyes with her smile. It was pained, but she was happy. He nodded back at her and closed his eyes, trying to keep everything in. He opened them and also saw Melody next to Josh, whispering once more, whispering those words. She kissed him on the cheek as well causing Josh to pause in his conversation. He shook his head and continued to talk. She then went to MC and Alex talking and laughing together. She smiled at them and kissed MC on her cheek and kissed Alex on their cheek as well. It caused them both confusion but they smiled and waved it off.

It was joy all around. Not just for the living, but for the dead as well. He looked at her and noticed the happiness in her face and the slight glow on her body. But after she was done visiting the people she loved, she turned to Aphrodite and blew a kiss with a wave and did the same to Hades. Then she slowly faded away, back to the Heavens where she belonged. Back to where no one would hurt her and where she would be safe and could watch over everyone she loved. It put Hades at peace and filled him with love once again. He kept it to himself, but he knew everyone felt it in the room.

It was a blessfull evening with joy and love from everyone. Everyone was finally glad that MC was awaken and happy that Alex was finally alive again and would continue that way. And he promised that no one would interfere with their life again, even if he somehow has to fight against everyone. He wouldn’t let their life be ruined again.

Okay so...this is it!! I’m actually proud of it!! I couldn’t help but include the part of MCs mother being there at the wedding and seeing everyone. I just couldn’t help it ;-;. But yeah I hope y’all liked this because I did! I literally didn’t sleep at night. I only slept until like 4 am and didn’t go back to sleep but the good thing about my orchestra teacher is that he doesn’t mind if we miss the meetings! He’s that cool teacher and I love him and that’s all. I hope you enjoyed this reading and cried like I almost did. But yeah!

I’m writing some other fics as well. One of that Ares AU in my other post AND the one of MCs mother singing for MC and how MC listener to it as a coping mechanism. Yeah. Bye for now! Also, with the “I love you” stated to Hades, irs not as in romantic love. It’s as in she loves him as best friend ya know?? She just loves him and Aphrodite and had to remind them.

[themerrymutants]

Long ass “what if Aragorn and crew were hipsters” modern au headcanons

@loyalservants​ - since you’d asked to see :)

Under a cut because there’s.. a lot. Also there’s a bit of canon breaking here but what’s a good au without a bit of canon breaking?

Elrond works as head doctor at the local trauma clinic. Having been alive as long as he has he's amassed quite a fortune which he uses to cover the cost of medical care for those who can't afford it himself.

He returned to Middle Earth when word reached him that Aragorn had passed on but his daughter hadn’t. It killed him to leave his wife a second time but, not knowing the fate of his sons, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone so he pleaded to be allowed to go back and join her and was eventually granted permission on the condition that if he or any others who inevitably follow suit do they will never be able to return. 

Celebrían eventually rejoins her husband and children on December 24th 2008 (modern calendar). In March of 2009 she contacted her parents, with a bit of help from her children, via text pretending to be Arwen. She wasn’t even able to get a simple “hello” out before she was pulled into a tear filled bear hug

Galadriel is a self defense course instructor at the Y and a very active environmental activist and human rights activist because for the love of Eru she’s way too old for your shenanigans humanity and someone has to fix it. humans are cute but by the valar are they dumb. Galadriel is still very much someone nobody wants to f*ck with and those stupid enough to still try anyway end up regretting it dearly. Rule #1 of telepaths: don’t piss off a telepath.

Her husband is a historian and has long since worked with his colleagues to help preserve Elven heritage sites.

Legolas looks wise looks like what would happen if you shoved him and Skrillex in a blender and put it on “puree” and already has a degree as a veterinarian (specializing in exotics) and is a biology and environmental studies dual major.

 Aragorn is a history major and is starting to get the memories of his past life back though he keeps this quiet because he rather enjoys his classes.

Gimli is dual majoring engineering and economics, Pippin and Merry are general studies majors and honestly have no idea what they’re doing half the time but hey at least they’re having fun doing it!

Arwyn, as she spells it in modern day to try and stay lower key, works at a tattoo parlor and has a total Kat Von D look going on which drives her dad up the wall.

Sam and Frodo are ex marines that were on the same squad (only survivors after an IED went off) they are roomies they were honorably discharged and earned a purple heart. Sam is blind in his left eye and Frodo was paralyzed from the waist down both suffer from PTSD. They've got two labs named Samson and Delilah who think they are lap dogs. Samson is a service dog washout (he was supposed to be Sam's dog but he just didn't have the right drive for it) and Delilah is Frodo's service dog. Currently Sam is looking for new candidates. In this AU Frodo died at mount doom so I can have him reincarnate with Sam since there was no way in hell Frodo would come back to middle earth after the sh*t he went through.

Legolas has a blind albino reticulated python named Lucy who was a rescue from a mass breeder. She's a bit off in more ways than one but is as sweet a noodle as possible Legolas often takes in special needs herps that his rescue can't home for various reasons 

Gandalf is the history professor and has become resigned to the fact that humans are dumb af and kind of need perpetual babysitting (races and magic and shit have remained unchanged just because it's more fun that way)

Thranduil is tough as nails and gives 0 fucks. if something needs done to keep those in his territory safe he will do it regardless of legality Cops don't bother coming because it's a cesspool and they've got less taxing things to do He's kind of a mob boss archetype but good and does good well except when he kicks some faces in but they always deserve it. He’s kind of the head of his own lil section of an as of yet unnamed city. He's not like crime or mob boss so much as "police don't do sh*t so we keep the peace instead". Police are happy to do so because the area is basically Gotham crime wise and nobody wants to touch it with a 40 ft pole I love the idea that Thranduil ended up blinded after his run in with Smaug he ended up staying in middle earth the entire time god bless his poor soul. In modern era he ran into a gangster with a fondness for flame throwers and got toasty again. Received extensive burns but survived because 1 Thranduil, and 2 like hell he was gonna die now when sh!t still needs to be kept in order.

Elves did sail to the west but it was less going back home and more "FUCK THIS SHIT I'M OUT" Eventually they come back and first land in ireland becoming the basis of the Tuatha Dé Danann Because I will die on the hill that elves are somehow involved with celtic mythology in the universe of LOTR and yes I know it's not earth but come on The geography actually kind of matches ...no I did not have an embarassing phase where I was way too obsessed with LOTR and calculated this stuff for funsies

I'm also super fond for immortals watching throughout history and just going "why did I do this again?" Also Elrond getting even more done with humanity gives me life

Merry is addicted to idle games and half the storage space on his phone is filled with them. 

Pippin has won a few Pokemon tournaments and even got a scholarship from one of them. He enjoys building teams from "useless" Pokemon and wiping the floor with them. His favorite pokemon to use is Pachirisu because no one expects to have their ass handed to them by a pika clone.

In this AU Aragorn is reincarnated over and over and over again and Arwen somehow manages to find him each time. Sometimes they’re lovers other times they’re just friends and every once in a while she’ll only manage to briefly brush past him before he’s gone again. Her father tried to convince her to go be with her mother but she found that even the short amount of time she got to spend with her love each time was worth the sorrow of losing him again, and again, and again.

Elrond and Celebrían renewed their vows in 2015 after learning of the practice and finding it fitting. Their first dance was to Like I’m Gonna Lose You

[sammyspreadyourwings]

Okay so - maybe a Maylor angst with number 24, with a hurt Brian? How does it sound?

24) I thought I’d never see you again

CW: Death, mention of injury

Reincarnation AU? Reincarnation AU.

Circa Future

Brian didn’t know the steps were icy. He might have guessed because of the rain from last night and the cold temperatures today, but he didn’t really think about it. That is until he was staring up and the London gray sky and waiting for the worrying twinge on his side to go away. The ringing in his ears is the worst.

Someone leans over him. He has a second to notice stunning blue eyes before it feels like he’s tumbling down the steps again. Memories, years and years’ worth, batter against his brain, free from where they were locked away. Emotions, feelings he hadn’t even considered drift into his heart ranging from elation to sorrow to love to regret. Brian has to choke back a sob, but the intensity of what he’s feeling forces it out anyway.

The man on top of him – No he knows the name give him a second. Is crouching over him, one hand by his head and his eyes closed against the intense wave that must also be feeling. Brian notices tears drop to his cheeks, but he’s too enchanted and dazed to even considering wiping them away.

Eventually, blue eyes flutter open again. Brian feels himself soften as he gazes into them again.

“Hi,” he wheezes out.

Oh right. He fell down steps. That’s probably a broken rib. He’ll deal with that in a second.

“Hi,” the man smiles.

Roger! The name floats to the front of his mind. Roger still has that easy smile that Brian fell in love with so many years ago. Longer than he can think about right now. The features have changed though, in this new life of theirs. His blond hair as more of a wave to it he can tell even though most of it’s in a ponytail, and there are freckles across the bridge of his nose. Eyes are always the same though. That’s how you know.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Roger whispers.

The pure ache in the voice hurts. Nearly as much as his side. Brian reaches up one hand to trace across the new constellation. He wonders how differently he looks to Roger. Roger lifts one hand to play with his curls.

“They’re looser now,” Roger mumbles.

A sharp lance of pain reminds him that he’s injured, “uh, do you think you can help me to the clinic?”

Roger’s eyes go comically wide, “I don’t believe you.”

“You saw me fall down the steps.”

It makes Roger laugh, and Brian feels the rush of love press against his heart and he’s sure that it has nothing to do with any injury. Roger helps him up to his feet, and then its like they can’t stop touching. They head towards the clinic, having to stop every few minutes to just absorb everything from the person next to them to the memories floating around in their head.

They go back to Roger’s flat after the clinic. Brian’s side is wrapped, and salve rubbed over it to help with the bruising. At least he hadn’t broken anything like he feared he had. Memories are slowly settling in, and they all seem to be at the tail end of his former life.

Roger for his part, seems content to wrap around his waist and never let go. Brian tugs the hair out of the rubber band holding it back and it falls softly to Roger’s shoulder. He was right, it is wavier now.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Brian echoes the statement from earlier.

“Statistics weren’t in our favor,” Roger shrugs, “but it worked out.”

Brian spares a thought to John and Freddie. They’ll have to look for them.

“God, I missed you,” Brian breathes.

“How long after?”

He tilts his head back in thought. Roger’s fingers trace the underside of his jaw, which he can tell now is the slightest bit narrower.

“Not long,” Brian replies, “only a couple years. I couldn’t do it without you.”

Roger bends down to nuzzle at his collarbone. They hadn’t had this in their previous life, it wasn’t so much they missed their chance as they agreed that they’d just stay by each other’s side. This time, there wasn’t pressure from society or strings of wives and girlfriends. He thinks they may have to find Jim for Freddie and Veronica for John. Maybe he and Roger would be enough.

“You’re thinking about them?” Roger presses kisses along his neck.

“Yes,” he breathes, “we can do this all over.”

Roger sits up with a frown, “just Queen?”

“No, everything. Us. Freddie. We can be there for John.”

Something makes Roger’s lips quirk up, “we don’t have Red Special.”

Brian wonders if he could convince the person keeping her to give her back. Then he shakes his head, he’ll build something new. They won’t be Queen again, too much heaviness in that legacy.

He pushes up, a small wince when his side reminds him, he’s injured it, and presses a kiss to Roger’s lips. They playfully nose and kiss at each other. Brian presses another kiss, more serious this time and Roger notices.

“Please don’t make me live without you again.”

The memories are still vague, but he can tell how gray they are to the ones before. They match the years after Freddie’s death and John’s retirement. Even without knowing the exact situations, he knows that he hadn’t handled it as well as he could have, and he can’t think the word now, not with Roger in front of him. He’s heard of people dying from broken hearts and he half expects that’s what happened to him.

“If you promise the same.”

Brian drags a hand away from his curls, and presses a kiss to the ring finger, “I swear.”

Roger mirrors the action.

[brazil-also-loves-rwby]

To move on 1 - RWBY FANFIC

Hello everyone. This is my fanfic Para Seguir Em Frente. I translated it because I received many visits from countries with English language. MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Please comment.

PS: This fanfic should be just an Oneshot, so it's slowly developing in my mind. Please be patient. Suggestions are always welcome. Originaly posted here https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13256016/1/To-move-on

Oscar took a deep breath and dismounted from the horse that had brought him a good part of the way back home. It was strange to be back after so long. Everything seemed exactly the same and at the same time different. The fields, the barn, and even the house seemed smaller than he remembered. Maybe because he was so taller now. Maybe because he had seen that the world was so much bigger than this little piece of land. Nostalgia hit him hard in the chest, fueling his nervousness. Suddenly, he felt the same 14-year-old boy as he had been years ago, afraid of being scolded by his aunt for a slip.

'Fortunately I'm not a boy anymore.' Oscar said to himself mentally and for a fraction of a second he found himself waiting for an answer that would not come. His sweaty palms thwarted his claim, so Oscar wiped them on the sturdy fabric of his combat pants before knocking on the door. He could hear a painfully familiar female voice respond in the background and hurried footsteps approaching. Oscar had time just to draw one last breath of courage before the door opened in front of him.

His aunt stared straight into his chest, seeming to be expecting someone lower, so he saw all the emotions in her face as she looked up to find his face. Confusion. Recognition. Relief. Joy and finally, fury. His aura was active before her fists met his chest for the first time, out of pure instinct, but he did not do anything else to stop the blows from continuing to strike him.

- OSCAR PINE! HOW DO YOU DARE TO APPEAR HERE, LIKE NOTHING HAD EVER HAPPENED, AFTER YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK, RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME WITHOUT LEAVING NO MORE THAN ONE LITTLE NOTE, FOR YEARS ?! YEARS OSCAR ?!

She screamed and punched his chest, tears tearing at her words until finally consuming them in a continuous cry. Soon, the hands that had beaten him now clung to the fabric of his shirt as if he would disappear if she let him go. Oscar wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, feeling his own tears escape his eyes. He held her close to him for a long time, until the sobbing stopped. Slowly, breathing still half trembling, she moved away to look him in the eye.

- You're going to tell me everything that happened. - She tried to look angry, to no avail. She looked just tired and relieved that he was there.

- Yes ma'am. Oscar agreed with a smile.

They went in and Oscar made tea. They both remained silent, assimilating each other's presence, until they sat facing each other on the kitchen table, their full mugs in hand.

- Why did you run away without saying anything? She spoke first. His voice was low and controlled now, but Oscar felt the resentment and sadness in each word.

- I ... I was afraid that, if I told you, I would convince the two of us that I was going crazy. At worst I would rid you of the responsibility of raising an insane orphan.

-And why in the name of the gods would you be mad? - Oscar gulped, staring at his own reflection of the tea for a long moment.

- Because I was listening to the voice of a man in my head, insisting that he was a millenarian mage destined to reincarnate in the body of a person with a similar soul until the world was ready to receive the judgment of the gods. - He looked up to meet his aunt's shocked expression.

- Was about you that the gods were speaking on the 'Return Day'? About the young boy with two souls? - Oscar nodded and his aunt just stared at him for a long time, absorbing the absurdity of the situation. Taking a deep breath, she took a long sip of her tea and continued. - Tell me everything. When it started?

- Shortly after the fall of Beacon, when the last incarnation of Ozma, Ozpin, passed away. Ozma spent months convincing me that I was not going crazy. - Oscar took a sip of tea, trying to wash away the bitterness of the difficult memories that would follow. - Telling me we had little time and Salem, the witch who controlled the grimms, had already destroyed Beacon and Haven was their next target. I almost lost my mind, but ... He shared his memories with me. Things I could never know, but they were true. And, like I said, if I was right, I had no choice but to help save the world. If I were wrong ... You would be rid of the burden of dealing with a madman.

- But ... You left with nothing! Any money! For months I thought you starved, alone in the cold! - She sighed, calming down. - That, of course, until the first check came. - She frowned. - You disappear for months and suddenly I'm getting liens with no information other than 'Oscar' on the paychecks. If I had not known better, I would have thought you'd fallen for the mafia. - Oscar laughed lightly.

- I left without money because I could not force myself to steal from you. I was leaving you to take care of this entire farm alone. I had no idea if you could do it or not. So I just got all the food I could and left. - He sighed. - When I finally met Qrow and the other hunters, Qrow gave me access to Ozpin's bills and cards. I asked Ozpin if I could send some money home, so we scheduled a monthly deposit on your behalf.

- You went to a group of hunters?

- Well, with the exception of Qrow, none of them had graduate from the academy. But they were all capable and determined fighters. You see...

Oscar calmly explained the events that led to the fall of Beacon, his way to Haven, and then to Atlas. He sometimes paused stoped in the middle of the description of the battles, or before the revelations of Ozma, to calm his aunt. She listened to everything, bashful.

- There were many other battles. We had to ensure the safety of the relics and, with Raven's death, Ruby became the new Spring Maiden.

- Wait. - She asked, more than an hour later, as she rubbed her temples to ward off a headache. - You did not say that power passed to...

- The last person she was thinking of, if she was a young woman. Yes. Ruby was able to persuade Raven to trust her enough for this, in her last moments.

- But from what you said, the woman hated the that girl.

- I ... I do not think that was the case. There were family issues and strong ties involved.

- I see... So Ruby became the Spring Maiden, and...

- In short, among Salem's many attacks and schemes, we end up with the entire RWBY team as maidens. We put Cynder on a huge machine to transfer her powers to Blake, who was injured and could no longer fight. Magic was the only thing that gave her strength to survive. We thought we'd lost her that day...

The woman reached across the table and took one of the nephew's hands in a gesture of comfort. He smiled at her and continued.

- Later, we lost both Winter and Summer Maiden in the same incident. It was a surprise and devastating attack. - He squeezed her aunt's hand in return. - We never got a chance to make a plan if one of the ladies died. Apparently they decided to keep the girls in their final thoughts. The sudden magic they received that day saved our lives.

- For how many horrible experiences you went trought, Oscar? I listened on the radio, day after day, to the news of disasters and attacks, while you were out there living it all...

- I did not experience anything compared to Ozma, aunt. He lived years in bodies that were not his, fighting an impossible fight, watching people die in vain. I still vividly remember his feelings when Ruby finally defeated Salem in the 'Final War'. It's been a month, has not it? It took me a long time to get here, with the chaos that the world is now. It still seems like yesterday.

- How did she do that? Defeated the witch, I mean.

- With her silver eyes. - Oscar's voice became almost reverent, still amazed at her friend's courage. - We covered her guard, we cleared the way and she literally grabbed Salem by the face, forcing her to meet hes eyes, and fired the energy of the light against her. Everything that was grimm inside Salem was gone. All hatred and all madness, leaving only one woman who lived too long behind.

- So she learned the value of death?

- She had known it for a long time, but the poison of the grimms was too much for her mind. As much as she had her memories and intelligence, she only wanted destruction like any other grimm. Without it, she was able to think clearly and bear the burden of her thousands of sins. With that, the curse broke.

- And the gods?

- As I said, we have assembled an army with warriors, soldiers, and hunters from all kingdoms against Salem. As we used all the relics against it, it was a consensus that humanity was as united as possible at this time. So we risk our luck and call on the gods.

- I remember ... - The woman shuddered, remembering the moment. - I was hiding in the basement of the town hall, along with the others, when it happened. Suddenly we were all in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thousands of people, in front of the gods. It was terrifying to see those dragons above us.

- Yes. We were just below them. But luckily, we were considered worthy of a second chance. Salem was finally awarded with her final rest, just like Ozma.

- What happened to him, exactly? He ... Is not with you any more? - Oscar shook his head.

- No. The God of Light gave him the opportunity to live one last life in Remnant, but he refused. He said that, unlike many past lives, I was my own person and we never really merged together. So he... He just walked away of me. I felt him leave my mind and materialize in front of me. Can you imagine what it is like to live intertwined with someone for years and never have really looked into their eyes?

His aunt said nothing, letting him get lost in his memories.

- He left to the afterlife, like Salem. Even so, part of him never left me. I have his memories, the accumulated knowledge of lives and, well, some of his mannerisms as well. - He laughed awkwardly, gesturing at how he sat in the chair, straight, confident, and elegant. - The rest you and the rest of the world witnessed, the announcement of the return of the gods. - Aunt Pine nodded and continued, moistening her lips.

- The Dark Brother... - She murmured the god's title with fearful reverence. - He ... He said he gave us our gift once more. The magic.

- Yes. - Oscar held both hands forward and let little shiny balls dangle in his palms. - We all have magic now. You can do it, too. Some people, of course, will discover greater aptitude for different uses of magic in the future. And that's why I'm on my way to Vale.

- Valley? Why?

- The team RWBY has had some experience with magic, but I'm the only person who really has knowledge on the subject. So I will be teaching teachers, so this knowledge can be passed on to all realms. So... Maybe you... Would like to move in with me? I'm going to receive a generous salary. - I could say 'absurd' instead, Oscar thought mentally. - I can buy a beautiful house in the city or a cottage by the woods. Anywhere you feel most at ease...

Aunt May looked at her nephew for a long moment. He really had changed. He was tall and strong, hardened by many battles in such a young body. He spoke with confidence of a person with years of experience. But now, asking for her company so timidly, she saw clearly the 19-year-old nephew he still was. He was afraid she would reject him, after all. Her eyes filled with tears once more.

- Foolish boy. Of course I will go with you. I've already lost you once and I will not let you out of my sight again so soon.

She got up to hug him and he found her halfway around the table, receiving her with open arms.

The next morning, while Oscar was still asleep, she set up a modest altar for the gods. Lighting a candle for each of them, she clasped her hands and thanked them for their mercy, and prayed that her life would be long enough to see the faces of her grandchildren. She and Oscar never admitted to each other but, in their hearts, they were mother and son.

[valewright67]

It's been a few lifetimes. Almost a century, now. He's wandering, aimless as he usually does while he waits for her next life to find him. He eventually makes his way into a small kingdom. It's still young. He vaguely remembers it being founded some 20 years ago.

He's walking near the castle courtyard, not paying much attention, just passing by it on his way to the market to grab some food. He tenses when he hears a familiar voice that shouldn't be real, it can't possibly! She's human, she'd have died by now!

The guilt he feels for practically forgetting about her in his grief in the beginning weighs on him constantly. He loved that little girl, and so did his Elizabeth.

Half terrified, and not believing his senses, he slowly turns, eyes wide.

"Merlin?"

She tenses, turns, and stares at him. "Meliodas?"

The Tears escape. "Merliiiinnn!!" 

He hugs her tightly, to the shock of the human nobles around them. (She had been discussing politics and the use of something or another with them.)

"H-How are you here?? You're a demon, you're supposed to be sealed!"

He sniffed. "It's a long story. I'm so sorry for leaving you, so SO sorry. It's inexcusable, and I'm a bastard for it, but I'm really glad to see you, Mer. I didn't think I had anyone left." 

Merlin stiffened further. "Big sis-sis…?" 

He shook his head. "Like I said, it's a long story."

“Well, start explaining! What happened to her, did she lose her body like the rest of the goddesses?” They both ignored the murmurs of the curious and surprised humans behind them. 

He shook his head. “She died. She’s died four times so far. I can't take it, Mer."

“Meliodas.” She gripped his shoulders and pulled him away. “What are you talking about?” 

He wiped his eyes. “Our parents. The Supreme Deity and The Demon King. They cursed us. I can’t die, Merlin. I can’t! I don’t age, I don’t get sick! I tried to kill myself but it didn’t stick, I just came right back! And Ellie keeps reincarnating, over and over as a human. If she ever gets her memories back, she dies in three days, and she dies in front of me, every single time, all without fail.” His voice had grown quiet and strained. “Four times, I’ve held her body, Merlin. Four times she's been cold and broken and limp. And there’s no end in sight. I promised her I’d find a way to break the curse, but I don’t even know where to start! I don’t have the same power as the gods, they killed us the first time round, like we were nothing more than bugs!” He sobbed, and scrubbed hastily at his face, ducking to avoid eye contact. 

She stared at him for a moment, before drawing him into another, tentative hug. She was never the greatest at affection, or comfort, but even she could tell he needed someone familiar to lean on right now. “Alright. We’ll, we’ll figure it out, ok? I’ll help you break the curse. Do you know where Big Sis-Sis is right now?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. She’s yet to make her way to me. I do know her current incarnation, number 5, will be 11 years old right now, because her last incarnation died 11 years ago. She got stabbed by some thieves. By the time I got to her, it was too late. I arrived just in time for her to smile at me, and then her heart stopped beating.” Merlin hugged him a little bit tighter. This news was distressing to her as well.

"Ok. Ok, come on, let's go get you cleaned up."

Even tho we’re all angry with Merlin I love the relationshot she HAD with Mel and Eli, and so I need a question to be answered.

After Elizabeth’s death, did Meliodas go off on his journey immediately, and say “screw the child we’re practically fostering”?

In a way I hope that’s the case cause I would just LOVE the idea of Merlin having tracked him down like, 200 years after Elizabeth’s death.

having him sit with his bank against a tree, eyes closed, enjoying the breeze, and then he hears “i finally found you...” he recognized her the moment he saw her, after all she had shown him that form before.

It set in. He had abandoned her to her own fate. Yes, she was a clever child, but that doesn’t condone him.

And another thing he would be so confused, like..’HOW IS SHE STILL ALIVE?! SHES HUMAN, SHE SHOULDNT LAST THIS LONG’ but nevertheless, he was happy to see her again.

[ceiaofsilence]

Burn So Bright, Ch.1

Summary: Peaceful retirement is a long way off... Giotto doesn’t know how he ended up reincarnated as Harry Potter, but he will make the best of it.

It begins with warmth and light. It comes with emotions, impressions, noises. Harry sees Mama's hair and thinks of blistering hot fire, and his chest feels warm and happy. Mama's eyes are green, and he sees sparks and has to giggle. Papa has a loud laugh, and the rumbling when Harry is held against his chest makes him think of earth and red-brown fire, he snuggles closer and basks in the feeling. When Mama takes him out into the gardens to sit in the sun together, he feels there should be more noise. There is a little stream and pond in the garden, and Harry doesn't question why it soothes him, or why he hears flute music in his head. Above in the sky, the clouds soar and he feels safe.

He doesn't question anything. These things simply are, and they make him happy, and when he's happy, Mama and Papa are happy. All is well. Sometimes he wakes up, scared and with tears on his face, but Mama and Papa are always quick to soothe the bad things away.

It's a simple life and Harry never worries for anything.

Then comes the monster. Mama takes him into his arms and runs, and Harry with chilling clarity knows that this time it won't be all right. This time the fear is real. Papa stays behind, and even though he can't see it happen, he feels it in his bones when Papa is gone, and knows he isn't coming back. He starts to cry, and Mama presses him closer to her chest, whispering sweet assurances of her love for him to him, but tears drip from her eyes as her fingers desperately trace the lines of his face.

"Mama loves you, darling," she whispers, smiling despite the fear clouding her eyes. "We must be brave now."

"Mama," Harry whines.

"Shh, love," she coos. "Everything is going to be all right, I promise. Because Mama loves you. Don't ever forget that Mama loves you."

Harry isn't good at talking yet, the words he has in his head are all wrong, and his mouth can't quite form the right noises. But deep inside, he knows that this is the last chance he will ever have to tell his Mama that, "Love too, Mama."

A dry sob escapes her, her fingers joining together in a prayer. "Please, give me strength, I can't do this, I want to see my little boy grow up..."

"Mama stwong," Harry lisps, and presses a finger to her cheek. There is warmth in his hand, and he wills it to go to Mama. "Mama bwave."

She sobs harder. "My brave little man." One last time, she holds him close, her lips pressing against his forehead. "I love you so, so much."

And she sets him down in his crib, wipes her tears away, and stands before him. When the monster comes, she doesn't falter, doesn't give in, doesn't cry. She falls in a blaze of red, and something inside of Harry cries out, and for a moment he doesn't see red hair, and empty green eyes turned to him; he sees golden hair and blue eyes closing, nearly as beautiful in death as she was in life; and his grief knows no end.

But he doesn't cry. Mama said they must be brave now. Mama is gone now, but Harry is still here. He will not cower before his enemies, no matter how frightening they are.

The warmth inside him rises, and he sees amber reflected in malicious red eyes.

"Avada Kedavra!" the monster hisses, and vile green light shoots at him. It hits him, but Harry isn't afraid. It hurts him, but he does not cry out. Green sparks are all around him, and it is as if Mama is holding him in her embrace again. Harry is safe.

But the green light knocks something loose in his head, and suddenly he remembers...

His name is Giotto.

Then everything goes up in fire, beautiful, orange-golden, cleansing Flames. The monster shrieks as its body perishes and its spirit flees.

Perhaps Giotto-Harry would have been consumed by his own fire, but a part of the monster's spirit splinters off and worms itself into his head, and suddenly all fire is doused and all warmth is gone. Blackness claims him.

   By the time Giotto-Harry is four, he remembers. Everything. Even if he doesn't comprehend all of it, even if he doesn't know how to handle all of it.

His heart is so, so full. Warmth, for he had been blessed with such happiness. Such wonderful family members. He remembers the Storm, steadfast, always by his side, never faltering, never relenting, always there to rely on. He remembers the rain, the soothing melodies of his flute, the sense of peace he always brought with him. The Sun, bright and bold and loud, the one who never doubts, who is so strong, and yet so gentle with his hands that heal. The Lightning, the little brother, playful, fearful at times but loyal to the bone, brave in the face of fear. And the Cloud, he who is just and reliable, he whom he could trust to give him the hard truths, who was strong enough to stop Giotto should he ever stray from the right path.

Finally the Mist, so full of love that it broke him when she died. There is pain in his heart when he thinks of him, guilt, betrayal.

And Elena, the brightest star, the sister of Giotto's heart. Smart as she was bold, kind as she was strong, beloved by all. (But the brightest stars fade the fastest, don't they?)

Cozart, the man he called brother, his best friend. The Earth, grounding to Giotto's Sky, their dreams, their hearts, one and the same.

And Setsuna, the girl he married. Far too young for him with her eighteen years to his thirty-three, and far too good. He met her after he retired to Japan, when all was peaceful and he had no idea what to do with himself. Not the most beautiful girl in the world, not the smartest either, but her smile was the most wondrous thing in the world, her laughter like chiming bells. She had the ability to listen, not with her ears but with her heart, and she loved just as fiercely as he did. She gave him Yoshimune, his beloved son, who had her face, her eyes, her smile, but Giotto's, then Ieyasu's, Flame and Will.

He feels such love for them all. His family. His child-heart is too small to hold it all, and when he thinks of them, he feels he can take on the world.

Yet he also feels the greatest sadness, for they are at his side no more. He's alone, and it's cold when he thinks about this fact.

Still, he has them in his heart, in his Flame, and while he cries for them for a time, he eventually stops and moves on. For their memory, he must go on bravely and strongly. The Sky mustn't break.

   He has a family here, too. But they are only blood-ties. No bond that matters.

Petty people with mean hearts. They call him names, they keep him in a small and dark space shared with spiders and dust. They make him work to exhaustion, him whom they think is a child. They tell him his parents were useless and unstable, a burden on society, who didn't love him and pushed him on the decent, god-fearing and hard-working people of Privet Drive No.4 when they inevitably got themselves killed in their recklessness.

Giotto, for that is what he has decided his name is now, smiles in the wake of their words. They are only lies, it is them he is ashamed to share blood with. His parents were heroes, they love him fiercely, and he mourns their deaths every day.

And to call them burdens on society? It makes him want to laugh. Giotto once was the bane of society, he who fought against the status quo, against injustice and bigotry, who accepted any and all into his family without care of their status. The all-accepting Sky, that is who he was then and still is.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, for he refuses to call them anything else, are merely two tiny characters in a grand world full of wonders. They cannot understand the love he carries with him, the magnitude of his heart, the strength of his resolve, and they are far too small-minded to ever see that the only ones they truly hurt with their bigotry and prejudice are themselves.

People who only see themselves will never look to the Sky.

Were he anyone else from the past, Giotto would have raged and protested. G, he would have utterly destroyed the Dursleys, attacked not just them but their finances, their reputation, everything they value. Asari would have smiled, and proceeded to terrify them until they would barely have been able to stand making noise around him. Lampo, he would have thrown the mother of all tantrums, treated the whole neighbourhood to his shrieks of injustice and his crocodile's tears, and he would have succeeded. Daemon, the less said about him, the better. And Alaude... that doesn't even bear thinking about.

But Giotto is Giotto, and he is the Sky. He has other weapons at his disposal. This is not a battle to be fought publicly.

He works in the gardens often, visible to anyone who passes. He makes sure to be polite to everyone, gives them the kindest of smiles. He helps the elderly ladies to carry their groceries, he offers to walk dogs. Mr. Miller needs his car washed? Giotto will do it. Mrs. Cotton's back hurts, but her flowerbeds need to be weeded? Giotto loves gardening. Any chore that needs doing, he will offer to do, and he politely refuses to take money for it.

It's not even that he's manipulating them. He genuinely enjoys helping people, loves hearing about their stories, getting to know them. He has a smile and a kind word for everyone. The younger children begin to flock to him because he defuses any and all bullying with words and charisma.

A few months after he first ventured out to explore the neighbourhood, and he cannot go far without anyone calling out a greeting to him, offering him tea, a piece of candy, or a chat about their child's latest antics. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley attempt to talk bad about him but it does not go over well. Either they can barely get a word in due to neighbours gushing just how proud they must be of how sweet and polite their nephew is, or they get disgusted looks when they do get to speak of their opinion.

Of course, they attempt to keep him inside in reaction. But the neighbours come to see Giotto instead. Mrs. Dursley has to do some quick talking while her husband drags him out of the cupboard under the stairs which is in clear view of the house's entry. The Dursley claim sweet Harry was helping to clean it. The neighbours don't really buy it, considering Mr. Dursley had to unlock it in order to get him out.

Little Whinging is a very boring little town. The inhabitants crave stimulation of the mind, and gossip is what they use. They are all the more nosy for it.

Giotto gets his own bedroom that very evening, at the age of six he is finally allowed to sleep in a bed. This is only the first victory.

Another is Dudley Dursley, Giotto's cousin. For all that Vernon and Petunia Dursley love their son, they are bad parents. They never tell him no, they set him no rules, no limits. They give him everything he asks for. Yet Mr. Dursley is often gone for work, and Mrs. Dursley sees him with rose-coloured glasses and talks to him as if he has no brain and hasn’t aged since he was two.

Dudley is not at all smart, but a part of him has interpreted the lack of rules and strictness as a lack of caring, and in reaction he demands attention by acting out. But it has the opposite effect, instead of setting boundaries, his parents get even more lenient and simpering, and they don't see the anger brewing and growing in Dudley.

It is Giotto who makes his move. It's not easy, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley have conditioned their son to reject and despise everything about his cousin. But Giotto refuses to relent. He is persistent, and while he won't claim the adult Dursleys as family unless they drastically change their ways and truly repent, Dudley is different. He's a child, he doesn't know any better.

Giotto doesn't give up on him. No matter the awful things Dudley shouts at him, no matter the many times he goes complaining to his parents. And shouted rejections of Giotto's rebukes become petulant 'why?'s and drawn out arguments and excuses why Dudley should be allowed to do as he wishes, and the other boy doesn't even notice that by beginning to argue, he's shown that he does listen to Giotto's words.

But what really wins Giotto his cousin's loyalty is this: He teaches him to read. Dudley is nine years old, has been going to school for a number of years, but he is incapable of reading simple texts, and he hides it by shouting and yelling, by writing his letters down so crooked no one could possibly decipher them and thus notice that his scribbles make barely sense at all.

Giotto notices. And instead of ridiculing Dudley or calling him stupid like the boy expects, he sits down with him and a children's book, and with endless patience teaches him to focus, to breathe through the anxiety he feels when the letters begin to swim on the pages, teaches him to spell out the words to himself, to slow down and take the time to decipher word by word, and if that is going too fast, syllable by syllable, letter by letter. It's not easy and Dudley is a reluctant student to put it mildly, but in the end? He's able to read texts by himself, though it does take him a long time to do so.

Dudley will never seek Giotto's friendship or guidance, will never be seen in public with him, but he comes to crave Giotto's approval. It is Giotto who teaches him to be kind, to not be a bully. It is Giotto who encourages him to exercise, to eat healthy. It is he who helps him do his homework, he who explains difficult words, he who teaches him how to add, subtract, multiply and divide numbers.

And thus, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley lose the one way they have to physically attack Giotto, they themselves balk at physically abusing him. Oh, there were attempts at swatting him in the heat of a moment, or tries to grab him harshly. But Giotto avoided those easily, leaning out of the way casually. And when that had made Mr. Dursley even angrier, made him try harder to hurt him, Giotto had done his best to imitate his Rain's lethal smile, the one that looks angelic and kind, not an ounce of killing intent used, but sends shivers down the recipient's spine regardless. Mr. Dursley backed down immediately.

It's not a kind life. Giotto has to work for every bit of his basic human rights. He still has to do his chores and those of his neighbours. Being kind takes barely any effort, but it does add up when he has to put on a sweet front for the entire neighbourhood anytime, every day. He manages, though.

By the time the letter comes, Little Whinging is no longer a callous and suspicious neighbourhood. The people are happier, they laugh more, chat more with each other. Children play in the streets and gardens, and rarely do people spy on each other anymore. The bigotry has been toned down to a minimum. And Harry Potter is the benevolent ruler of Little Whinging, and nobody even realises it.

  Giotto cannot use Flames.

It's that thing in his head, the one that wormed its way in after he was hit with the green light. It acts like a barrier, like a Flame seal; and try as he might, Giotto hasn't been able to work past it. He'd need to use Flames to destroy it, but the very thing he wants to be rid of prevents him from getting rid of it in the first place.

It's a strange and uncomfortable feeling. The first few years were miserable, he felt too cold all the time and off-kilter. His limbs wouldn't move the way he wanted them to, and it was only amplified by the fact that his body is too young and small, so terribly lacking compared to Giotto's powerful and tall one.

It's like a blanket over his mind, a damper on everything Giotto is. He's still himself, but less. His movements are slightly clumsy instead of graceful, his mind is slower, and his attention is quick to wander.

And try as he might, he's incapable of going into Dying Will mode. He hates this.

He has theories on what might help, but life-threatening situations are the last thing anyone would find in Little Whinging of all places, closely followed by battles. There aren't even any tall buildings he could jump off of, and no guarantee it'll work in any case. Also, he can just feel G turning in his grave at the mere idea of Giotto placing his life in danger intentionally.

If he had a goal, something to place all his Resolve on, someone to protect with everything he has, perhaps then Giotto would be able to Activate his Flames. But again, his location works against him. Little Whinging is completely and utterly civilian. Nothing ever happens, every day of the week goes according to an unwritten script, and deviations are noted with displeasure. The only enemy to be fought is boredom, the only Resolve Giotto has is to live in such a way that he will be able to tell his family of it with pride.

He is not without hope though. He remembers the magic his parents wielded. It's like nothing he has ever come before, and where his Flames are woefully uncooperative, the magic is not. He feels it humming under his skin, in his blood, and while his current Resolve isn't strong enough to physically manifest his Flames, it suffices to make his magic obey him.

He can't do big things, though he feels himself getting stronger with age and practice. But even the small feats fill him with a deep sense of accomplishment. His Mama had once taken him to the garden and made flowers open and close for him, and the first time he manages to replicate the act he nearly cries with joy.

Mayhap his Flames are lost to him (for the moment), he has this at least.

   The letter comes shortly before his eleventh birthday. Giotto had gotten the post and was rather surprised to find one letter addressed to himself.

Mr. H. Potter The Smallest Bedroom 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey

It's not the first time he has gotten a letter. He gets birthday invitations all the time, and the people he is closer to (never as close as family, nothing like back then, they are not enough) occasionally send him postcards when they are on vacation.

But this letter looks odd.

It looks like a letter from back then. The thick yellowed parchment, the way it was handwritten with emerald green ink of a quality he has yet to see in any store. The purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: A lion, eagle, snake, and badger surrounding the letter H. The way it smells. Giotto inhales deeply, runs a finger over it in wonder.

Perhaps he will finally find answers to his situation in this letter? For who would send him a letter like this, if not one aware of his past?

"Hurry up, boy!" Mr. Dursley hollers. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?"

Giotto sighs. His caretakers' (so called only in the widest sense of the word, he absolutely will not call them guardians) treatment of him may have improved somewhat, but their attitudes yet remain to get better.

He troops inside and sits at the breakfast table - a privilege he had fought long and hard for - after handing Mr. Dursley a postcard from his sister and a brown envelope most likely containing a bill. Absently buttering his toast, he inspects his own letter. There is no postmark on it, no return stamp. It cannot have been sent via the Royal Mail.

"What's that?" Dudley demands more than asks, Harry may have helped his attitude but his cousin is still a spoiled child with a sense of entitlement.

"A letter," he answers patiently. He makes to open it, but a twinge of his Intuition makes him lean out of the way of Petunia Dursley's snatching hand. He frowns at the woman who was his mother's sister once but had lost the right to this title a long time ago.

"Give that to me!" she snaps at him, having failed to grab the letter.

"It's addressed to me," he answers calmly. "Perhaps I will give it to you after I've read what it contains, if I feel that its contents are in fact of any interest to you."

"Boy, give your aunt that letter!"

Giotto's frown deepens. There is fear, no, terror in Mrs. Dursley's eyes as her eyes are fixed on the letter in his hands, the coat of arms on the wax seal. Trepidation stains her husband's voice, and his face has taken on an ashy grey hue.

The moment's distraction costs him. Dudley jerks the letter out of his fingers, and his father bellows an expletive and rips it out of the boy's fingers. "OUT!" he shouts. "Out of this room!"

"Dad!" Dudley shouts.

"Out, I said!"

"Give me back the letter," Giotto replies calmly, not moving an inch.

"You've done enough, you little freak!" Dursley bellows. His wife softly whimpers, eyes still fixed on the letter. "To your cupboard!"

"No," he says resolutely. The letter is far out of his reach, he can't reach it with his small body. Acquiring it by physical means is a last resort.

"You want this letter?" Dursley leans closer, spit sprinkling Giotto's face. Abruptly he turns, ripping the parchment up as he goes. Giotto lunges after him, but it's too late: Mr. Dursley has thrown the shreds into the fireplace. "Go and get it!"

Giotto hasn't felt anger in a long time. Displeasure, disappointment, yes, but never the red-hot anger that comes when he sees a grave injustice being done.

The fire in the fireplace flares. The power under his skin heats.

Vernon Dursley squeaks in terror as the fire spits the scorched parchment into Giotto's hands. He gives the obese pig an unforgiving glare. "I will not forgive you for this, Vernon of the Dursley family," Giotto bites out, and turns sharply on his heel lest he do something he will regret later.

"Well good luck putting that back together, you freakish bastard!" Dursley hollers after him angrily.

Giotto ignores him and makes for his room.

  ███████████HOOL of █████CRAFT and WIZ█████

 Headmaster: AL███████████ORE (Ord███████████, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, S████me Mugwump, ████████ional Confed. of Wizards)

 ███r Mr. Potter,

████re pleased to inform you that you ████████████epted ████ogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please fi███████losed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

█████egins on Septemb███. We await yo████████████████r than July 31.

Yours sincere███

Minerva McG███████ Deputy Headmistr███

 Giotto glares at the letter in frustration. It had taken him the better part of the day to put it back together. It is barely legible, and whole sections of it had been completely burnt out, but not to the point that he was unable to tell what it was about. This was lucky because what he assumed was an enclosed list of materials was entirely illegible.

The letter had absolutely nothing to do with his past and his reincarnation. Instead it was an invitation to a school of magic. It was odd, he'd never asked himself where his parents had learned to use it, but it made sense.

Perhaps under different circumstances he would have been excited about it, but as it is he can't help but be disappointed. He'd been hoping for answers.

And it certainly doesn't help that the important parts of the letter had been destroyed. He can find neither the name of the school nor decipher the names of headmaster and headmistress, and he has no inkling as to how to contact this school. We await, it says in the last sentence, but what they awaited he couldn't tell, and he doubts he would find out until July 31.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley know something, that Giotto is certain of, but he is even more certain that they wouldn't part with the knowledge unless he used violence. But he refuses to. They are civilians.

Where did that leave him? What did it leave him with?

Unable to come up with a satisfactory plan of action (G's absence like a missing limb), he decides to sleep on it.

The sense of relief he feels when the next morning another letter arrives is quite intense. Mr. Dursley gets his hands on it before he can, but it does nothing to deter the bubbling excitement Giotto begins to feel. He still has his intuition after all, and right now it tells him that whoever is sending those letters is not one to give up.

  Giotto prides himself on being kind always.

That doesn't mean he doesn't get a certain measure of amusement out of observing the adult Dursleys panic and squawk like chickens over something so simple as letters. Mr. Dursley has taken to sleeping in the floor right behind the entrance door, he has nailed the letter slot shut (and failed terribly at it, for a man who sells drills he is quite bad at using them). In response, the steadily exponentially growing amount of letters were forced under the door, slotted through the sides, and even through the bathroom window.

It made Mr. Dursley terribly jumpy, and he took to sealing every tiny crack a letter could possibly come through, all while flinching at the tiniest noises. (And Giotto might have been throwing pebbles against objects just to watch the man jump at the sound. Vive la résistance. Lampo would be proud.)

It gets even better. The sender is getting creative. Giotto rather thinks a Mist is behind all of it. The letters are inside of eggs. It's Daemon-level shenanigans, he thinks wistfully.

On Sunday the letters shoot out of the fireplace like bullets, quickly filling up the floor. Mr. Dursley cracked then, mumbling conspiracy theories while tearing at his own moustache. Pity that, the moustache had been the only impressive thing about the man.

Ten minutes later they were all sitting in the car, driving to who knows where. Maybe they are finally going to abandon him, Giotto muses idly. Ah, but Mr. Dursley appears not to be thinking rationally enough to come up with this course of action, and instead books them all into a hotel after a rather clumsy attempt at misdirecting driving and shaking off potential tails.

This, too, proved to be useless. The letters found Giotto even still. At this point, he actually had to put in an effort to act as if he simply could not get his hands on a letter. Perhaps it was mean of him to watch Mr. Dursley fray at the seams, but the man did deserve it, Giotto was still very angry at him. Any of Giotto's Guardians would have expected him to have retaliated by this point. And all in all, this was still fairly harmless. And entertaining, in all his life Giotto hadn't left Little Whinging once since he was placed there, aside from school trips. If the Dursleys went away somewhere, there were a vast selection of neighbours who would be glad to house him for a day or a week.

The letters at the hotel are the last straw, apparently, for Dursley to take drastic actions, in this case he takes them to a decrepit little hut in the middle of the ocean in a rowboat, all while a storm begins to rage. In typical Dursley fashion, Giotto is not given a bed and only the thinnest blanket while Dudley gets four (and Dudley had decided to blame him for the whole thing and thus is not inclined to share).

Giotto doesn't care. This is the closest thing to adventure he's gotten since he remembered who he was. It reminds him of fishing trips he and his guardians used to take for fun, though they usually ended in disaster and shipwreck there was always laughter and happiness. For a birthday, it isn't half bad. Of course, he isn't eleven yet. Just a minute to go...

Someone is outside the hut.

Giotto is on his feet at a moment’s notice, long-resting instincts surging to the forefront of his mind, adrenaline flooding his body. They are in the middle of nowhere, aside from the toothless old man who owns the rowboat, nobody knows where they are.

The letter issue seems suddenly more sinister than amusing. They've tracked him everywhere. G would have had his head for this oversight.

Can Giotto fight magic users? He cannot do much with his own magic yet. His Flames are sealed off. His body is small and barely trained, nothing like what it used to be. Perhaps if he has the element of surprise…

"Dudley, wake up!" Giotto hisses, but his cousin only groans and mumbles something about pork.

BOOM.

Someone knocks on the door. The whole hut shakes. Giotto doesn't sense any malice, but that means nothing. Things like intentions are easy enough to hide, and this guy might just be an assassin carrying out orders without any emotional investment.

Of course, assassins rarely knock on the front doors.

Dudley has jerked awake, mumbling about cannons, and the adult Dursleys have hurried into the room, Mr. Dursley holding a rifle in an awkward and unpractised grip that makes a part of Giotto cringe.

SMASH. The door is knocked off its hinges, and in the doorway stands a giant of a man.

[kuroast]

26 and Kags?

Of course! Here you go, I hope you like it~

I think I’ve been holding back from falling in love with you all over again———————-Kageyama was a man that people knew very little of. He believed that it was for the best; his past had not been the happiest one. He was an immortal roaming through the world for as long as he could remember; it was above all, a lonely way of living. The pain of watching everyone you love grow old and die while you remain untouched by time was enough to make his heart grow cold. But it didn’t.

The man that he has turned into had a heart that refused to obey his orders which is why he tried his best to avoid human contact. It wasn’t as if though he was particularly good with it anyway. At least that’s what he’d tell to himself.

He first began distancing himself from others when he had to watch the woman he loved die before his eyes as he stared helplessly- he fell for quite a sweet talker. When she got old and wrinkly, she was ashamed of how a handsome and young man like him could still look at her and manage to find the goodness within himself to see her as young and beautiful as she was when they first met.

When she figured out that she didn’t have much time, she’d joke about how she can’t wait to die, to reincarnate and finally reunite with him.

He tried to be brave for her, he had tried countlessly many times to hide his tears in front of her.

“We’re soulmates, I don’t care what length my scrawny mortal ass will have to go to, I will do it. We’ll meet again, I promise.”

He honestly didn’t believe in reincarnation but it made you happy. That was all that he cared about.

After she died, he mourned. He mourned for years, decades— he mourned for eternity. But as time passed by, he realized that his beloved was right! She indeed did reincarnate; the reincarnation was strikingly similar to his first and only love in both appearance and personality which left him baffled.

He had immediately approached her and took it upon himself to court her. After years of her being completely absent from his existence, he paid no heed to the fact that all the memories that they had shared in their past life had been completely forgotten. He needed her; he needed her bad.

But oh how painful and terrifying it was to love something that death could touch.

Two heartbreaks were more than enough for him.

He avoided her third lifetime like the plague—he felt that it would be cruel of him to play them both like that. He wasn’t able to give her a family that she had wanted from the very beginning. And he wasn’t able to walk over their past lives as if though they were nothing when they were the only thing keeping him going.

He gave up on love.

But she hasn’t. She’d always find him. And she’d always love him unconditionally.

Which leads us to the year 2017 and this time, her name was (Name) (Last name). She was without a doubt the most persistent reincarnation in existence; only god knows how many times she’d make him want to cry out in frustration. You looked exactly like her and it killed him.

So far, they always looked similar but never the same. Not you, though. You were a splitting image of her and no matter what he tried, he could never get away from you. He was your boss and yet no force alive could make him fire you.

You were both a blessing and a curse.

While your company was lulling him into a sense of security from the get-go, something felt incredibly wrong. It was as if though you tried your best to be subtle about actually remembering him but he refused to believe that.

It was just wishful thinking. And yet it managed to keep him awake for countless nights.

On that rainy day, you entered his office late in the evening when he had thought that everyone left so he made himself comfortable. He brought out the old albums that he had made with your first reincarnation; it was full of your couple pictures.

Let’s just say that he wasn’t expecting you. He let down his guard as he actually fell asleep, leaving those pictures out in the open. When he woke up, he saw you grinning softly at the last picture that he had taken with his first love.

He immediately panicked, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. No matter how hard he tried not to, it was his second nature to love you with the entirety of his being.  Before he had a chance to get to wake properly after waking up, you laughed, “So this is how we’ll look like in 50 years time?”

“No, that’s not us that’s just—“

You raised your brow as you put down the picture, “Spare me, Tobio. I know what you are and I know what I am. I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you this, knowing that not all of my reincarnations remember but I do. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Why have you avoided me this long?”

“I don’t believe you,” he muttered, his voice coming out insecure as he ignored your question.

This was a dream.

He missed you so desperately that he began hallucinating!

“Didn’t I tell you though? We’re soulmates , it’s not like I’ve ever cared about what length my scrawny mortal ass will have to go to, I’ll do it. I did do it. And, if my memory serves me right, I kept my promise. We met again. Over and over again.”

At that point, your palms had cupped his cheeks, your thumbs wiping away the tears staining his face as he clinged onto you. He couldn’t keep the sobs from escaping but all that you could do was rub circles into his back as you tried to assure him that all will be well.

“Kageyama, I believe it’s your turn to answer my question. Why have you been avoiding me this long? Have you grown tired of me?”

“No!” he instantly yelled out in response, ripping himself away from your hug as his muscular arms grabbed you by your shoulders, “I think… I think that I’ve been holding myself back from falling in love with you all over again. I’ve lost you so many times that I don’t think that my heart can handle it.”

It was your turn to feel the weight of the situation.

You were so incredibly selfish; you sought after your own happiness with little to no regard of his own.

You could just imagine how hurt and broken you’d feel if it were the other way around, if you were the one cursed with immortality and had to watch him die over and over again.

“You’re—you’re completely right, I understand. I can’t, I literally can’t believe how selfish I’m being right now,” you shook your head, removing yourself from his grip. You wanted to laugh at the bitter-sweet feeling that had overwhelmed you.

Every reincarnation that you’ve ever been has felt that something was missing, that you were forgetting something—and you felt so superior to them, you knew what that something was. But you were so wrong to be happy about it.

To know what you’re missing, to know that it’s literally standing before you and to know that being together would bring such injustice to him made your heart ache.

“I- I didn’t—you know I didn’t mean it like that, (Name)! I’m just, I’m confused and scared. I wanted to ask you if you could give me some time to think but… I’m weak. I can’t wait. In 50 or so years from now, I might even regret this decision once I feel the full impact of yet another heartbreak, but I want you to be happy. I want us to be as happy as possible.”

Through tear stained eyes you were hesitant on approaching him when he offered you his hand, but as always, he was as impatient as ever. His palm grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, “We’re both doomed to this unending cycle of love and hurt, but I don’t want to be the jackass who’ll say that he was afraid to love.”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply—he knew his words might not have been a perfect conviction but his kiss will definitely be. And he was right, you melted into his touch, entangling your fingers into his hair as you pulled him closer; just like you had wanted from the very beginning.

Kageyama knew that his heart was bound to break, but it was bound to heal as well.

(Name) knew that she was bound to forget, but she was bound to remember as well.

From that moment on, they knew, eternity was theirs to conquer.

[sasusakufestival]

Samsara (Part 2/3)

Summary: Sakura’s words die in her throat as the man’s eyes shoot open, and the coldest red irises she has ever seen meet hers. She is hit by a wave of terrifying certainty about two things right then – that she knows these eyes better than any other and that, if he wanted to, this man could stop her heart with just a look. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 15 – Prompt: “The Biggest Gesture”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be squished by a Susanoo wielding demi god if you are found plagiarizing.

Warning: Spoilersfor pretty much everything up to Naruto Gaiden.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place during the Blank Period.

Fanon-Compliance: Takes place several years before An Inch of Gold and Unplanned.

AN: So, I decided I didn’t feel like waiting to post this. It’s unedited, but I will put up the edited part as soon as is humanly possible. Also, although I had originally planned for this to be a two-part fic, my plot bunnies decided to hit me with a bunch of other plot possibilities. So it’s probably gonna end up three parts. Therefore, if you want to read the continuation, you guys’ll just have to follow on my blog or something once SasuSakuFestival is over. I hope to post the next chapter within the week :P

__________________________________

“Indra.”

Sasuke repeats the name slowly, sounding out the syllables as if the word is completely foreign to him. There is a deceptive calm in his voice, as if he is putting every shred of his considerable concentration into not reacting to Sakura’s tale.

“It’s…it’s not exactly a common name, is it?” she murmurs tentatively, hanging on to that tiny shred of hope that’s taken root since she awoke in a terrified sweat.

“No.”

They regard each other in heavy silence. Neither knows quite what to make of this development.

“Do you…” she begins, then pauses, because the question is utterly ridiculous and there’s no possible way… And yet. “Do you remember any of it?”

She doesn’t know what exactly Sasuke saw or experienced when he interacted with the Sage of Six Paths, whether the transfer of his chakra also meant a transfer of memories. It’s not a time they speak of very often.

“No. Whatever I knew that day disappeared quickly,” Sasuke tells her quietly.

“Oh.” She wraps her arms around herself. “So why am I dreaming this then? If anyone should be dreaming about you – past-you – it should be you. Or Naruto even. Unless –” She peeks up at him. “Maybe it’s my past life?”

“Then why are you only experiencing it now, after everything we’ve seen?” he counters, the calm from earlier giving way to something sharp.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “It does kind of seem like something the Sage of Six Paths should have mentioned when we all met. But what else could it be? It’s like I’m her, Sasuke.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow in contemplation, jaw clenched and she swears she can hear him grinding his teeth. She reaches out – it’s instinctive to want to comfort him, even though she’s the one who woke upset – and places a soothing hand on his shoulder. The other automatically covers her still flat stomach.

Sasuke’s eyes follow the movement, and then snap back to her face.

“The dreams didn’t start until you found out you were pregnant,” he says in a low tone.

“It’s possible,” she allows.

“That’s the connection,” he muses, almost to himself, staring into the distance like he is seeing something she can’t. “He is the ancestor of the Uchiha…you’re carrying the next generation…it has to have something to do with that.”

“You really think so?” Sakura asks. The idea is unsettling.

“Do you have any other explanation?” he replies, almost harsh. The calm from earlier has begun to erode.

“Well, no, but we can’t just jump to conclusions,” she reasons. “Maybe it’s just…maybe every woman in your clan has dreams like this. Or…or maybe only women who are about to give birth to someone of Indra’s bloodline. Or –”

“Or maybe it’s because I’m Indra’s reincarnation that it’s happening,” Sasuke interrupts, running a hand across his face in agitation. His right eye flickers briefly between red and black. “Of course, we’ll never know for sure and there’s no one to ask because –”

“Sasuke, stop,” she cuts him off, taking hold of his hand. She squeezes it, trying to transmit some sense of calm, despite the fact that his obvious panic is frightening her. She has never seen him lose composure like this, and her immediate instinct is to put a stop to it. “It’s not something worth getting worked up about. These are dreams. Dreams that might not even be real, and are probably just my mind shoving together a bunch of information. You know, odd facts I know about you and me and maybe some of the plot from that horrible romance novel I was reading. If it helps, I’ll stop reading it.”

“Sakura –”

“Let’s not worry too much about unwanted commentary from dead people, okay?” She makes a face. “And that is a sentence I never though I would say.

The look Sasuke gives her now is equal parts awed and disbelieving.

“You are taking this remarkably well,” he says, sounding almost accusing.

Sakura tosses her hair. “I told you, didn’t I? The day we met the Sage of Six Paths? Nothing will ever surprise me again.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he says stonily. “Are you sure you don’t know any sleeping draughts you could take? Just to stop the dreams until we know more.”

“Nothing that wouldn’t harm the baby,” she confides. “Relax, darling. I’m sure this is all just a big coincidence. We’re reading too much into it.”

“I’ll have to watch out for you better. Until there’s a way to protect you from this, I need to know everything you see.”

Sakura snorts at this. “Right, and what exactly are you going to do, pry my eyes open when you think I’m having a nightmare and use the…Sharingan…to…Ehhh!” She sees the subtle shift in his expression. “You’re actually th– no! No, no, no! You can’t do that!”

“I wasn’t going to. I was just…considering.”

“Well, considering me breaking your nose!”

“Using the Sharingan that way wouldn’t be possible anyhow.”

“Possible or impossible, that’s never going to happen! You promise me right now, or I’ll put you down so hard, losing an arm will look like a bee sting!”

Sasuke’s skin turns a shade paler, and he nods.

眠り

Sakura might have quelled at least some of Sasuke’s fears, but she isn’t as confident as she pretends. The idea that the fetus inside her is connected to as dark and tragic a past as Indra Ōtsutsuki is worrisome, but at the same time…

She has to admit she’s curious.

That doesn’t stop her being relieved when the dreams inexplicably stop bringing her to the strange beach. Her nightly visions become vague again, bursts of colour and emotion, occasionally faces that are familiar to her but inconsequential. She still experiences the frustrating moments of abuse, attacks from a faceless father and sister; her experiences paralyse her as she sleeps, and leave her irritated upon waking. But overall, there is such a vague and hurried quality to these that she suspects she is experiencing time passing.

This pattern continues long enough that it’s almost a shock when she falls asleep one night and finds herself once more in a completely lucid, detailed dream.

She is sitting uncomfortably at a table in a richly decorated room, and the dim memories Sakura can access suggest that her attendance here is rare, perhaps even only occasionally required. Sitting across from her are two people whose presence not only disheartens her – the small, curious part of her had been hoping to meet Indra again – but also fills her with overwhelming wariness.

 “There’s talk among the court of a newcomer,” Father says as the servants place their meals before them. “A man of great talent, said to be the son of a wise sage from the East. They say he can call lightning from the sky and breathe fire like the dragons of old.”

“It would be useful to have such a man beholden to you,” Older Sister remarks, sounding bored as she picks at her food.

“Yes, it is better to be on the side of a demon than in his path. Should the stories of this man be true, I intend to offer him alliance. I am told he is young and ambitious. Command of my armies should sway his loyalty. Or, perhaps, marriage.”

Older Sister scowls. “Marriage to a foreigner won’t grow the coffers of this land.”

“Maybe not, but talents he is said to be able to teach could,” Father says. “I am confident you’ll do your duty, daughter.” He then suddenly turns and barks, “What’s that look for, Shachi? Have you something to say?”

They are both looking at her now and she realises that she is Shachi.

Her lips part. “If…if…”

“If…if…if…” Older Sister mocks. Sakura inwardly snarls, knowing if she had control of her body right now, she would wipe the floor with the painted doll before her.

 “I-If Older Sister doesn’t wish to marry h-him, I w-would take on th-that duty, F-Father. If it would p-please you.”

He snorts. “Dishonour an important man with a concubine’s spawn instead of the heiress to the land? I intend to court an ally, not lend insult. Keep your ridiculous opinions to yourself. Don’t make me regret my generosity in allowing you to sit at my table.”

“As you wish, Father.” She bows.

“May the gods soon find me a man who can look past your whore of a mother’s legacy and take you off my hands,” he grumbles to himself.

Sakura – Shachi – looks down at her knees, shoulders sinking.

Older Sister sniggers. “Oh, don’t look so downcast. Besides, if the stories of this stranger is true, he attracts many followers. Maybe someone among the riffraff will take an interest in you.”

The two of them laugh, leaving Sakura – Shachi – clenching her fists.

夢

They are at the back of an izakaya, scouring dishes from a busy dinner rush; they don’t have any money tonight, and in exchange for a room they’re helping with hostess out. Sasuke washes, Sakura dries. There has been nothing but companionable silence until she breaks it.

“Can I…can I ask you something?”

“Hm.”

 “It’s about your brother,” she goes on, hesitant, because the topic is a difficult one, and usually provides some cue for him to make an escape. She’s hoping soapy hands make that a little harder this time.

From the tense set of his shoulders, she knows he’s already planning bolt, and she hurriedly continues.

“It’s about your relationship before – before all of it. You never talk about it, and you don’t have to now, I just…I never had an older brother or sister, so I don’t know myself. I was wondering…is it normal for an older sibling to hate the younger one?”

She winces, because it still came out awkwardly, and she bets he’s going to ignore it, because it’s not exactly what she was asking but –

“For a long time, I thought so,” Sasuke answers in a low voice. “But over time, I learned it’s the exception, not the rule.”

She exhales at this. “Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just thinking.”

“Sakura.”

She scowls, because he’s getting a lot better at reading her voice. Or maybe he always could, now he just chooses to react to it.

“It’s something I noticed in my dream –”

“You had another one?” he interrupts sharply, nearly dropping one of the bowls in his hand.

“Yes – and no, I haven’t seen him again, if that’s what you want to know. Don’t you think I’d tell you right away?”

“Hn.”

“Well, I would. I just…haven’t had to say anything lately because nothing happened. I don’t think he’s in the picture right now. But this – the person I am in my dreams – her name is Shachi, I think.” She peeks at him. “Does that sound familiar to you?”

Since their conversation about a possible past life or odd Uchiha-specific pregnancy quirk, she has found it easier to ask him these questions. After all, between the two of them, he’s the only one who has a definite link to whatever it is she’s dreaming.

He closes his eyes, frowning in concentration, then shakes his head. “I feel as if I’ve heard the name before, but it could be from anywhere.”

He’s right, they meet enough new people every day, perhaps it’s a name they’ve encountered in their travels.

“It’s just, her family – or, I guess the people who raised her – they treat her so badly. It’s as if she’s beneath them, and I don’t…I don’t understand how family can do that,” she exclaims, frustrated. “How can someone not protect their younger sibling? How can a parent not love their child? I can’t imagine a world where you look at our baby like he – or she – means nothing.”

“It would never happen.”

He says it so instantly and certainly that she feels a wave of pure joy wash over her, and she offers him a loving smile. “I know that. But in my dream –”

“You said yourself your mind might just be processing things,” Sasuke continues. “You’ve mentioned feeling weak, held back. It’s possible that you’re drawing on experiences you’ve actually lived and your brain is interpreting them in the simplest way.”

Sakura shoots him a suspicious look. “You’ve been reading my medical scrolls, haven’t you? The psychology ones?”

“They offer the most logical explanation to all this.”

She sighs. “Darling, you can’t search for clues based on the answer you want.”

“It’s not what I want. It’s what it could be. And all of this could simply be a quirk of your dreams.”

They work in silence for a spell.

“You don’t really think it is, do you?” she asks eventually.

A pause.

“No.”

“So, if it is something that happened, why do you think she’s treated so badly?”

“Back then, people saw children differently. A means to an end, a legacy.”

“And what’s our child?”

Sasuke holds her gaze, no trace of doubt there, and simply says, “Hope.”

眠り

For some reason, after this conversation, the tone of her dreams changes. Her awareness of being in a dream fades faster. Memories of an entire life crowd out her identity during waking hours, and so when the stranger arrives in their land, her first reaction – Shachi’s first reaction – is of surprise.

Even though she shouldn’t be. Because there aren’t many men who can control lightning, after all, and there is such a commanding air about him that the idea of him as the leader her father spoke of is not impossible.

The day he steps foot in her father’s court is grey and overcast, inauspicious in it’s normalcy, and yet her body – both in her dream and her present self – feels taut with awareness. He arrives quietly, with little pomp, into Father’s audience chamber. If he notices her sitting on the dais by her sister’s feet, he gives no indication, his every attention focussed on the lord of the land.

He says very little, and yet before the audience is over, everyone knows who he is: Lord Indra of the Eastern Lands, a master in the secret arts. He is well-spoken and a warrior by bearing and – based on Older Sister’s expression upon seeing him for the first time – an acceptable possible match.

He seeks followers, those he will impart with teachings, and who he intends to make stronger, asks only for the freedom to recruit whoever he wants.

“My methods are difficult,” he warns quietly, “and only those willing to lay down their lives in dedication will succeed. In exchange, I will instruct the soldiers in your armies as well.”

Father is beside himself – this is exactly what he wanted, after all – and the accord is soon settled. He celebrates by throwing a lavish banquet in Lord Indra’s honour, despite the obvious fact that the young man has no use for the gesture. He appears restless and impatient, as if he wishes to get started on his mission as soon as possible.

Sakura – Shachi? – watches him with wide eyes, thinking on the helpless man she nursed back to health, the one who could have killed her but didn’t. As frightened as she is by him, she can’t fight down her interest.

He notices her watching him and looks up, holding her gaze. Her entire body tenses, and she feels as if she’s looking into the eyes of a snake moments before it strikes. She can’t look away until he does, and once free, her entire body shivers. Her breath comes in sharp bursts and she wonders if, perhaps, he hasn’t used some of his strange power on her.

夢

“It sounds like genjutsu,” Sasuke as he sets up a wire-trap.

“I don’t think so,” Sakura muses, leaning against a nearby tree. “He wouldn’t need to use that on her. She’s too afraid. Too docile. You only use genjutsu on someone if you expect resistance.”

She and Sasuke exchange a tense look, both of them acknowledging a bitter shared memory.

Sasuke grunts and hops down from the tree.

“When we’re done here, we’re heading to that temple we passed. Maybe there will be someone there who can explain why you’re seeing this.”

“We might as well stop at a hospital too and have me speak to a bunch of therapists,” she deadpans. “I don’t think anyone is going to have answers on this one.”

Sasuke scowls. “So, your strategy is to wait and see?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t accept that.”

“Well, tough. While I’m incubating the tiny human, I make the rules. And as of right now, I’m not in any actual medical danger, and other than being annoying and sometimes confusing, what I see when I’m asleep isn’t affecting my health in any way.”

“Yet.”

This time it’s Sakura who scowls. “Need I remind you of your history of overreacting?”

Which Sasuke can’t exactly argue with, and so he settles on beleaguered silence while they set up the remainder of the traps.

She sighs to herself and wonders if there’s a point to keeping him updating about her dreams if he’s just going to get so upset about them. And she definitely doesn’t want to admit to him that the longer these dreams continue, and the more often she has them, the more she feels as if she’s living a completely different life.

“Sasuke…I know there’s no way to be one-hundred percent sure about all of this, but…would it be so bad?” He stares at her, askance. “If this actually was my past life. It would just mean that I’ve care for you longer than be both thought.”

“You know it would mean more than that. You know that it’s a story that doesn’t end happily.”

“We don’t know if that’s completely true.”

“He broke everything he touched,” her husband says darkly. “He had everything, and just…” He cuts off, making a disgusted sound. “Because of him, my family… because of him I did the same. Might still do the same. What if this is a reminder, a warning, that I’m going to break this too?”

The question is so soft, so distressingly uncertain that for a moment Sakura doesn’t have an answer.

Sasuke very rarely shows any type of vulnerability, and to this day she is certain she is the only one alive who has ever seen that part of him. What makes this particular display so heartbreaking is that she knows he isn’t even asking it for his own sake, but for their child’s.

Tears fill her eyes, but she holds them back. Crying right now will do nothing to help him; she swore long ago that when he was struggling, she would support him. And if that means shrugging off her puzzling dreams, so be it.

“I never thought you were the superstitious type,” she says, trying to break the tensions with levity.

Sasuke scowls. “It’s hard not to be when your past life decides to haunt your wife’s dreams.”

She smiles. The fact that he sounds so waspish is a good sign.

“Come here,” she says, and without giving him opportunity to resist, she presses his hand above her womb. “Listen to me: you are not going to break this.” He opens his mouth, and she drowns him out. “No – listen. You are not going to break this. I don’t break easy, and you can summon a giant chakra monster to protect yourself. This child? Half you, half me. Definitely not breakable.”

He still doesn’t look entirely reassured, but the tense set to his shoulders fades somewhat.

眠り

Lord Indra becomes a guest in their kingdom, permitted to walk among the people and seek students. He accepts any who come to him, man or woman, and weeds out the weak. Many of them die – strangely enough, it’s usually the soldiers that Father sends who are unable to succeed – and yet still more continue to seek him out.

He is the only one who knows this strange, magical teaching. He calls it ninshu, yet when he says it there is a sneer in his voice, as the very name offends him.

She finds this odd, but Father doesn’t care. As he sees it, his kingdom will soon grow to rule over all the rest, if only he can convince Lord Indra to remain here instead of moving on. Older Sister preens and poses, trying to entice a smile from the sullen faced stranger, and taking it out on Shachi when he doesn’t.

No…I’m…Sakura?

That name seems so distant to her when she is here, when she is Shachi. Though she knows this is but a dream, she feels tethered to it as much as if it were real.

She watches Lord Indra from the sidelines. Although drawn to him, longing for him to acknowledge her again, or at least thank her for saving his life, she feels safer in the shadows. Sometimes, he is apparently alone, training or meditating by himself, and yet when she makes a move to approach him, she imagines she hears someone speaking to him. Whenever this happens, she hurries away. After all, their last encounter up-close is fresh in her mind, and as compelled as she is to seek him out, she is also afraid of him.

And so she keeps away, watching his training sessions from the protection of the forest.

Sometimes she is caught, receiving a reprimand or a beating from her father, but these days both are more an afterthought; Father only cares about her whereabouts when someone reminds him, and Older Sister, only if she notices her. For the most part, she is free to watch the stranger as she wishes.

Lord Indra teaches with brutal efficiency. He never raises his voice above a murmur, yet retains perfect control over his students. He can make a simple nod feel as if he has fallen to his knees in praise, and a derisive glare make a man want to fall on his sword to avoid dishonour.

Several do.

Only once he is satisfied with their ability to maintain discipline and control does he teach them the new abilities. Shachi watches as men learn to bend water in their hands, or call up mounds of earth like fangs from the ground. Some command the wind and others turn blades of grass into needles. With a flash of his red eyes he instructs them all, precise instructions, having them repeat them over and over, making motions with his hands as he does.

She mouths along his words, trying to capture the sound of his voice in her mind. When he speaks normally – not threatening her life as he did that day on the beach – his voice is pleasant, inviting. Despite the danger he represents, he makes her feel safe, and that is something she isn’t used to feeling.

From her place in the shadows, she makes the hand gestures as well, arranging her fingers until she can do it perfectly. Soon she does it without noticing, can allow herself to just listen to the sound of his voice as he instructs. One day, his words seem closer to her than usual, even though he is so far away, and she closes her eyes, imagines that he is watching her, not his students, is telling her –

You build up chakra, stop it once it collects between the mouth and the chest area. Once you have enough, you release it all at once.

She inhales deeply, focussing on the warmth in her chest, and then breathes out.

To her absolute shock and horror, flames spew from between her lips and incinerate the tree in front of her.

She stumbles backward in shock and fear, unable to believe what just happened. She takes a split second to look around, to see if anyone saw her, and then takes off at a run, pulling her cumbersome skirts to her knees and stumbling back through the forest.

In the distance, she hears people calling out, confused shouting, demands for water. Commotion as students try to put out the flames with buckets, or with their new chakra wielding talents, she isn’t sure, because she keeps on running –

Only to find her way blocked by Lord Indra.

His eyes blaze at her and she recoils, dropping to her knees and bowing her forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to – I didn’t even realise I was – please don’t tell me father, I – I’ll never do it again –”

“How long did it take you?” he interrupts.

She blinks at that, chancing a glance up at him. “M-my lord?”

“You have been watching for weeks but you have never attempted anything before,” he informs her, earnings a small squeak of surprise. “Today you tried. How long did it take you.”

“I-I… not long. I just… I listened to what you said, and I tried it.”

 “Hm.”

He gives her an inscrutable look, like he’s considering something he hadn’t before, and she bows her head again. “I didn’t meant to hurt anyone or cause trouble.”

She is aware of the sound of feet near her ear, and when she looks up he has begun to walk away, back to the training grounds. She isn’t sure if she imagines it or not when he mutter, “Next time don’t stand next to a tree.”

夢

“You forgot again, didn’t you?”

Sakura scowls at the gash in Sasuke’s leg, the product of a stray flail and misguided intentions. The villagers in this part of the country are so wary of strangers, they attacked before letting Sakura explain herself. Sasuke, of course, instinctively pushed her out of the way, but ended up with another limb nearly being severed.

“Forgot what?” he grumbles, observing as her fingers glow green over the skin there.

“That you don’t have to protect me,” she chides him. “Even if I didn’t have a basic capacity to dodge, a flail isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Maybe not, but as far as I know, your regenerative abilities don’t apply to the baby,” he reminds her. “You’re not as invincible as you’re used to being.”

Sakura blinks at this, surprise waylaying the retort on her lips.

He’s right.

For a minute, she did forget.

It’s all so new – the changes in her body, the adjustments she’s had to make. No more chakra suppressors, she can’t drink coffee anymore, she’s tired more often – it sometimes feel so disconnected to her. Some days she is completely aware of the new life within her, unable to stop thinking about it, and other days, when everything gets so busy and confusing – like today – she forgets. Even looking in the mirror is deceptive – she doesn’t look pregnant at all, even with her clothes off.

There is movement to the left, and she glances up as two young girls carry in buckets of water; she smiles at them gratefully, earning half-awed, half-shy expressions in return, and then they hurry off.

The villagers backed off when she sent a crushing blow to the ground, forcing them to retreat if they didn’t want to fall into the broken earth. Upon watching her lean down to heal him before he bled out, they finally realised that she was a healer and spent the rest of the evening apologising profusely. They even insisted on putting her and Sasuke up for as long as they wanted to stay, hence the small apartment where they are currently staying.

They even carried Sasuke back here on a litter so she could preserve her healing abilities. He nearly threw a fit at that (he still hates appearing weak in any way) but the people felt so terribly about it, Sakura insisted they go along with it.

Somewhat out of deference to this, she decides to relent a bit.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, checking the progression of closing skin. “I’ll try to be more careful in the future.”

“Hm.”

“I’m just not used to hanging back. It’s been a while since I had to stay out of the direct line of danger.”

“I know.”

He finally relaxes, however, allowing his eyes to close and breath to even out. As if he didn’t expect her to take it easy until she said the words.

Ridiculous man…

She shakes her head, considering the calm picture he provides. It reminds her of those first few dreams she had, of healing Indra on that beach.

Sasuke’s former incarnation is starkly different than he is, she realises that now. He watched her – watched Shachi – with the distrustful gaze of someone who expected her to be incompetent or treacherous. Sasuke’s attention is intent, but in a different sense – watchful and wary for the sake of he health, not his.

As if being pregnant made her breakable.

She’s forgotten what it’s like to need to be protected. It makes her nightly sojourns in the life and mind of Shachi all the more confusing.

The other woman is such a stark contrast from her. Docile, obedient, hesitant – all of these are qualities she either never possessed or grew out of in her early childhood. Their very nature is utterly opposite.

In fact, even their ability to use chakra is completely different, judging from the way they learned to use it. Shachi’s first act was so powerful, charged enough to destroy an entire tree. Sakura remembers the first time she used ninjutsu, she had to try her hardest just to manage a passable substitution.

And that’s another thing. It’s not just their different temperaments. Why does Sakura have an affinity for water, when Shachi is clearly more suited to fire? Isn’t that the type of thing that should carry over?

“Not necessarily.”

Sakura jumps, realising suddenly that she has been musing out loud the hold time. Sasuke is frowning at her thoughtfully.

“The goal of reincarnation is to be reborn as a better self. Perhaps it means stronger, as well. Water is superior to fire.”

“Oh.”

“I take it you’re dreaming of him again then?” he asks, voice entirely too casual.

Sakura looks away, caught out. She’s been trying to avoid bringing it up because she knows it upsets him. “Only recently. Only last night, really. It’s a little confusing, so I didn’t say anything until I could get my thoughts in order.”

“I’m not going anywhere for the next little while,” he reminds her, nodding to his leg. It’s completely healed by now, and she shoots him an amused look. He raises an eyebrow, as if challenging her to call him on it. “Tell me what you dreamed.”

“As long as you don’t get upset every time I talk about Indra.”

His jaw clenches but he nods. “Fine.”

眠り

Eventually Father grows tired of Lord Indra skirting the issue. He wants to ensure everlasting loyalty, wants someone who will train and preside over his army in perpetuity.

In front of the whole court, he offers a permanent, eternal bond between them.

“My daughter, Shibasuri,” he declares proudly, gesturing to Older Sister. “She will make a fine wife, and through her, your children will be the heirs of my land.”

Every other man in the court seethes at this, because Lord Indra may be strong, but he is a foreigner. And more than a few covet Older Sister for themselves.

But the solemn stranger shows no interest in either offering.

“I have no interest in possessing this land,” he says quietly, his words easily audible in the stunned silence. “And I have no need of a woman who revels in her looks and is ignorant to the world. A creature whose body is starved to uselessness in pursuit of fashion, who will never be fatted with child.”

Older Sister makes a noise born of incandescent fury, and Father turns scarlet in anger.

“You dare – !”

But Lord Indra has turned away from both, and instead his gaze falls upon the crowd.

Upon her as she stand with her guardians.

“I will take this one instead,” he declares imperiously. “On that condition I will remain here.”

She gasps, because this makes no sense. He has never, ever given any indication of seeing her, let alone –

“Shachi?” Father inquires, confusion dampening his anger. “Why would you…? She is of lower status, not of any importance – ”

“I will hear her answer,” Indra interrupts. “And if she has no wish for wedlock, I will take my leave with any disciple that will follow.”

There’s a stunned silence then, a dangerous note of expectation in this, and then the whispering begins. Already the members of the court are wagging their tongues, expressing surprise and glee at this turn of events. They imagine blackmail, a play for power from a younger daughter, a secret love –

It is none of these things. From her weeks observing him, she knows that Lord Indra has his own mind, his own plans that he follows. If he prefers her over her beautiful older sister, there is a reason, and not one as basic and superfluous as caring for her.

Older Sister glowers at her, as if Shachi has indeed done something to organise all of this, and Father frowns at her with a look in his eye that promises a lifetime of broken bones if she doesn’t accept.

He needn’t bother, because she knew the instant that Lord Indra spoke, what her answer was going to be.

Even so, it feels as if she is signing the death warrant of her fate when she whispers, “I accept.”

夢

Sakura stretches a hand over her head, making a high-pitched, purring noise at the back of her throat, and then relaxes once more, head pillowed on Sasuke’s blanket-clad inner thigh. They lie head-to-foot, naked and sated, the smell of sex still lingering in the air.

Sasuke is on his side, his face pressed against one side of her abdomen, his hand curved around the other. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is pulled into a not-quite-smile of tranquility. It’s far too early for any kind of kicking to be felt – for anything to be heard – but it doesn’t seem to matter to Sasuke. Sakura’s own smile is gentle as she reaches forward, brushing his hair back from his face. He cracks his right eye open and there’s that brief look – soft, content and happy – and then he closes it again.

It’s a look that’s reserved only for her and, she knows, their future child, and which encompasses everything. Even though he rarely says it – only when she has him reduced to panting, overwhelmed gasps as she did minutes earlier – she feels the unquestionable love he has for her. Seeing it fills her with warmth from the inside, because it’s something she never truly believed she would experience.

It makes her feel guilty for asking him, once, if the only reason he wanted to be with her was to repopulate his clan. Sasuke was, by then, a changed man.

Such a difference from the man in her dreams.

She wonders about him. His temperament, his motives, his relationship with Shachi…

“Why do you think he chose her?”

“Hm?” Sasuke’s voice is low and rough from sleep.

“Indra,” Sakura clarifies dimly, gazing up at the wooden ceiling. “He washes up in this strange land, tries to kill her, disappears, then comes back. And her father offers him practically the world, anything a guy back then would want, and he throws it back in his face over Shachi. A girl he barely even spoke a hundred words to.” She shakes her head in confusion. “That’s something a person does for the one they love, but I don’t…do you think he was even capable of it at that point?”

“Capable of?”

“Love.”

Sasuke is silent for a long moment, leaving her wondering if he intends to answer the question. Then he says, “I don’t think it was possible in the way you understand it.”

“Meaning?”

“After being betrayed – or rather, after deciding he had been betrayed – by Hagoromo and Ashura, he would have been more guarded than ever. He wouldn’t have been capable of feeling for her what…” He trails off here, his voice becoming more quiet, more furtive, “For what I feel for you.”

She doesn’t acknowledge the admission beyond a soft smile – he gets defensive and grumpy if she makes a big deal out of moments like this.

Instead, she returns to the topic. “So why choose her?”

“She did help him. He may have seen it as repaying a debt.”

“But he also said she reminded him of being weak. And she was weak. Wouldn’t the likelier choice have been the older sister? The one with status?”

“A man like him would chose a bride more suited to his purposes. You told me she had the ability to use chakra – which she learned just by observing his teachings,” Sasuke points out. “To members of my clan, Shachi would be the more sought-after candidate.”

Sakura considers this, and then nods. “That make sense.”

“I don’t believe it was the whole reason though.”

She shoots him a confused look.

“He might have seen her as a parallel of himself,” Sasuke continues, thoughtful. “A child mistreated by family. In his view, he was betrayed by his; this girl, she’s the scapegoat of her own kin – and for an utterly underserved reason, based on what you’ve told me.”

“But in that case, wouldn’t it make more sense to kill her family? Why agree to a marriage with her? An actual link to these people?”

“I have no doubt he had some kind of long-term motive. However…I suspect it may have been different than anything he actively planned.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s entirely possible, she provided him with something he didn’t even realise he was missing,” Sasuke tells her, staring off into the distance. “As far gone as he was, he needed something to ground him. When Indra first awakened his abilities, he was strong because he was protecting someone precious. His brother. And he remained strong, even as he became more drawn to the darkness, because he always thought he had the support of his father and brother. When that was gone – when Hagoromo named Ashura as his successor – for the first time in his life, he was truly alone. When you have as much power as he did, and as much hatred, you need something to justify your actions – some goal that makes everything else you do worthwhile.”

She knows now that he is speaking of himself, and not Indra. Of how his love for his brother drove him to commit horrible acts.

“Then he meets this girl, and she’s obviously drawn to him, and she helps him,” Sakura suggests. “And he keeps seeing her, and he knows she’s in a bad situation, so he starts to feel what it’s like to have someone trust in him again.”

It sounds far too plausible, and Sakura shivers. She doesn’t like the idea of Indra using Shachi’s misfortune for himself, but at the same time, she knows that the other woman – this shrinking violet – would see it as an opportunity to escape. In a way, the two are saving each other, even if they don’t know it.

“Hm.” Sasuke nods here. “She is someone who will be utterly loyal to him – both because of who she is as a person, and because as a wife, it is her duty to be subservient to his will.”

Sakura lifts her head and shoots him a sardonic smirk. “Oh, so I have to be subservient to you now?”

“…I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.”

“Damn right,” she nods, falling back, and then squeaks indignantly when he tweaks her left nipple in retribution. She slaps his hand away and then jabs a finger in his general direction. “Don’t start something if you don’t intend to follow through.”

Sasuke snorts. “Who said I didn’t intend to follow through?”

眠り

The wedding approaches, and for the first time in her entire life, Shachi finds herself treated according to her station.

She is bathed in scented waters and anointed with rich oils, adorned in silks and jewels, and fed the finest foods that her servants tease will ensure she bears healthy children.

Older Sister lingers resentfully in the background, while father busies himself with the preparations. Whatever he felt for her in the past, whatever he feels for her now, his greed for the power Lord Indra can provide has increased tenfold since seeing what the young man can do. He pretends like he has never resented her, calls her his “beloved child” and introduces her to visiting dignitaries.

The wedding is meant to be lavish, a way of showcasing Father’s current wealth, and offer hint of what it might become. In this, he is able to stand up to Lord Indra’s more frugal nature. For his part, the prospective bridegroom is nowhere to be found and makes no effort to involve himself in the affair; he continues to train in the courtyards up until the day of the ceremony.

That morning, she is woken at dawn and bathed. Her handmaidens draw long black ribbons of henna across her forehead and face, crisscrossing around her neck and again above her breasts, winding down her arms and legs as if she has been encircled by a snake. Her hair is braided with freshly picked cherry blossoms, and golden rings are fitted around her wrists, neck, fingers and even one through her nose. It all feels heavy and cumbersome but she knows better than to complain. The bridal gown is of red silk, the only garment she has ever worn that was not one of her sister’s castoffs, and the final touch is a purple, rhombus-shaped jewel set in the centre of her forehead.

Father walks her down the aisle at a quick pace, as if worried that the longer he takes, the sooner his future son-in-law may change his mind. Older Sister holds her veil for her, and as she goes to sit at her place, sneers quietly, “Do not think your life will be without hardship.”

Lord Indra stands at the front of the assembled guests, bored and irritated, and he doesn’t even acknowledge her when she is beside him. The high priest begins the ceremony, raising the sacred marriage cup before them, his words washing over her.

Shachi’s mind is strangely blank at this, either from disbelief or fear for the future, and Sakura feels more present in the moment than she has in months. The marriage ritual is very different from any she has ever seen, from her own wedding to Sasuke, and while she is uneasy about the circumstances, she can’t help being fascinated.

The priest places a smooth, obsidian rock – taken from the sacred river of their land – and wishes them an enduring and lasting union. He pours wine and honey as well, wishing fertility and health, and then takes their hands, lightly pricking their palms over the rim of the cup, to signify the mingling of their blood now and in the future. Then, he passes it first to Lord Indra, who will be master of the union.

Her bridegroom takes a tip – barely wets his lips – and passes it back. His expression never changes, and he still doesn’t look at her.

Then the cup is in front of her face, the priest reminds her of her duties as wife now. She begins to lift the cup to her lips as well –

Lord Indra chokes suddenly, and doubles over.

There is stunned silence all around, the high priest stares in wide-eyed horror, and there are gasps from the other guest.

“My lord?” she whispers, reaching for him. “Are you…?”

His eyes snap toward her, flickering red and black and she gasps. But it isn’t the Sharingan that have her shocked. Instead, she rapidly takes in the sight of his features – pupils dilated, mouth slackening, a bluish tint around his lips.

“Poison!” she cries, because she can’t do anything else here. “He’s been poisoned!” Her head whips around, looking for someone who might help. “Fetch a healer!”

Father appears shell-shocked, slow to realise what is happening, and Older Sister –

She stands to one side, smirking and with a look in her eyes that is all-too-knowing.

“You…” Sakura – Shachi? – realises. “Why would you – ?”

Indra begins to convulse, and the answer never comes. Instead, she falls to her knees, trying to hold his flailing arms as he convulses. Shachi is terrified, that fear returning her to full control, pushing Sakura’s awareness down again, but she refuses to allow this.

You can stay out of this right now, or he’s going to die!

She focusses her attention – sees the cup dropped by the priest, liquid spilling out. The sacred rock as rolled a few inches away as well, leaving a strange, chalky residue.

So that’s what it was. Poison in the marriage cup.  Indra wasn’t the only intended victim.

Her mind flips through a mental catalogue of poisons, all while calculating the amount of time it will take before he dies. Given how fast he reacted, the chalky nature, the blue veins on the mouth

“Ainu,” she determines. It’s a relative of aconite, albeit much more potent. There isn’t much out there that can save him, and in the limited time she has, she doubt’s she’ll be able to find –

Then she freezes, remembering herself.

No way. No way could it be that much of a coincidence.

Her hands fly to her hair, tugging out the delicate blossoms there. Cherry blossoms have some healing properties, but aren’t used very often in antidotes –

Except in cases of ainu poisoning.

She doesn’t pause to dwell on the improbability of it all. Instead, she begins to crush up the petals – in her fingers at first, then an idea occurs to her and she puts them in her mouth, chewing them into a pulp and leaning forward to press her lips against his. As she pushes the petal paste into his mouth, she wills her chakra into him as well, calling up every bit of her concentration to do so. She visualises her energy moving into him, chasing the poison through his veins and overtaking it.

She doesn’t find out if she succeeds or not, because that’s when she suddenly loses her control. All of her concentration, all of her focus in helping him, recoils like an elastic band. She is once more, no more than a passenger, and Indra gives one last violent tremor, and then goes still.

Someone emits of a moan of grief.

It takes a stunned second for Sakura to realise the sound came from her. To understand that her dream self is weeping, throwing herself over Indra’s chest. This man, who she saved, who in demanding her hand offered her a future away from the abuses of her blood kin, and now he has left her before there was even a chance.

Tears streaming from her eyes, she looks up as Father demands of Older Sister, “What were you thinking? You’ve ruined it all!”

“I have done nothing but save you from a charlatan,” she replies airily. “He had no interest in becoming your right hand, Father, he would have taken his students and left you with ease. And if he truly intended to honour your wishes, he would have accepted the bride you offered, not that.” She tosses her hair. “Now, we have men who have sworn oaths of loyalty to you, who know of his teachings, and they won’t tempted to disappear with their wandering master.”

Father’s expression becomes thoughtful at this, and he nods slowly.

“Besides,” Older Sister goes on, a cruel set to her mouth. “He gave me insult, in public, and that is something that cannot be abided. How dare – ”

But her words are quickly and brutally cut short.

A bolt of lightning rips through the ceremonial hall, through her shoulder and out her heart, leaving a bloodied and black hole in its place. Shachi screams in horror, staring at the shocked expression on Older Sisters face as her body crumples to the ground. Father’s bellow of surprise turns to terror, and she understands why, because Indra is alive.

He shrugs her off and stands, moving like the lightening that just passed through her sister’s body, and grabbing Father by the throat.

“Those who break oaths are scum. Those who betray their own blood are worse than scum,” he growls. “And that cup was meant for her as much as it was for me.” It’s the only warning he gives before twisting his fingers, snapping the man’s neck. “A man who makes a move against me makes a proclamation that he is my enemy. And I will not allow my enemies to live and take a second opportunity to weaken men.”

Eyes still blazing red fire, he turns to the stunned guests.

“Your lord is dead. Either rise up and avenge him, or flee. One of those choices will lead to a swift death, so choice wisely.”

As he takes a few steps down the procession toward the door, there is a flurry of movement. Guests and members of the court scatter, tripping over each other in their finery. She is left on her knees, gaping at his back, unsure what just happened.

Then, as he did before, he turn to face her once more.

“You have saved my life twice,” he tells her coolly. “And so I will offer you a choice. An opportunity. Save yourself. Forget this farce of a ceremony and ties you agreed to for their sake. Leave this place and seek a happier future, with a man who will offer you the respect and fondness you desire. Or –” his eyes darken back to black here, “come with.”

Her mouth parts in surprise at this.

“If you do, know that from this moment, you will be completely mine. And I am not a patient man. I am neither gentle nor kind, and your life will be one of duty. You will bring forth children to whom I can pass on my legacy. So long as you are loyal and obedient, I can make you a goddess by my side, but if you falter I will make their deaths look enviable.”

Terror and confusion make it hard to understand what he is saying to her. For several seconds, she can only stare from his intent face down to the corpses of her father and sister, turning over his words in her head.

And then it makes sense.

He is giving her a choice.

She has never, in her entire life, known what it is to make a decision that is not based on the will or needs of another. For the first time, she is free. She gets to decide what her destiny will be.

The gesture brings tears to her eyes, because she knows he is not a man who operates in choice. There is his will and death, but here he is, offering her the chance to leave that behind. And with the same certainty that he could stand against any of her father’s vassals who would challenge him, she knows he would let her walk away to a better life if she chose.

She wonders, as she takes his hand, if he realises how terrifyingly easy it is to make her decision.

__________________________________

つづく

To be continued in another prompt :)

I hope you enjoyed the story! As part of the SasuSakuFestival, please go to the ssfest page and vote, like and/or reblog, it would be majorly appreciated!

クリ

[lastbuckshot]

To Be Loved

another fic about zee and aaron if you don’t know who they are then they’re simply to sexy for you keep scrolling (jk)

Words: 1k Fandom: the me fandom Rating: Mature Title: To Be Loved

           She loved it.

           Every touch. Every gentle caress. Every hungry breath against her skin. She loved feeling the weight of his body each time he pinned her wrists to the bed, and loved it again each time he stopped to tell her he loved her.

           In the middle of the night, under a bright full moon whose radiant light filtered through the window and onto white bedsheets, she loved knowing what it felt like to be worshipped.

           His tongue left trails every place that it explored; her stomach, her belly button, the insides of her thighs, the outline of her collarbone. He kissed her sweetly to show his admiration, deeply to show his devotion, and roughly to remind her to whom she belonged.

           He always joked that he was a better lover under the full moon. “It’s way too cliché,” he’d say. “A mysterious werewolf lover once a month, under the moon.”

           Yet he knew it to be true, having heard it from her own lips, that she’d never made love to another person the way she made love to him. He was one of a kind. With or without the moon.

           Still, there was something intoxicating in laying her eyes on her lover’s moonlit back, looking up into his glowing eyes, catching glimpses of his bladelike fangs. It was exciting being so close to something so powerful; so intimate with someone who was, so literally, a beast.

           Her beast.

           As she laid back, her head buried into the memory foam pillows they’d bought together earlier that afternoon (the supermarket was an intimate a place as any), she felt his teeth pull at the fabric of her white lace panties. His teeth released, leaving the elastic to snap back against her deep brown skin, bathed blue in the moonlight. She closed her eyes, waiting anxiously for him to make her his. She felt the pressure of his body crawling upwards, his breath drawing nearer in the silence of their abode, until his head hovered over her cheek. He gently brushed her dark curls aside to kiss her cheek.

           “How do you want it tonight, baby?”

           Zee slowly opened her eyes, matching Aaron’s gaze. His eyes weren’t glowing, but there was still an unmistakable shine in his natural hazel that sent butterflies fluttering happily in her stomach.

           “Tonight’s your night,” she answered. “Take me however you want me.”

           Aaron smiled, stroking her cheek with his finger, and dragging his fingertip along the outline of her jaw.

           “Then it’s your lucky night,” he said. “Because what I want tonight is to do things however you want me to.”

“Can I blow you?”

“Except for that.”

“If I give bad head, you can just tell me. I’ll find a new technique. And name it. Maybe you’d prefer a One-Hand Pump and Shuffle. Or the Two-Hand Gag-and-Twist.”

Aaron laughed heartily, cupping Zee’s hand in his own before bringing it to his lips to kiss.

“You give head like I’ve never gotten head before,” he said. “I’m just feelin’ like more of a giver tonight. I wanna do all the work for you.”

Zee tilted her head curiously.

“Are you sure I don’t give bad head? I know our mouth-size-to-dick-size ratio is a little off.”

“You’re fine, baby,” he cooed. “You give shockingly good head for an ant.”

She got significant satisfaction from squeezing his nipple between her fingers and twisting. A one-handed twist. New technique.

After a quick shriek of shock and pain from her wolf beloved, the two laughed at each other quietly but hysterically, Aaron’s face buried into the crook of his fiancee’s neck. Zee wiped away a stray tear that had fallen from the strain of her full-body laughter, covering her mouth as if to trap her roaring laughs in her throat, not allowing them to escape. At the same time, Aaron lifted his head and wiped the wetness of his happy tears from his own face, cherry red, but fading slowly back into its beautiful, glowing tan.

“God, I love you.”

As the words left his mouth like a sacred prayer, Zee tucked his hair away from his face and behind his ear. She cupped his head in her hands, stroking his cheek with her thumb, gazing up into the deep hazel of his eyes. He loved her like no man or woman had loved her before him, and she could feel it in the way he gazed at her. He was a shrine to which he prayed every morning and night; his holy space, his peace of mind, his religion, his comfort, his universe. He loved her more than his words could ever express, but he never had to articulate his love; she knew. Because she loved him the same.

She kissed him then. A slow, deep, soul-searching kissed that lasted for eternities. If there were a such thing as reincarnation, she knew they’d known each other from the start. Why else would her soul ache for him so wholly and completely? Who else to make you feel like such a complete version of yourself than a soulmate?

She pulled her lips away from the kiss, her nose lingering against his. She opened her eyes slowly to see that Aaron’s eyes were still closed, frozen in a moment he didn’t ever want to end.

“Look at me.”

Aaron’s eyes parted open, gazing upon his wife, her red stained lips, her dark, blue-tinted skin bathed in moonlight. He stayed silent as she spoke, both of her hands now caressing his head as he laid on top of her.

“I love you,” she said. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in this life. You make me so fucking happy, and after everything I’ve been through, I can’t even begin to thank you for that. You’re like my knight in shining wolf armor. And I will never stop loving you, Gio.”

In that moment, and for just a moment, they both felt as if they may break down into an ugly, grateful weep. But no sooner than the words left her mouth, Zee adjusted her head on her pillow, wrapping her legs around her lover’s waist and pulling him closer.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” she joked, “Hurry up and fuck the shit out of me.”

[axiom-of-man-blog]

Chapter one:Year 44 DE (Dawn of Eminence)

A man said to the universe: “Sir, I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.” -Stephen Crane

I wake up to her standing over me in my bed, pale, eyes glazed over, her hair a mess and her night gown clung to her sweaty body.  She’s ghastly pale, heavy bags under her eyes. She is gaunt. “Icarus.. I.. I need to be buried..” she says at almost a whisper                I rub my eyes as I start to rise out of bed. I can hear the birds chirping outside my window. Blades of light came in, slicing up my room.  In the morning cheer, a walking corpse seemed out of place. She puts her cold, clammy hand on my shoulder; she reeks of booze and BO.                “Icarus, I need you to bury me. I’m... dead. I shouldn’t be here.”                “Mom, have you been drinking?” I say.                “Honey… Please. I need this.”                Her hand slices into the heat of mine as I bring her to the basement. My mother suffers from a delusion ever since the accident and her reincarnation. Reincarnation: a stupid flowery name for when someone dies and their backed up mind is placed into a new body that has been either donated or sold and have plastic surgeons reconstruct the face and body as close as possible -- if you are rich like us, that is. So she, in fact, isn’t wrong; she died. She should be dead. My father never had those last moments erased before the “reincarnation”.  So because my mother’s mind is more frail than most she has a depersonalization disorder. It’s what happens when, “I think therefore I am” turns into, “I think, but I am not.” So the only way she can rationalize this is to insist she is dead and demand us to bury her.  This happens once every few months.  She won’t let anyone touch her to try and erase the memories. It’s too much of an embarrassment to have her go to counseling for an important man like my father. So he found his own solution. We bury her.                She squeezes my hand as I unlock the basement door and take the steps down. The basement is lavish, large drapes covering walls to look as if they are holding out the light. A hardwood floor that reflects the candlelight and always empty pews. It was a priest short of being a church, or a killer short of being a bad horror movie. In the center of the finished basement we have a casket with a hole underneath. I help her in and as I close the lids.

“Thank you,” she sighs as she is enveloped in darkness.                I lower the casket into the hole with the automatic mechanism.  This has to be done or else she won’t eat or drink. What’s the point of a corpse eating? So we have this ritual so she doesn’t actually die. It takes a day usually and she is rejuvenated and perky. Then the cycle starts again.

               As I sit at the island in my house’s large open kitchen I rub the bumps at the base of my neck. This is where the stim implant was put into me. Usually they are put in around the age of eighteen, My father had one put in me when I was 8. Almost losing his wife he wanted to make sure his son had the same insurance. So since eight I was connected to the global network. My memories everything I am stored in a computer as well as a small chip in the implant under my skin. My life reduced to ones and zeros. It’s strange to think of life being reduced to a series of electrical synapses in our brain. A series of on and off switches that when amassed together is who we are. My thought is broken by the babble on the little TV on the kitchen counter “Jason Carway, the owner and mastermind behind Prometheus Systems, announces his plan to make his implants universal and available to everyone.  Some say he is trying to bring the classes together, others say he is trying to make humans irrelevant, while James says he is just trying to make the world a better and safer place.              “Jason Carway is pushing for mandatory installation of his implants now that most jobs require you have one. Later, is the black market body trade becoming an epidemic? More later at –“                “That’s enough of those assholes,” I thought to myself. I sat there, eating my bagel in silence. After moving from the city years ago, I thought it was way too quiet. There was always a hum of busy noise. Car horns, people yelling. It took me awhile to realize that it isn’t any quieter up here -- just a different kind of noise. Instead of insufferable noise of the human habitat, I am listening to the sounds of the natural habitat. A myriad of sounds, bugs buzzing, birds singing their songs, the occasional wolf in the night; all of them trying to assert themselves, sexually or territorially. It leaves an earthy taste in my mouth as I listen to the racket. It doesn’t mix well with my bagel.

I decide to go next door to see my uncle, Henry the local eccentric hippy prepper. It’s still cool despite being mid may. The luxury of living up in the Adirondack Mountains, some of the woods higher up there is still some remaining snow. The last of the waning corpse of winter; holding on for dear life.   I hear a “thwap” as an arrow sinks into a target and my uncle looks at me grinning.                “Hey there, Icky. I think I can finally best you and your hawk eye,” He says as I approach.                “We will see, old man,” I reply, grabbing my bow off the picnic table. It’s a light instrument resembling a recurve bow, although it’s made of an alloy that gives it more power than the compound bows of the past.                I draw, aim, and release all in one quick motion.  My three fingers moving with machine quickness, the arrow sinks in next to one of my uncles, stripping the feather off on one side.                “I’ll be damned,” he says, “What the hell kind of sorcery are you working with, man?”                This is an old tradition between us trying, trying to best each other, trick shots. It started after he read me lord of the rings as child to help me sleep at night.  I became enthralled with Legolas, the elf, and wanted to start learning to shoot bow and arrow. My mother objected, my father was indifferent, and my uncle leaped at the opportunity to teach me something.  Having no children, he projected his need to be a father on me, even though the man was near his 70’s without ever having a reincarnation. It’s rare to see anyone that age, despite the medical advances making it easy to live regularly to 100 years or more, unless they are of the pauper class and can’t afford it.                  “Your old man is still out of town?” he asks.                “Yeah, It’s been 3 weeks now.”                He examines an arrow’s feathers. “You know I don’t agree with what he does.”                “I know. I know.”                “Never liked a man who profits from war and suffering,” He comments more to himself than to me.                “I know he’s your father, I know Carol fell in love with him years ago, but he is married to his company and his vision.”

We talk about this a lot, my absent father, my broken mother, how I should feel about it. He knows that complex emotions are not tangible to me.  He is quiet for a moment, rolling the arrow back and forth in his hands.

“The Freethought Movement, they have it right. We should not let technology take our humanity away.”                I stand silently. Politics aren’t my thing. Prometheus Systems wants to standardize the singularity. They want everyone to be “connected body and mind” to their network, to live forever in a paradise that we create here. With a fee, they back up everyone’s memory so they can live in any body they want or without a body and just transmit themselves to other people who act as puppets temporarily, Echoborgs, or green eyes. When an AI or someone wants to be somewhere without leaving their home, they control them and they see through these special contacts that are standard issue. The contacts glow green when someone else is in control. Essentially people can bi-locate; they can always live forever as long as the money flows in to keep their minds backed up on a hard drive somewhere. They acquire people from agencies that hire people as their job to let someone control them for a certain amount of time. It’s a shallow job that can put you in a lot of danger. Green eyes tend to be targeted by the Free thought Project and its sympathizers as people who have betrayed their humanity. There has been a few bombings at donation centers, These centers people can go to and sell their body to be used to house someone who has died, They essentially turn the body into a puppet that is controlled by the stim implant. The person they were is effectively wiped off the earth. The poor do this because it pays well, they can set up their remaining family for years depending on the body. There is always a shortage in usable bodies. “They want to make the rich immortal and wipe out the poor.” That is how the Freethought Movement summarizes it. They see Jason Carway as a false profit promising a false salvation, while the world sees him as a messiah.                “Governor Percy has it right, He is having a protest down in Austin Texas, I am surprised that state hasn’t seceded its already like another country.” Governor Cornelius Percy  has fought technological progress since long before he gained office. Texas is one of the only states where it isn’t mandatory to have a stim implant to work. They donation centers, and any enhancements are highly taxed. “Texas is a state of humans, A state with a soul” Is Percy’s slogan that you hear everywhere.   “There’s no room in this world for a man who thinks he’s a god,” He declares as he draws back his bow. I notice his pristine shape; it always takes me by surprise. The muscles in his arms work like tight cables as he knocks his arrow and draws. His stern but friendly face focused a crooked nose, and a silver pony tail hanging to his mid back. The arrow is loosed and strikes the target, piercing a quarter he had glued there.                He grins, “Think you can hit a penny at 40 yards?”                “Of course,” I say.

               The thing about memories is that they aren’t corporeal, they are malleable. Every time you unpack a memory it changes. Like clay, it’s the same item, same memory but you leave imprints and it’s never the same. Human memory is fallible and prone to influences. It’s what makes last memories so ephemeral. The thing about last moments is you don’t realize they are the last. It’s just another day you take for granted in the obdurate gyre of your life. We want certain moments to be evocative, that’s why we taint them with happiness when we recall them. The fact is there are places you have been, people you have talked to for the last time, and their features have already faded from your mind.