#people in his life before already believed him to be a reincarnation of a man who is still alive btw

[epickiya722]

Yuji could say "I will eat your soul" as a threat and I bet people will believe him.

[sincerelymina]

invisible string

content ꒰ 2.3k ꒱ re4r leon x female reader. fluff! reader is friends with ashley. short & sweet. no warnings really. both reader & leon are hopeless romantics. and also bookworms apparently. mentions of the women in leon's life. french people slander. spoilers for the stranger by camus. not proofread, as usual. i miss autumn dearly. author's note i watched before sunrise the other night and it made me believe in love again for a second there. def recommend if you haven't seen it !! also listened to champagne coast by blood orange on repeat while writing this hehe. reblogs & comments are always very appreciated. ꣑ৎ

"He's, like, really gorgeous," your closest friend, Ashley, sighs dreamily, walking hand-in-hand with you towards the train station. The chilly October air nips at both of your cheeks, hers flushed red. "I think you'll really like him."

Given her track record, you'll be the judge of that.

"I dunno Ash," you shrug, giving the girl a lopsided smile in a poor attempt to reassure her, "He's a blonde. Are you sure he isn't the devil reincarnate?" You deadpan with a sip from your stale coffee.

At her frown, you sigh, "...I guess he did save your life."

Ashley had been dying to introduce you to Leon, whom she barely hung out with herself; his schedule was chaotic, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Between his personal life (or lack thereof) and missions in foreign countries, he almost never had the time. But finally, he had a day off, one he could dedicate to the President's daughter—and you.

"Trust me, Leon's a total sweetheart," she says as the two of you step onto the train, "He might not look it, but deep down, he's a big softie."

"If you say so," you mumble more to yourself than to her.

Gorgeous was an understatement. Through the glass windows of the café, you see Leon sitting in the corner near the record player, his blonde locks falling in front of his pretty face. A worn book is poised between his index finger and his thumb; Camus, how predictable.

The small bell above the door chimes softly as you both stumble inside, Ashley quickly waving with her sugary sweet smile at the sight of her little knight in shining armor. Oh, you had no chance with him if she was around. Your smile pales in comparison to hers; awkward and stiff.

Whatever, you didn't owe this stranger anything. Even if he was perfect in every way imaginable.

Leon smiles back at Ashley, then stares at you momentarily, before gesturing for the two of you to come on over. You have to fight the urge to physically cringe; the look he gave you felt so...weird. It wasn't exactly a nasty scowl, but it also wasn't a polite grin.

"Leon! How've you been?" The blonde gushes, taking a seat across from him; you follow right next to her. Before he gets the chance to reply, Ashley introduces you as well, "This is my friend I'm always talking about. She's the best girl I know."

You offer him a half-hearted smile, paired with a little shy shrug; damn, this man had you acting a fool already. To your surprise, he smiles back, albeit a little tensely, and nods, "It's nice to meet you."

"Like wise."

Ashley keeps the conversation afloat, mostly asking Leon about his missions—vaguely, of course, given their classified nature—and life in general. He'd reply and return the questions back to her, while you sat there with a constipated expression plastered onto your face, feeling completely out of place. Obviously, they weren't deliberately trying to single you out, but your attempts at trying to chime in had gone unnoticed. More like ignored.

You felt like a fucking third wheeler.

At least, until Ashley excused herself, claiming she needed to go to the bathroom "real quickly." Five minutes of awkward silence had already passed, mixed in with the occasional this coffee's really good and it's kind of cold in here. Leon looks at you, you look at him. Then out the window at the red and orange fallen leaves, and lastly, to the wall adjacent, just...admiring the vinyls on display.

Your eyes land upon his book, set haphazardly next to the ceramic mug, and then it hits you: you've read The Stranger, you can make conversation! At least, enough conversation until Ashley came back.

Breaking the unbearable silence, you say, meeting his gaze, "So...Camus."

Leon looks at the book, then at you, "What about him?" An inscrutable look etched itself onto his perfect features.

Ouch. Still, you persevere, "Have you read the book before? I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

You take a sip of your vanilla latte, a maroonish lipstick mark left on the rim; this was much better than the sad cup of coffee you drank in the morning.

He chuckles, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Only a million times." Cheesy, but you could work with it. "I love French literature."

You shrug, feigning disinterest, "The French suck though."

But, not wanting to burst his bubble, you add, "The whole concept of absurdism really stuck with me, I have to admit. Sometimes I wish I could be as indifferent as Meursault. He just...doesn't care." You laugh, the words flowing so naturally it shocked you.

"Just drifting through life without any real purpose?" Leon adds for you with a light scoff, his gaze softening a bit. "In my dreams. I liked how the trial was more of a judgement of his character rather than his actions. It's almost as if the real crime was his nonchalance towards his mother's death."

That's the most you've heard Leon talk in the half an hour you'd known him. He looked so cute, explaining the parts of the book he enjoyed. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

You're both fully engrossed in each other and your shared taste in literature, the outside world fading into a blur. You can't even seem to notice Ashley, who finally returns with a sly look on her pretty face. She slides in right next to you, clasping her hands together above the table.

"Wow, you two seem to be really hitting it off." Oh, her disappearance was so deliberate. Her voice snaps you both out of your little trance.

All her comment earns are two awkward chuckles and averting gazes. It's like everything's falling into place, just how she wanted it to, so seamlessly. Ashley really was pretty good at this whole matchmaker thing. Hell, she could give Cupid a run for his money.

The more you got to know Leon, the more that sweetness Ashley had mentioned began to seep through his rough exterior, like the morning sun pouring in through parted curtains.

Now it was her getting sidelined.

Leon was slowly falling in love with you.

He couldn't help himself. Despite his awful luck with women in the past, he still found himself gazing longingly at you, wishing you were in his arms. After the little get-together with Ashley, you two exchanged numbers, started hanging out together without her. You called that night before bed. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

You were just a college girl who did ballet and enjoyed the same music & literature as him; you couldn't be like Ada, right? An ordinary civilian, someone who hadn't seen the things he and his old flame had. He felt some semblance of normalcy around you, something he couldn't even feel with Ashley or Claire. It was so refreshing.

Ever since Leon met you, he no longer found himself picking up random women at bars for meaningless sex. Almost as if he was remaining faithful and loyal to you, even if you weren't together.

He was smitten.

No one, not even the woman in the red dress, the President's doe-eyed daughter, or his closest friend, could steal his attention away from you. They were all very beautiful, Leon had to admit, but you were ethereal. Out of this fucking world.

When you called asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie together, Leon felt his cheeks go hot, regardless of the biting cold December winds outside. He was walking back to his apartment after a rather unsuccessful mission; every muscle in his body ached, exhaustion creeping beneath his skin. But he couldn't leave you hanging.

"Yeah, sure." He manages to reply. "What movie?"

"Before sunrise." You say; Leon found your choice interesting. "It's one of my favorites. Have you seen it?"

"Who hasn't?" Leon chuckles. "I'll be over soon. Gotta take care of a few things first." He desperately needed a steaming hot shower after whatever the fuck his last mission was.

"Okay, great." He can almost hear the smile through your tone. "See ya."

Come two hours, and Leon's standing in your doorway, in all his blonde glory. "Hey sweetheart," he smiles softly; definitely a totally platonic, friendly, kind pet name specially for you. The cute look that'd sneak onto your face whenever he used it had Leon's chest tightening uncontrollably.

"Hi Leon." You let him walk past you.

He'd been to your apartment a few times before, but never alone; usually either with Ashley or some of his friends that you'd met in the two months you knew each other so far. Your heart was beating a little too fast for comfort right now, the idea of the two of you being alone together at night sending your mind into a frenzy.

There's a comfortable amount of space between you and Leon on the sofa, though you wished you were curled up on his lap. If only you knew how badly he wanted that too. The movie plays, but your concentration is on anything but. His cologne invades your senses, the subtle sound of his breathing solidifying the fact that he was right next to you.

Feigning fatigue, you "casually" let your head fall upon his shoulder, causing Leon's breath to hitch. He sits still, not daring to move an inch, afraid you might move yourself. He felt the way your knee brushed against his, your arms that were just itching to wrap around him. At first, he thought he was just imagining things; wishful thinking playing tricks on him for the umpteenth time.

But then your arms did wrap around his waist, lazily draped over him. You made yourself more comfortable, body flush against his, leaning against him like he was your boyfriend.

Leon really didn't want to say anything. But he just couldn't help it. "Everything okay?" You were generally touchy, sure, but there seemed to be meaning behind your actions this time.

"Yeah." The way you say yeah makes it seem like he's crazy for insinuating otherwise. "Why do you ask?"

"I-I don't know," Leon feels like he's dug his own grave. He clears his throat, "You're being awfully...affectionate." And now he wants to shoot himself.

You laugh. You fucking laugh. Leon blinks twice, wondering if he's dreaming.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not necessarily." He coughs. "It's just a little, um," Leon frantically searches for the right words to use, "Unexpected, I guess."

"I can let go if you're uncomfortable." Please don't, he wants to say.

"Nah, it's fine. I don't mind." And on that note, you smile, returning your gaze to movie, even if Leon's face was a million times more interesting. Of course the scene playing on the screen is Jesse and Celine's first kiss. How cliché. You're both fighting the urge to follow by example.

Silence envelopes the room, the air thick with tension that never really existed between the two of you before. Getting all awkward over a kissing scene felt so awfully juvenile, but it wasn't your fault Leon had that effect on you, and vice-versa. Both of your eyes are locked on the TV, not daring to look at one another.

To your surprise, Leon says, very quietly, "You're really pretty."

His words rip through the stillness. You don't know how to respond, but also don't want to leave him hanging. So you pull back a bit, enough to get a better view of his perfect face, and smile, "What?"

"You heard me," he mumbles, baby blue eyes meeting yours. Seeing Leon all shy strikes something within you.

"I did. I just..." God, this was awkward.

"I know this might seem weird, but..." Leon sighs softly, biting the corner of his lip for a second as he searched for the best words to use. "I think you're a great girl. Sweet, too. And I really want to kiss you." He mentally chastised himself for sounding so cliché, so corny.

He quickly adds, "You don't have to say anything, by the way. I just...I needed to get that off my chest." As if you could go on normally after this.

You stare at him in disbelief, mulling over his words, wondering if he was just saying things. When you were inviting him over to watch a movie together, you didn't expect a heartfelt confession, but really it was naïve to think you wouldn't. Especially after holding onto him like that. Your reluctance to respond has Leon's expression fall flat.

So you don't say anything. You kiss him. And he doesn't waste any time kissing you back. It's soft, delicate. Testing the waters. His hands clasp onto your hips, slowly smoothing up and down your back. It doesn't take long for him to really get into it, though.

The outside world fades into nothing, the feeling of Leon's chapped lips on yours overpowering any other. "Are you sure about this?" He mumbles between kisses, unsure if you really wanted to kiss, or simply did it to please him. You mumble a quick shut up and tangle your fingers into his soft hair.

Your hips shift a bit, coaxing him into pulling you onto his lap, lips still connected together. You only get sloppier with your kisses, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose, just in case he might change his mind about all of this the moment you part.

"Easy baby," Leon whispers, pushing you back slightly; this definitely wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "I'm not going anywhere."

It's safe to say the movie didn't get finished. Good thing you both watched it before.

[satorusugurugurl]

Return to Me

Summary: When the blood and death of The Shibuya Incident are avoided, a reincarnated Fushiguro Toji has one goal in mind: to make it home to his late wife.

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, wall smex

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N Kinktober Day Two: Reincarnation! Toji, come find me. I’ll give you that Gluck-gluck 9000!! 😩

Toji couldn’t remember a lot, But he could remember his death. He had been assigned to kill the star plasma vessel and would have been greatly rewarded for it. While doing his job, he attempted to kill Gojo Satoru. He underestimated him, believing that he had gotten away with killing the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, much to his disbelief. He had not anticipated the seventeen-year-old being able to use the reverse curse technique. Healing himself while simultaneously unlocking his true power.

That same boy had killed Toji. He left behind his son and you, his wife, who would surely think he had run out on you.

If only he had a chance to take the time to explain what had truly happened. He had never intended to run out on you. He just met his untimely end; sometimes, the odds weren’t always in people's favor.

But fate seemed to give him another chance. He had been channeled into someone else’s body who had lost a battle against his soul. Some old hag demanded that he kill all the sorcerers. But when he had killed the old bitch, several veils that had been dropped around Shibuya were lifted. It seems as though whatever malicious plan they had must have been throttled.

Toji had an urge to find the strongest opponents to fight, but that urge died down as peace fell upon the city. Instead, another urge, a strong desire, overwhelmed him. He needed to find you.

With that singular thought, Toji was off, searching for you. Much to his relief, it didn’t take long to find you. You were still at the same house, the small garden in the front thriving with life. Life that he had been drawn to like a moth to the flame.

He approached the house with caution, peeking through the entry window. It looked the same, and he only spotted one pair of shoes, which hopefully meant you were alone. Not wanting to wait any longer, Toji knocked on the door as a clap of thunder sounded above him.

You blinked over your shoulder as you stirred into your teeth. Who could be knocking on your door this late? You weren’t expecting company, so with a sigh of half an annoyance at the prospect of being your neighbor and boredom; you moved across the floor. Nursing your mug at the door, you looked through the entry window and saw a tall man standing right in front of your door.

You cocked, a brow cracking the door open chest an inch, leaving the chain lock fastened securely. “Can I help you?” The stranger seemed to shiver as rain began pouring down. “Are you okay?” You asked, watching as he stepped closer to the door.

“Hey, Doll.”

Doll, the voice, the silhouette, it couldn’t be him! But as lightning flashed across the sky above, you saw his face, your late husband's face. The mug fell out of your hand, ceramic shattering as hot tea spread across the wooden floor, but you didn’t care. You were more concerned with throwing open the door. You wasted no time, stepping in, catching you, as you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he slammed you against the nearest wall, kissing you with such force And needing your breath away.

“How?! How the fuck are you here?!” You guessed out as he hugged at the white sweater he wore. “Toji—”

“I always told you I’d find you,” he growled against your lips as he helped you out of your sweats. “I don’t go back on my word.” His lips over your collarbone as he pulled down his pants, his already hard cock leaking pre-cum was teasing your pussy, rubbing the weeping head over your slick folds before the slit caught against your clit. The sensation drew out a gas from you. “Fuck you still feel so good, Doll.”

“I missed you.” You moaned out as you fought against the sobs and tears that threatened to flow down your flushed cheeks. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I don’t plan on leaving you for a very long time.” His teeth grazed over your sensitive skin as he dragged the head of his cock down to your tight entrance. “So let me make up for you all those years ago.”

“Please.” Your pleading was the only confirmation needed before he pushed inside of you with a hiss. “Hnngh!” as he stretched you in a way your toys and fingers could never compare to.

He moved to bury his face in the crook of your neck as he painted heavily. The feeling of being inside of your cunt again, hearing your moans, feeling your nails dragging down his bare back was a feeling he never wanted to forget. That’s how you both stood for a second, reveling in being joined again. A feeling you never thought you would get to experience again.

“Fuck—you’re so tight.” to voice was hot against your neck as you guessed out does he buck his hips forward inside of you. “So goddamn tight.”

“Fuck!” You cried out gentle thrusts, turned into harder ones. His cock hit the deep part of you, making your legs tremble with each drag of his thick length inside of you. “God, I missed you!”

“Yeah? You missed me, missed me and my fat thick cock?”

“Yes! You’re the best I’ve ever had, Toji!”

Pride swelled in his chest at your words, which only made him more eager to please you. He wanted to make up for all those times he had missed. Toji would pull all the way out of you before slamming back inside of you. Each thrust would brush against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you before hitting your cervix with a force so hard your breath was stolen from your lungs.

You cried out, tilting your head back. “Ahnngh!” Your bones and the sound of your skin slapping me against my skin didn’t defend the sound of the pictures on your wall; shaking, falling to the ground, glass shattering your world, had shattered the second. Your husband came back to you. “T-Toji!”

The breathless tone of your voice and the feeling of your warm, wet walls hugging his thick length left Toji in pure bliss. He knew this was where he was meant to be. Right here with you, feeling you, tasting you. Toji didn’t want this to end; he wouldn’t let it end. His lips yours again, and a kiss that was staring, his tongue, forcing its way into your mouth, which you gladly welcome.

“Mhmm~!!” Moaned, gripping his shoulders as you roll your hips slowly against his. Squeezing around him until he shivered, breaking the kiss. “T-Toji, I-I’m—”

“I know.” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Me too.”

Knowing you both were so close to that sweet release, your movements lost the familiar rhythm, replacing them with crazed lust and undying need. You clenched harder around him as he fucked into you harder, faster, desperate not to finish before you. But fuck, it was so hard; however, luckily for Toji, he knew your body, his wife’s body, even after all of these years apart.

He reached down, rubbing your clit in hard, fast circles. That was the final push you needed to send you into sweet orgasmic bliss. You screamed, gripping your husband growling like a wild animal as he lost himself in the feeling of you. And the way you came around him. The tight contractions and the way you screamed his name had ropes of cum shooting out your walls with his seed.

Wide eyes rolled back into your head at the familiar sensation you had missed. Decide, shivering as the book of his hips slowed until he was settled deep inside of you, his length softening as you both breathed heavily. It was only when you could no longer hear the pounding of your own heart in your ears that you pulled away your index fingers, slowly running down the scar on his lips.

Toji leaned into your touch, exhaling softly. “I’m home,” he announced as if he had just returned from a long trip. And on that rainy October evening to grind, kissing away a tear that streamed down your cheek.

“Welcome home.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter five: Discovery Channel (In which you find out you have fans)

Warnings: Idk sort of Hi3 lore spoilers? Void Archives is his own warning

Why the hell did you even bother to think you could fix the absolute red flag that’s the divine key sitting on the chair next to your bed?

The more the Kirschtaria look alike spoke, the more you were convinced he should have been booted off the train. Too bad you couldn’t let your intrusive thoughts win in the meantime— Welt doesn’t know just how worse this guy could get, shared goal be damned.

“Okay so uhh, you were with Welt to fight a bunch of people in the sky right?” You said, trying to go along with whatever the fuck he was saying— it wasn’t like you didn’t know what they were doing beforehand, but it was easier to pretend you didn’t know shit.

“Yes, and we were in luck because Himeko had saved us.” He said, smiling. For a moment you would have been utterly bamboozled but you knew better.

You thanked your new brain that functioned as fast as a supercomputer, because you knew everyone in this train would be dead meat if you were slow.

“I see… that’s good to know she managed to get to you in the nick of time then.” You told him with a light hearted laugh, you swore that the more he looked at you, the more suspicious he became. If you were going to kick this man off the train it would have to be a vote of majority, but since he wasn’t acting up just yet you were going to postpone that meeting.

He was still on your watchlist, though.

Void Archives opened a bottle of expensive looking whiskey and poured it on a cup, and then another, and handed one to you.

“A toast.” He said, but you heard “An offering of friendship”. It was at least good to know he knew he shouldn’t fuck around with you.

You accepted the glass, drank it and grimaced.

“Not a fan I see.” He shook his head as if to mourn your lack of taste in the finer things in life. But what would he know? He’s a cube.

“I don’t like it, but I can drink it.” The taste of the whiskey burned in your throat. “Tastes a little funny though.” You murmured, Void Archives didn’t react much to your statement and continued to drink til he emptied the bottle.

It took him an hour, but at least the empty bottle signified he overstayed his welcome in your room.

“Let us meet again tomorrow morning, I want to speak with you soon.” He told you before he left.

Good grief, what a creep.

———————————

You never did end up speaking to him, instead heading towards Welt Yang, who you want to vaguely warn.

“I know you knew Void longer than you know me,” you began, but you already know Welt was more likely to believe you than the cube. “But keep an eye on him, he gives me a bad feeling.” Plant the seed of doubt, slowly but surely, so that the damage to the express can be minimized.

“I’ll.. keep that in mind.” Welt inhaled, stiffly nodding at your words as you patted him on the back.

“Great! Also, if things come down to it, you have my say in kicking him off this train.” You grinned, waving before disintegrating into particles as you returned to your original body.

Famous last words to be spoken.

Because five years later, on a Christmas Eve of all occasions, shit happened. And Void Archives was booted off the train like the red Amogus on a community vote.

Was it chaotic? Yes. Was it like a court hearing than an actual community vote? Also yes.

You had plenty of evidence presented, including the first instance you invited him to your room— because what do you know, the whiskey he gave you was drugged.

He did plenty of horrible shit, and even Himeko, poor patient Himeko, had enough.

You felt a little bad for Welt though having to deal with the aftermath, needless to say, everyone, except you, needed therapy on that train.

On the upside, someone better did replace the blonde and that was Dan Heng who joined you a few weeks before Void Archives was booted off the express.

“Well,” you blinked. “That was something.” You said out loud as Dan Heng shook his head. “Sorry you had to meet that guy.”

Dan Heng brushed it off, instead focusing on staring at the Christmas dinner that Pompom prepared for everyone and poked the turkey on his plate with a fork, before properly digging in.

It wasn’t exactly an ideal way to start your holidays and welcoming someone in the crew properly in a celebration, but you supposed it’d have to do.

It was at least one less toxic bitch off the train.

——————

You didn’t expect you’d deal with your own information being displayed in the databank though. Dan Heng wasn’t creepy about it at least, not that he knew you were an Aeon— specifically, the Aeon that ate Akivili (you still feel bad about that).

“Libertas, huh.” You let out a snort as you read your own little book. In there, it was written on how you were discovered, and what you stood for, along with a group that eventually became your followers.

You hummed, thinking it was rather endearing to see the Avgin there as some of your believers. It was interesting on how you got a following, no matter how small, in the few decades you existed in this world.

It wasn’t just the Avgin, there were others who you did not know too who believed in you, and others who you did see when you had peered into planets to see what people were up to.

It was sweet in a way, for them to cling to you for belief as they sought true happiness in the way of freeing themselves and others.

You wanted to keep it that way.

You read into the pages more, finding out what kind of worship people dedicated to your path; there was a statue of you in one city in some planet hundreds of light years away, in another planet there was you in a tapestry, in another you had a statue and a painting inside of a massive church akin to the ones you saw in photos of Rome.

It was a little overwhelming, and you felt a little shy at the recent discovery of all of this.

You closed the book and put it back on its shelf, exiting Dan Heng’s room to ask Pompom for tea after helping them with their chores.

—————————

Unbeknownst to you, Dan Heng knew you were an Aeon— and an Aeon he believed in in some way when he had heard of you in the whispers of the guards in the recent years he’s stayed in the Shackling Prison. It wasn’t exactly difficult to piece things together with the context clues around the place, not to mention, Himeko did end up telling him.

You wouldn’t be angry about it, she said to him. You were apparently rather human-like, and kind.

Himeko wasn’t wrong, and Dan Heng was going to trust that judgement. Is he wary? Yes, you’re an Aeon after all, you were plenty big of a deal.

But Pompom didn’t seem to be scared of you, and Welt spoke to you with a sense of respect. You regarded everyone in this train with a certain familiarity— Dan Heng did feel like you were a bit strange due to the feeling of “uncanny valley” you gave him, but you were kind to him and you were welcoming.

He was welcome in this place, he had a place to stay, and a purpose, as meager as it was.

Dan Heng thinks things would be alright from now on.

————————

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI (HERE), Part VII, Part VIII

Yeeeee this took a bit!!! Thanks for the wait yall, I know it’s calm rn, but it’ll get rowdy again at some point I promise.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

[Please read while listening to this.]

IF THERE WERE TRUTH IN REINCARNATION, you would beg to be reborn as a kitten. A cherished kitten who was allowed to sit on a human's lap whenever looking for warmth. Perhaps if people saw you as a nice, furry creature acting cute, they wouldn't hurt you. Perhaps if they thought of you as a creature simpler to understand, they wouldn't abandon you.

Being a human child is weary work. They say you were created from the proof of love between two inseparable people; your very breath is a testament to their unbreakable union. And your identity is sculpted by the undeniable beauty they believed the world possessed, compelling them to bring forth new life to share in the splendor of it all.

So, who are you now after they've parted ways? Father was no longer just your father; he had formed a new family with another two daughters as evidence of his love for a woman who wasn't your mother. You are no longer his favorite, and surely you are not the only one. Meanwhile, Mother is only left as a vengeful woman, reacting with anger each time she glimpses traces of your father in you—in your words, mannerisms, or even thoughts. Any divergence from her own beliefs, she considers defiance.

(Didn't you say, I am proof of their love? Don't you know, that promises can be broken and roots can be severed. Marriage should be forever until it isn't. Then, who am I if they are no longer love each other?)

The pitiful child of man shuffled through the world; full of despair, without self-identity. Not daddy's little girl, no longer a copy of mommy. The soft hair that was once braided was more like a tapestry full of wounds piled up early on. However, no one knows this – they say, “What do little children know about adult problems?” and yet, your body ended up bleeding internally from continuously swallowing the thorns spit out by your two originators.

Forced to grow—my spine wasn't developed enough to be your pillars! Mature little girl.

If reincarnation is true, then, you hope to be placed in a kinder world. A place where happiness is within reach—where you will always be embraced by love. So you don't have to scavenge looking for it in everything.

In a kiss offered by a stranger.

The tea lies long abandoned on the coffee table, gone cold hours ago. Yet, the taste still lingers on his lips – bergamot and spice mingling with something uniquely him. Your eyes were tightly closed, but you could feel the warmth radiating from his approaching body. He places a hand under your chin to tilt your face, and he slides his tongue in with practiced ease. You breathe in his aroma deeply, and a thin cloud falls over your consciousness.

Simon kissed with quiet intensity, giving you the impression that it wasn't his first time. It doesn't matter; you already lost your first kiss to your high school crush anyway. But, when compared, this is nothing like the chaste, fleeting peck bestowed by Billy Thompson behind bleachers in junior year. That was a schoolgirl's kiss. This? This sets your blood ablaze.

Laid bare, you are. With your pleading love-me eyes—the gaping mouth of a virgin begging for someone to pour love into it until it hits the back of her throat, swallowed without a trace – “let me wash my esophagus with this. So that my future lovers don't find out how unlovable I am.” Some sort of ablution. And Simon becomes the all-compassionate man, volunteering for a play where he acts as your lover.

His tongue brushes against yours—a clumsy dance of your inexperience. But Simon took the lead, coaxing your shy response. Your hands crept up and clutched the sleeve of his leather jacket. As he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, warmth pooled in your lower abdomen.

This, you realize dimly, is what fills the pages of your well-worn romance books—passionate kisses and warm breaths mingling with each other. One difference is your lack of love for each other. It doesn't matter; after all, lust is a cheap substitute for love, just as searing.

(Starving people eat anything, right?)

When Simon put his big hands on your waist, you gasped and pushed him away. His brows were furrowed in confusion, but his eyes were waiting for you. Your cheeks reddened as you avoided his gaze.

“S-sorry…”

Simon watched patiently, his hands hovering but not crowding. A thought occurred to you—clumsy and awkward as you felt. You bit the inside of your cheek as you gathered your courage.

“I should, um, find...” Your voice fell to a whisper. "Contraception."

He just nodded, his expression carefully schooled. You got up from the couch, knees shaking, trying to ignore the embarrassing damp sensation between your legs, and ran towards the bedroom like a frightened doe.

As you searched through the dresser, you stumbled upon a sealed box beneath a pile of clothes. In a rush, you pulled out the box with fumbling fingers, barely managing to keep it from slipping from your grip. A small foil wrapper—a precaution purchased on a whim, “just in case” some imagined future occasion arose. Little did you know, that occasion would be this night with this stranger turned companion.

Through the door, you hear Simon's gentle footfalls approaching. Your heart threatens to jump from the confines of your ribs. Turning, you found him waiting for you, sitting at the end of the bed, pink sheets against his dark leather jacket.

Suddenly, the tiny foil packet feels heavy and itchy around your fingers. Gathering what little courage you have, you approach on unsteady legs and perch beside him, close but not quite touching. Your gaze was still on the carpet patterns, which looked strangely more interesting, while your hand reached out to hand him the small square.

Simon's eyes fell on the foil packet, staring at it like it was a foreign object. He looked up at you.

“You ever done this before?”

Your cheeks flushed with renewed shame at his question. “No, I haven't.”

The quiet confession hangs heavy in the air. You wait for him to take that little packet from you—part of you expects him to take advantage of your inexperience. Is that not what men do when presented with a willing body and an opportunity? A chance to take the lead, to act like they know everything—taking it from a girl and then going home to brag off to their equally asshole friends. As if their cocks were that great to be able to change a woman with just a few thrusts.

And while this may seem unjust, you can't help but generalize the rough types that frequent bars like the one you've both visited. Subconsciously, you make the same assumption about Simon.

But, he proved himself to be different. He confounds your expectations and judgment at every turn. Calming softness is the last thing you would expect from a hardened soldier like him. He has mapped every opening, joint, and gap in you that he may exploit against you—

And yet, when anyone else would seize the opportunity for easy pleasure, he pulls back, lost in his own thoughts that you can't begin to understand.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Might be better, your first time… if it's with someone important. Someone who'll treat you right."

"It's just sex."

Before you can stop yourself, the words escape your lips in a feeble attempt to contain the raging tempest of feelings inside. But even as you say that, you know in your heart it's not true. From the time you were a teenage girl singing cheesy songs and poring over fairytales, you've dreamed that your first time would be with a lover—someone you truly cared about, someone who dedicated their body to you out of love rather than simply lust. You’ve imagined yourself on your wedding night, sealing your bond in the most sacred ways.

Foolish, romantic notions, like a fragile dream, you know. And some small, still-hopeful part of you holds onto that fantasy, hoping it will come true. But that too erodes with time, evaporating more and farther from your grip until you are forced to settle for something within your reach. Desperation drives the unthinkable, right?

Another wave of silence between you. Simon hung his head low before taking the foil packet from your curled fingers. The bed creaks softly as he rises to tower over you. His strong hands are bracing the mattress on either side of you, caging in but not touching. Your heartbeat forms an accelerando as you hold your breath, peering up at him through your lashes to take in every detail you could in this dark room.

“Last chance, darling,” he rasps, searching your eyes. “Once we start, there's no taking it back.”

When he speaks, his breath washes hotly over your lips, and the gravel in his voice makes your insides clench. Supported only the dim light of the moon through the window for illumination, the lean muscles under his jacket looked more defined, and those irises seemed to darken with promise and more enigma.

You swallowed to relieve the sudden dryness in your throat. He's so hard to decode, and a small voice warns you not to mess with something you don't understand.

Something born of desperation takes hold of you. Before your courage fails you, you reach up to trace fingers along his stubbled jaw, feeling his muscles stiffen under your touch. Your lips came closer and pressed against his as a plea and answer. Heat floods your veins at the contact. Simon paused over you, letting you set the pace as your mouths moved together. His hands gently massaged the fat on your thighs, following the curve of your hips.

Simon's hands find purchase on your waist, thumbs tracing idle circles coaxing soft sighs from your lips. He deepens the kiss, and you follow gladly, clinging to his broad shoulders as he leans you back on the bed. Your heart is pounding wildly. He drags his lips to plant kisses, molding your body perfectly to his solid form.

Before he even stripped your clothes off, you already felt exposed in front of him. Your body isn't good with secrets; when he marks your pulse point with gentle suckles, you tangle your fingers in his dark blonde strands. His mouth ignited a flame against your flesh.

Some small, rational part of your mind screams this is madness. What will Mother say, when she finds yourself lost in the arms of a stranger, giving yourself so freely? “A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing!” she kept repeating. But you're only borrowing this man's body and tonight, not his heart.

As Simon straightens above you, his hand flies to your jeans button with intent. Shyness overcame you in a sudden wave. “I-I'll do it,” you stuttered in a small voice, your cheeks burning.

Without waiting for his response, you sit up enough to fumble with the stubborn button with trembling fingers. Stupid pants. Why does it have to be difficult when you're desperate to shed these last few barriers between you? Sweaty fingers are slipping clumsily. Frustrated, you curse under your breath, the haste making your efforts futile.

A lifetime seems to pass before your buttons are finally free. Peeking through the gap, the plain white cotton is visible, trimmed with a small white satin ribbon at the waistband. Shit. If only you had known what tonight held in store, you'd have definitely chosen something lacier, sexier to match the mood.

Though, Simon didn't give any reaction other than maintaining his steady gaze at you. You again try to wiggle and squirm against the denim down your legs. Come on, come on, don't ruin the mood-

Before you could protest, his hand replaced yours. Large and sure, they grip your waist to guide you to lie down once again as he tugs the jeans free in one smooth motion. The denim hits the floor with a careless toss, leaving you with your top and the flimsy barrier that you put on without thinking. Instinctively, you squeeze your thighs together, acutely aware of your condition beneath his stare.

“Please don't look,” you plead shyly.

“Why?”

The single word rumbles out gruff, without judgment—too flat to contain one. He asked that in pure curiosity while continuing to stare at you.

“It's… embarrassing.” Your voice was small, almost a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

In truth, you feel naked in more ways than one. Between your legs, a dark spot has formed where your arousal has bled through the fabric and how it might disgust him. Your breasts feel heavy and sensitive where they strain against your bra. Every nerve is alive—hyper-focused on every minuscule movement and warm breath between you. It only took one touch from him to dissolve any remaining control.

The silence stretches while Simon is on his own agenda, studying you in considerations you don't understand.

“You want to stop, then?”

Simon's question sent a shot of panic through you. Stop now, even though you've just lost yourself in the sensation? When this man is the only person who can offer you the only scrap of comfort and care that you will never find again?

You shook your head vigorously. “No, please… don't stop.”

It was so embarrassing how your voice came out small and ragged—full of pleading for him not to lift his warm touch on your skin. To send him away from your bed now would be to return to the cold emptiness that has become your constant companion. He has seen half of you; might as well completely strip yourself for him and lose these foolish inhibitions. It seems that you too have no idea what moderation is; it was always all or nothing.

“Can’t reach your pretty cunny with your legs clenched shut, darling,”

Simon's coarse words spread a new flame to flare up in your cheeks. Your core feels wetter and throbbing than before, and you swallow thickly in morification.

Before you can think further, his thick thighs part your own with gentle insistence. You let out a small gasp. The stupid, girlish white panties were exposed to his view. But he makes no move to touch, merely hums his approval.

A sharp breath penetrated your lungs as he dragged his fingers to trace the outline of your cunt through the fabric. He pressed his thumb against your folds and slipped in. Under his caresses, you writhe and grab the sheets, your hips lifting in an instinctive need for greater friction. He spreads your slick flesh.

You barely register anything when he positions his face in front of your panties. Then, he leans in, nuzzling his nose against the damp barrier. Panicking, you clamp your thighs together on instinct to deprive him of access.

“Wait!” you gasp. “That's… it's dirty.”

Simon looked up from down there, at you as if he didn't comprehend what you'd just said. The soft light of the moon cast a silver hue on his blonde eyelashes, making them resemble the feathers of a Greek goddess's wings. His gaze, intense and piercing, locked onto yours, penetrating through your feeble objections. They see beyond your meager resistance, straight into your deepest desires.

Color rose in your cheeks, but the dimness of the room made them blend seamlessly with the background. You bit your swollen lip, not sure if you should ask him to stop completely and pull back to spare you the vulnerability or continue the treatment.

Without a word, he placed his big hands on your hips. You watched him grasp the waistbands of your panties before dragging it down to pool at your ankles. The fresh air caressing your newfound nudity sends chills down your spine. Another tug, and the scrap of fabric joins your discarded clothes on the floor.

Now, you're lying there with evidence of your undisguised arousal—sticky, glistening liquid from his touch in the past few minutes. Evidence of your pathetic desires.

Some small, rational part of you wants to flee, to cover yourself with anything. To ruin everything by saying that this was all a mistake—that now that you think about it, you don't want it anymore. That it's not too late, there's still time before he makes engravings on your walls with his pen like a stamp.

But that other part of you—Goodness.

And unfortunately for your liar side, that's the part Simon focuses on.

A cry escapes your lips when Simon returns his committed mouth between your thighs, granting your latter wish. He brushes his lips against your swollen flesh, making your back arch helplessly off the bed. Your legs fall open of their own accord. He wastes no time to delve deeper, lapping eargerly at your dripping slit. Each flick of his tongue broke one by one the chains confining your control, drawing out more sweet moans that made his jeans tighten even more from the aching hardness that was growing inside.

When his lips close around your swollen clit, you gasp, fingers curling around the bed sheet. Your body wriggled and trembled beneath him but Simon remained unperturbed. His blonde head was steadfast, focused solely on his devotion to pleasuring you.

You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter as he continues to lavish your weeping cunt. Incoherent noises spill from your lips – gasps and whimpers and cries escape without restraint. He pins your hips down and grips your thighs to keep them wide open.

“Simon… I… oh God…”

Tangles are created in your sheets as your fingers continue to twist them desperately in a tight grip. Every nerve alive and hyper-focused on the sensations his tongue continued to convey. Your pulsing walls close together as low pressure builds in your stomach.

“Si-Simon! I feel strange, I—oh!”

A wave of heat rolls from your lower stomach as your muscles clench and spasm uncontrollably. Your thighs quiver—you cover your face from the overwhelming sensation. White spots dance in your vision. Some dam has broken deep inside you, and you fall, fall, fall as a tear slips down your flushed cheek. Warm essence flowed freely towards his tongue, and he tasted it against the walls of his palate. His lips were wet, but Simon licked the remainder like a man long seized of water.

The room feels impossibly still and quiet. Only the sound of your mingled breaths and your racing heartbeat fill the humid air. You keep your flushed face covered. Now that the haze has cleared, your mind is swirling with shame and uncertainty again.

How do you deal with him now that he has buried his tongue in your cunt? The sticky mess between your thighs reminds you that he has brought you to the peak of ecstasy with just his hands and mouth. Nonetheless, your taut nipples and the pounding in your ears indicate that, despite everything, you still want more.

The whisper of fabric is heard as Simon shifts. You peer through your fingers to find him leaning over you, calloused hands gently pulling your palm away.

“You alright?”

The question, however gentle and well-intentioned, caused your skin to heat up in discomfort. You can't help but feel embarrassed—as if he sees you as some fragile thing, needing reassurance after every little touch. As if you're a mess, a tiny bird that soars too and falls, making sympathy his default emotion whenever he looks at you.

It makes you think about all the other women he must have been with, how he must have touched them in the same way he was touching you now. Those who are nothing like you. Those who understand their own desires and a man's. Those who could lose themselves for hours in passion, their stunning hips swinging above him as his hands glide along their curves without hesitation or restraint. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth—bitter and almost envious.

All the women around him, and unfortunately Simon has to settle with you tonight. A shy woman, unsure of her own identity.

Something has narrowed in your chest. Your lungs feel heavy as you breathe in, like an anchor is binding it to the bottom of your soul. But, you manage to give him a nod. And before your stupid mouth ruin everything, you surge up to capture his hungry lips with your own. Your arms snaked around his neck to bring his body closer to yours.

“How do they do it, those who make love without love?” you often ask. The first time you wonder about this, you compare it to building a house without a foundation. Impossible. It's like writing without words or dancing without music.

But as you sink beneath his bulky frame—as Simon lifts your legs to wrap around his hips and grinds his hardness against your cunt, drawing a moan from you and feeling the roughness of his jeans against your swollen folds—you begin to understand that it's possible. Those who make love without love simply need to possess the desire—a determined, tenacious grip on something.

As your teeth collided, the kisses grew more passionate and frenzied; it was unclear who was feeding off whom's hunger. His hips rolled into you. Tongues tangled together in an unrehearsed dance that ignites sparks coursing through your veins. He nibbles your bottom lip, and you moan into his mouth.

Reeling for breath, you turned away, only to give Simon the opportunity to nib on your jaw and trace kisses down your neck. His hand slid under your shirt, creeping up your ribs to cup your breast.

When he reaches the delicate shell of your ear, he closes his teeth gently around the lobe and tugs. You cry out at the sharp pain mixed with pleasure. His busy hands kneaded your breasts, twisting your erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He slides the other down your belly and stops to cup your cunt. You gasp and buck against his hand as he starts circling your clit lazily, dragging two fingers up and down, coating it with another wave of your essence.

“Off… take it off.” You mutter without thinking.

Simon understands your breathless demand. Kneeling between your thighs, he makes quick work of his leather jacket, tossing it without a care for the floor. You watch him take off his shirt, muscles rippling as he grasps the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

Your weathered heart, fluent with wounds and what is left behind in its wake. However, when the covering is removed, you're not prepared for the sight revealed to your eyes. His body—Simon's body. His chest was a masterpiece of defined muscle, and his abs were chiseled as if they were as solid as granite. The trail of blonde hair leads temptingly below the waist of his jeans.

It was the map of scars on his flesh that drew your attention. Pale lines, both thin and thick, had claimed their places, like the constellations he carried as proof that he had been hurt and survived. All his close calls, markings of victory—there were people who wanted him dead, but he lived to tell the story.

Still, in the dim light of the room, one scar seems strikingly different from the others.

A long, deep gash curves gracefully around one side of his ribs, which have healed into a thick rope of knotted flesh. You wonder about its possible origins—some accident, perhaps, working with tools or machinery gone wrong. Another one of his secrets you're not deemed worthy for him to share with.

Seeking to regain some composure, you grasp the hem of your sweater and draw it over your head. The only thing left on you was the white bra.

He observes your body with a careful scan before meeting your gaze once more. Leaning down, he captured your lips in his parted ones, renewing the kiss. You lifted your back slightly to make way for one of his hands. He fumbled with the small hook before releasing it, freeing your breasts in relief.

Simon cupped your breasts, fingers fully rounded and exploring freely now with more access. You let out another moan. He inserted your breast into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue dancing around it as he gently sucked. You arched against his body, pressing your chest against his.

He releases your swollen nipple with a tiny pop sound. You watched as Simon rose to his knees, eyes never leaving your form as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small foil packet you gave him earlier. Placing the square between his teeth, he reaches down to unzip his jeans. Your breath hitches in anticipation.

But to your secret dismay, the jeans stay on, shielding his thighs and underneath from view. Hope dissipates from your heart – a foolish, unfathomable melancholy seeps in through the empty rooms. As you watch him tear the packet open with his teeth and roll the condom down his length, you try to tell yourself that you have no rights—that this means nothing to him as it does to you. That this is merely your way of finding pleasure in each other until morning calls.

Yet, the disparity between you weighs heavily, as he has seen every intimate part of you, and you're still denied some access to him.

As Simon finishes rolling on the condom, your thoughts become detached. Desperate for a distraction—comfort, you stretch out your arms in invitation. He accepts your wordless plea, diving into your embrace and covering your mouth with his own as he slowly presses his cock forward. You feel the stretch and burn; your walls have been breached to accommodate his large size. The foreign fullness—the pulsing sensation of having a man fill you so completely—draws a quiet gasp from you.

Breaking the kiss, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You felt him take a shuddering inhale. He started to move slowly, the stretch and burn of your walls parting further. Your breath comes short and sharp as tears prick the corners of your eyes from the sting of it.

“Too much? Want me to go easy?”

The question that leaves his lips tugs at the feet of your heart. And you believe that's how unlovable people behave—the urge to keep searching, to lick it even from the tip of a knife. The urge to see where it was never present.

You know he only shows concern for you to continue bringing him pleasure. Yet, some part of your traitorous, fickle heart, swells. The conviction that there is something worth feeling, something flickering in the distance—timidly but surely blooming, waiting to be discovered.

(Butterflies take flight in my belly. My heart has learned to feast on even the driest of breads.)

“No… keep going,” you rasp.

So, you cling to him tighter, urging him on despite the ache, because having him move within you is the closest you'll come to an embrace—to a cheap substitute for love. Let me drown; let his touch envelop my body – to become both his refugee and prisoner. Let me lose myself in this illusion, for it is all I have.

Simon pushed himself in further. You bit your bottom lip feeling him against your walls; your blunt nails create half-moons into his flexing back and shoulders. The burning feeling is emphasized before gradually disappearing and is replaced by pleasure. You threw your head back against the pillow as he slowly sped up his thrusts, bringing your hips to meet his.

A broken gasp escapes your lips when he slightly changes his angle and slams back in. His name was uttered in the lewdest sounds—gasoline on the fire of his lust, creating another wave of vigor to slide his cock in and out of your weeping hole.

Silhouette was created when he straightened his back, blocking out the moonlight. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he continued to deliver controlled thrusts. You watched the sweat slide slickly down the cords of his neck. He gripped your hips before pulling out. You whimpered at the empty ache. But, before you can protest, he slams in the angry crown and fills you to the hilt in one deep thrust.

The mirror at the end of the room has steamed over from the heat. Simon places his large hand firmly on your lower belly, pinning you down in place. He brought his other hand to rub circles over your swollen clit. Your lips form a perfect 'O' as you gasp.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you follow the outline of his collarbone, droplets of sweat sliding down his skin. The sound of flesh slapping flesh was accompanied by mingled cries and moans. You turn your face into the pillow, watching how the sheets tangle and crumple around your desperate fingers. Simon quickened the roll of his hips; the bed squeaked with each one.

 “Ah! O-oh, Simon! Simon! I’m—!”

Your body trembles as unbridled moans escape from your failing lips. He pushes your stomach farther in while continuing to piston his hips. Your breasts bounce and sway; sweat covers taut, flushed nipples. He rammed his fat cock into you so hard that it caused you to boil and surrounded your messed-up brain with smoke.

“You close for me, darling? Gonna come all over my cock?”

Your cunt throbs from his breathy voice. Brows furrowed, lips parted around gasps and sighs. The lacrimal glands swell. Every inch of your senses is narrowed into hyper-awareness, with focus scattered all over and your thighs trembling uncontrollably. The white spots on your brain are spreading. His thrusts became sloppier as his hips stutter. Your stomach tightened, velvety walls pulsing around his twitching length until Simon buried his face in your shoulder.

A litany of curses and praise fell from his lips. His cock flooded in scalding heat of your slick juices mixed with his climax. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, trying to stabilize your ragged breathing and regather reality.

While your brain recovers, you stare at the boring ceiling of your room. The heaviness in your limbs and sore muscles replace the last waves of pleasure. Your mind wandered aimlessly, half-aware that you were still clinging to him.

Simon rose, drawing his body away from yours. He pulled out his cock, and the emptiness suddenly felt foreign. You observe drowsily as he stands on his knees to fix his trousers – his movements appear hurried now, as he no longer needs to linger after having taken his pleasure. Feeling exhausted, you lay motionless.

“You good?” he asked, looking at you.

You gave him a weak nod. “M’alright… just sleepy,” you mumble, biting your lip.

For a second, something flickered in Simon's eyes—something akin to tenderness. But it's gone as quickly as it came, and in your current condition, you're not a competent witness either. Maybe it's just a reflection of your desire for him to stay, to hold you one more night, and to leave in the morning. Too involved, too risky.

That wasn't the deal, you know.

And you also know that you've always been bad at letting go, of your habit to cling fiercely to what you love until your marks are ingrained upon them. You loathed the cold room now that he had detached himself from you. But it would be selfish beyond measure to ask him to stay, to shower your desperate wounds with his kisses as gently as he did when he was still under the spell of lust. You couldn't drag anyone along with you. It would be unfair, even cruel. You couldn't do that, not to Simon.

You turn to your side and pull the blanket over your naked form. Shutting your eyes, you tried to fight the dull ache rising in your chest.

“You can go,” you mutter.

Simon stood silent for a moment, his agreement given in silence. The mattress groaned softly as he shifted his weight. You heard him finish getting dressed, followed by the soft, steady padding of his footsteps against the floor. Each step takes him further from the bed. You heard the sound of the door knob turning and the door swinging open, allowing a sliver of light from the hallway to peek through the gap before it continued to narrow and darkness returned.

Then comes the click of the door as it fully closes, and you're all alone again.

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[oh-no-its-bird]

For the Uchiha Houhua AU, how does he survive the massacre? I'm guessing either he uses his poison skills to fake his death or he does the 'actually I was a prodigy all along' thing in front of Itachi. Itachi spends the next several years being driven a little insane by finding this out about his old friend.

Also does Houhua incarnate as a baby? Because if so he was probably old enough to babysat by Obito. I feel like you could do something interesting with that.

On that note his relationship with kakashi. Like that's his little brother figures sensei, and he was a shizun in his last life, he knows what it is to be a good teacher and kakashi in the early series is not that. If he also knew Obito and knows that that's his eye in kakashi's head? Oof.

How much of the Uchiha eye thing does he get? Does he have his sharingan? Or the mangekyou?

Also, wasn't it cannon that part of the reason why danzo let Itachi let Sasuke live was because he was a moldable child? How does he feel about having a semi adult Uchiha still alive? I feel like Houhua is walking a constant tightrope of protecting himself and Sasuke and not being seen as a threat by the creepy old man.

THIS IS A WONDERFUL QUESTION!! I. Am not too sure, actually

I feel like it'd probably be him trying to fight back maybe? Faking his death absolutely sounds like the shit hed do tho, so hmm might put that in his back pocket too

Either way, Houhua vs Itachi 1v1 where they're surprisingly well matched sounds really fun I cant lie.

Mmmm, maybe he can 1v1 Itachi and hold up surprisingly well? Itachi is doing the what is this, how are you doing this, have you been hiding yourself from me this whole time?! routine as Houhua goes fuck shit oh my god oh my god I cant believe that worked oh fuck--

Then Obito fucking teleports behind Houhua and stabs him. Oopsies!

Houhua somehow survives due to genuine luck, and gets a hint about there having been more than 1 person at the massacre maybe?

Idk if thatd work tho. Mmmm so many thoughts.

I do think that no matter what, Houhua would have to be "defeated" in some way. Play dead for a bit. If he comes out of the fight having visibly won, it'll spell problems and set dominos in motion I dont want dominoing just yet

So no matter what, he's ending the fight face down on the floor

ALSO THATS. SUCH A GOOD POINT ACTUALLY SHIT, DID OBITO HELP BABYSIT HIM?? Houhua did reincarnate as a baby, tho I think there was some soft mental block on him becoming truly conscious till he was at least around 5 years old. So by the time he was conscious at least, Obito was already gone. Rip!

I think that Kakashi wouldnt be immune to looking at Houhua and seeing the reflection of another cry baby ninja, though Houhua wouldn't have any real memory of Obito (tho he might have heard ab him before, with some clan members comparing them quietly when they think he's not listening)

Anyways I need a scene where Houhua and Obito meet once Houhua is older and Houhua straight up says "You know, I never did get why people thought we were anything alike" as a clear insult

Rare Houhua w !!

I think Houhua has an unusually difficult time manifesting anything w his eyes just bc of the emotional walls he has up between him and everyone around him. He does not allow himself to feel deeply for anyone enough for his eyes to be affected, no matter how fond he may grow of them. There is always a wall between him and the world.

I do also however think that no matter how hard he tries to distance himself from the people around him, even having known for years now that they'd all die this way, seeing the people who he was raised around all die to the hands of a boy he might have grown fond of--

Yeah.

Not even he's immune to that.

So when the massacre happens, he'll at least get his sharingan, tho idk how man tomoe (and I cant really remember what is needed to gain each tomoe, so, oops)

I do think he'd have an incredibly difficult time manifesting his mangekyou, for all the reasons above, so if he ever does it'd be way down the line.

I also think it'd be super fucking interesting (especially from an outsiders perspective) if he manifested it somehow due to MBJ's involvement, since his reincarnation is wandering around here somewhere as Jun, and does not remember Houhua

Houhua has no explanation for why he cares about this man deeply enough to manifest the mangekyou. Sorry.

Also, Im ngl, as I write this I can totally see an argument for something along the lines of "well Houhua went through a fuck ton of trauma as SQH, so what if when he regains his memories around 5, he automatically unlocks his sharingan just through that remembered trauma? Then just keeps it secret for years until the massacre"

I think that could be interesting tbh, it would also tell a story all on its own ab his grief for his past life and all the people there. Smthn to think ab, idk

Houhua is a bit too old and way too clever for Danzo's liking. hHis one only saving grace is that, on the surface at least, he's a fuckin worm of a boy and has literally no achievements other than having survived Itachi

He isn't worth getting rid of yet, but Danzo has an eye on him, just waiting for a reason to potentially knock him off.

Good think Houhua decided not to go the child prodigy route!! Putting his own flaws and weaknesses on blast to all of Konoha probably saved his fucking ass with Danzo. At least for now, anyways.

[lurafita]

Malec Soulmate (angsty)

How about soulmates and (kind of) reincarnations. If we think that soulmates are two people whose souls are meant for each other, and if we further think that after a life is over, the souls get cleansed of the old life and then are (re)born into a new life.

But souls that are connected to each other will find their other piece in that new life eventually. Hence, soulmates. Right?

So now imagine one of those souls being in the body of an immortal. Like Magnus. Who doesn't grow old and doesn't die and is therefore not reborn into a new life. But his partner is mortal. And the one time they weren’t, they were killed by a shadowhunter.

And Magnus has connected with his soulmate many a time in his centuries of life. And has had to go through the pain of losing them to death just as many times. And he can’t anymore. It's too much. He can’t go through that again. Enter Alec. His soulmate. Who is mortal. And a shadowhunter.

I keep imagining that it would come out in a private conversation? Like Alec, fed up of being rejected yet again (they are soulmates! Magnus should know that there is no running from this and anything that Magnus believes stands in their way, Alec will do whatever is in his power to change. They are meant to be!), corners Magnus somewhere and things get to a head.

With Alec thinking that it's because of him being a shadowhunter and Magnus being known to have little love for them (which Alec gets, knowing that Magnus fought in the uprising and has been victim to the shadowhunter brand of superiority for many years), and he wants to prove to Magnus that he is different, that they are different and they belong togehter and Magnus just has to give him a chance. And then it just kind of spills out of Magnus.

How he has done this already. Met him already. Many times. "The first time I found you, you were a prince, but still a child, and I didn't want to do anything to… to manipulate or groom you. So I decided to come back when you were older, so that the power imbalance between us wouldn't be so severe. Only to learn that you had died from an illness just two years after I left. The second time, you were a woman working as a seamstress. We spent two wonderful decades together before the townspeople burned you at a stake while I was away, believing me the devil and you a witch for loving me. The third time, you were a young man, just recently turned into a vampire. And I thought this time, this time it will last. But a prejudiced shadowhunter found you a little too close to their headquaters and thought this grounds to end you. I found you a fourth, and a fifth, and even a sixth time. But our time together was always cut too short. I have lived through losing you far too often. And I can't keep doing it. And now you are once again a mortal, and a shadowhunter to boot. How long would I have you this time? A few years? A decade with any luck? Mere months? I'm sorry, Alexander. I can't."

[quitealotofsodapop]

So can we get more context on this situation for the Tang River Water au?

referencing this au.

Literally one of the first things Peng does when they get released from the Scroll is to try and kill who he thinks is Tripitaka [Tang]. Peng presses on Tang so forcefully that the stone around him cracks. Tang doesn't be looking so great afterwards either.

Only reason Tang isn't passing through Diyu after this scene is Azure mentioning that he's just the monk's reincarnation (which 100% must have tickles Peng pink since they of all people know how embarassing it must have been for Buddha's teacher's pet to fail to break the cycle of rebirth). I have seen aus where Tang does die in this scene and his Golden Cicada powers have to come in clutch to keep his soul there. (link to a really cool animatic)

But in the "Mother Child River Tang" au?

Peng immediately takes one look at this *obviously* pregnant monk and just starts screeching with laughter! You know that sound peacock's make thats like a strangled laugh? That is all Peng is doing for their first five minutes out of the Scroll.

Yellow Tusk has already given Azure a warm welcoming hug and gotten caught up on the most recent millenium by the time Peng manages to catch their breath.

Peng: "The- [peacock cry]! The monk is- [more peacock cries!] ahhhhh! I can't even be mad at him right now! It's so funny!" Tang, still a little hurt, now offended: "Rude. A pregnant man isn't that funny." Peng: "But a pregnant monk is! Looks like that vow of chasity didn't stick eh?" Azure: "Peng, they are not the monk." Peng, laughter stops: "...then who the Diyu are they??" Tang, emboldened: "I'm Tang! Reincarnation and/or decendant of the Great Monk! And this is my husband Pigsy, our son MK, and our friends." Peng, tears in eyes: "HE MARRIED THE-!" [peacock cry!] Azure & Yellow tusk: *both sigh tiredly*

On a more serious note, since Sandy was forced to push Tang out of the way of Yellow tusk's attack + Peng pinned him to the ground, the Monkey King's part of the Scroll is damaged, MK is having a mental breakdown, and if we combine this with "Slow Boiled Stone Egg" au - the Brotherhood has taken Yuebei Xing hostage? Tang is in a lot of physical and emotional distress rn.

Like... enough to trigger early labor-level of distress.

Bodhisattva Guanyin is summoned immediately to Subodhi's temple before any actual training can occur. She's (and many other buddhist deities) so preoccupied in making sure that the Golden Cicada and his baby survives that they are distracted from the threat sieging Heaven at that moment...

Pigsy has to be held back from trying to tear the Brotherhood apart himself. Zhu Bajie wasn't *just* "some demon". He used to be one of the most powerful Marshals in Heaven - commanding 80 thousand heavenly sailors/soldiers. In one mythology, Marshal Tianpeng was even a son of Doumu - the mother of constellations (making him the Queen Mother of the West's brother oddly enough).

Whos to say that Pigsy doesn't accidentally tap into the powers of that life? The whole naval power of Heaven is suddenly at Subodhi's school, waiting for the orders to turn the Brotherhood into a fine red smear on the wall. It's only Tang's own pleading that Pigsy doesn't act rashly.

The chaos does lead to an odd conciencidence occuring though...

Nezha, post-s4: "I do wonder... has the Jade Emperor broken the cycle of rebirth? If not, then that means the location of his soul could prove dangerous if left unchecked. I must contact the Underworld." *starts mediatating* MK: "What do you mean?" Nezha: "The Emperor was eons old. That amount of acculmilated divine power needs a host that can handle it. Like-" Tang & Pigsy's baby: *snorts/burps loudly* Nezha, realising: "-the child of the Golden Cicada and of the Doumu herself..." Yama, King of Hell, astral projecting: "You guys are not gonna believe where the Emperor ended up! He's in a half-demon piglet somewhere- oh there she is!" Tang & Pigsy: ( 0_0) (0_0 ) "uh oh"

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 19: The Wizard’s Tower

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 9k words, 19/?? chapters

Summary: After traveling through Waterdeep, you and Astarion finally arrive at Gale's tower. Introductions are made, tours are had, and the relationship between yourself and Astarion continues to remain complicated.

A/N: People seem to disagree on whether or not familiars age, but I’m going to go with “no” because Tara is already older than a Tressym’s typical life span in BG3.

Ao3 | [Ch18][Ch20] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Walking through the streets of Waterdeep ought to be faster than this. It should have only taken you an hour to get to Gale's tower, according to Astarion.

However, you're in a new city and every single wonder captures your attention, leading you to stray from your path.

"Astarion, what's that?"

"It's a shop, darling. We have those back in Baldur's Gate."

"I know it’s a shop– gods, you know what I mean!"

Despite his attempts to keep you on track, Astarion doesn’t resist your wanderlust. His hold on your hand remains strong and, with every twist you take, he's being pulled along right behind you. You stop for an odd street stall, finding all manner of knick-knacks. You marvel at a statue, standing grand in the center of a plaza. You pull to an abrupt halt, earning a disapproving grunt from Astarion, when you spot a street performer using magic.

After what must be the tenth detour, Astarion finally tugs back. “Darling, could we please focus? We’ll have time for outings while we’re here, I assure you.”

You look at him, finding his expression to be amused, even if slightly annoyed at you. “We’ll have time to explore the city?” you ask, tentatively. You don’t want to presume that he’ll join you for anything, but the fact that he said ‘we’ gives you hope.

“Yes,” he answers, tugging on your arm once more. “But only if we make it to Gale’s without missing his celebration. Otherwise, we will never hear the end of it.”

“Fine,” you say, allowing Astarion’s hand to pull you in the proper direction. “Though I’ll admit, I’m a bit nervous.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow at you, purses his lips some as he asks, “About meeting Gale? Whatever for?”

You avoid his gaze, focusing on the road ahead of you as you respond, “It’s odd meeting someone you’ve only ever dreamt about. I know so much about you all, but you don’t know me. He may not even recognize me. How do I approach that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion starts. You can sense an incoming joke at your expense, so you brace yourself for his next words. “Maybe something along the lines of ‘You’re the man of my dreams’, that worked wonders on me.”

You wince despite the preparation. “Excuse you, that is not what I said. Besides, I didn’t dream nearly as much about Gale. I don’t think you understand how nervous I was to meet you.”

Looking back up at Astarion, you note that he is focused, staring forward as he leads the way. Despite that, you also spot unabashed satisfaction on his face. His tone is just as self-satisfied as he replies, “I would expect no less.” Then a thought occurs to him and his tone shifts, thoughtful and a bit more reserved as he says, “Though that may have been lingering guilt, I suppose.”

Your reaction is immediate and a bit overdue. “Not at all,” you say, stopping Astarion in his tracks as you pull on his arm. "I didn't come find you out of any type of obligation or guilt. I came to find you for you. I set out before I knew anything other than… than love.”

The vampire is forced to stop, look at you and your serious poise with his full attention. He doesn’t seem to believe you, and it becomes more evident when he says, “I’m sure. Certainly explains why you and my siblings have been such fast friends.”

Astarion continues to walk, yanking you after him a bit more roughly this time. Your voice is a bit breathless as you follow in a rush, “Yes, I’ll admit that after I arrived I– I let myself get a bit carried away.” The man snorts from ahead of you. “But that was never my intention when I left Neverwinter. I just couldn’t get you out of my damned mind. You can ask my parents if you’d like.”

The line of his shoulders seems to relax a bit, but he remains focused on navigating the streets of Waterdeep, ignoring your burning gaze. After a few blocks of silence, he speaks, “What are they like?”

“Who?” Your mind has wandered by now, thinking of how, were it not for Astarion’s initial chilly reception, you may never have met with Dal in the first place. Then deciding that, no, ultimately you would always have found the spawn, one way or another.

“Your parents,” he mumbles, barely audible over the buzz of the city. “What are they like?”

Oh! He’d been so reluctant to learn about you as your own person that the question catches you by surprise. Once you collect yourself, you’re only too excited to answer. Your words come out fast, unfiltered, “Well, they’re both elves, of course. They came to live in Neverwinter after meeting through their trade. It’s how they were able to send me to the best college for the arcane arts in the city. My mother is fairly practical, logical. She didn’t want me to come all the way out here, but, erm, came around to it eventually. I suppose I get my curiosity from my father, but, even so, I think you would quite like him…”

As your words trail off, you realize that Astarion’s slowed down, listening to you. “It’s odd,” he says, turning his head back ever so slightly. A worried crease lines his brow. “I am rather more concerned with what they would think about me.”

The admission leaves you a touch speechless. At first because of the vulnerability in Astarion’s fleeting look– Then because you’re honestly not sure how to answer. It would likely be a lie to say that they would love him. Your mother especially would hold no mercy for a man as mercurial as he is. But you decide that your words need not be so severe, “I think they would grow to adore you.”

“I see,” he mutters, accepting your word choice with as much grace as you suppose he can muster.

How I wish he would meet them, you think. But that’s not something ‘friends’ do, is it? Perhaps he thinks Gale really has a chance to stop me. Given his experience, does he actually have a chance?

You don’t have much more time to consider that question because Astarion pulls to a stop before a grand set of doors. They’re made of wrought iron, engraved in runes and intricate patterns, lined with a shimmer of blue magic. You recognize the runes as teleportation runes, and given the outer facade of the building, easily surmise that this isn’t the exact location of a wizard’s tower, just an entrance.

“Is this…?” you ask.

“It is,” Astarion says, flashing you a smile. You’re not sure what the look on your face is, but he is drinking it in with glee.

It’s just past midday, and you’ve finally arrived at Gale’s doors.

Astarion releases your hand to reach the door. You’d gotten so used to moving as a singular unit, that his sudden absence leaves you a bit off-kilter, as if a part of you is missing. You can't help but flex your hand open and closed a few times to return to yourself, to return to the present.

Once he’s reached the doors, you spot a large iron knocker in the center of them: the head of a tressym in high relief, a ring set between its sharp teeth. Astarion grips the ring, knocks it against the door three times in rapid succession.

A voice comes through the tressym a moment later, and you recognize the Magic Mouth spell. Gale’s voice is cheery, exactly as you’d remembered it from your dreams, as he says, “Welcome to the tower of Archmage Dekarios. To enter, please supply the phrase that he undoubtedly provided you with. Knock thrice more for emergency assistance.”

Astarion shoots you a look, as if to say, ‘see what I must put up with?’ then clears his throat before uttering his phrase, “'For the jubilation of one magnanimous mage, I, Astarion Ancunín, am enchanted to be granted entrance.”

The iron on the doors immediately begins to shift, unlocking whatever mechanism lies behind them. Several loud clunks and thunks later, the massive doors open to a glowing blue portal.

“Does he make you say that every time you visit him?” you ask, barely holding back your laughter.

“Oh no,” Astarion replies, gesturing you forward. “It’s a different damned phrase every year. And it seems to be a torture uniquely reserved for me. Elminster simply gets different types of cheese for his phrases.”

You follow his guiding hands, stepping through the blue portal, feeling the world behind you vanish and shift in hues of blues, not unlike the teleportation circle you used to get here. As soon as your foot touches the ground before you, the inside of Gale’s tower comes into focus.

Immediately, you feel electricity in your veins– the weave is strong here. You could only dream of having your own wizard’s tower, but you know enough about them to know their basic principles. They’re often built on spots where the weave is most highly concentrated. It’s often why they’re crafted in such odd shapes, in such inconvenient locations, and built to such great heights. It’s all in an effort to amplify the magic they’re built upon. 

This tower is no different. You can’t quite tell the shape of the full tower, but the room you’re in is a semi-circle, lined with books and featuring several cozy looking couches. It’s quite possibly one of the loveliest waiting rooms you’ve ever had the chance to be welcomed in. You’re practically entranced and only vaguely register when Astarion asks from your side, “Have I lost you to the books already?”

He might have, if not for the rustling sound coming from behind you. You make an abrupt turn, only to come face to face with the man of the hour himself: Gale Dekarios steps through a set of blue, velvet curtains, wearing a set of purple robes and a gentle smile.

Unlike Halsin, who had hardly changed, only sporting a few new scars and wrinkles, or Astarion, who looks entirely unchanged, Gale looks like a new man. Or rather a very old man.

Where there was once a short, brown beard there is now a lush, wavy white beard in its place, neatly trimmed and manicured to perfection. His previously long, brown hair is white as well, carefully brushed back from his face, giving you a full view of his age-dappled features. Gale’s deep, brown eyes are as sharp as ever, surrounded by a webbing of wrinkles well-worn from a life full of joy. Your heart swells at the sight of him, looking every bit the witty sage from your memories, albeit greyer and a fair bit more lined.

You almost don’t recognize him, save that unmistakable glint in his eyes, the patient smile as he takes you and Astarion in.

Gale is the first to speak, his words aimed for Astarion, but his warm gaze falls entirely on you. “Oho, Astarion! Is this the guest you spoke of? I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised upon receiving your invitation confirmation. A guest, for the first time!”

What? you think in a sudden crack of panic. He didn’t tell him who I am?

You flash a distressed look at Astarion, who is only looking at Gale with annoyance. “Gods Gale, must you make a fuss out of everything?”

“It’s not every day that your oldest and dearest friend finds someone new worth cherishing. I was starting to grow rather fearful that you’d get old and wrinkled in your lonesome.” Gale’s smile is a bit mischievous as he turns away from you, to Astarion’s ire.

The words sound like playful jabs from Gale, but Astarion’s glower only seems to deepen. He looks just about ready to hiss like a cornered cat when you interject, “Not someone new per say. An old flame, actually.”

Astarion turns his glare to you, but it’s Gale who responds, “Phenomenal! Astarion, you sly dog, never giving even the slightest indication. When did you find each other, how long have you two been together? And how do you put up with him?”

You’ve only just entered the tower, and already the vampire looks at his wit’s end. Their friendship had always been entertaining to you when you had the chance to dream of it– they’re opposite in so many ways, alike in so many others. As such, Astarion’s flared nostrils and irritated stance come as no surprise. Neither do his clipped words as he struggles to respond to the wizard’s sudden enthusiasm, “What they meant to say is that they are– Well. They happen to be…”

His lips seem unable to say the words aloud, so you take it upon yourself to help. Stepping forward and standing tall, you look your friend and companion Gale Dekarios in the face and say, “It’s me, Gale.”

You’re not sure what you expect when you say the words. Perhaps a question, ‘who?’, or a confused, concerned look. Maybe even Astarion elbowing you in the side.

However, the wizard before you only takes a single beat. For that moment, he looks at you, with those same, familiar sharp eyes, before recognition settles in.

Then his arms are wrapping you in a warm embrace.

“My friend,” he murmurs into the hug, squeezing you tighter with a pair of ropy arms. “I can’t believe it.”

Your own arms respond in kind, crushing him back with your own youthful vigor. “I know, it’s a lot.” And it truly is– your own heart is pounding in your chest, your eyes are welling up with moisture. Astarion was your lover, but Gale? Gale has only ever been your friend. You’d saved the world together. You’d spent countless nights researching and planning together, spent even more simply enjoying each others’ company. And, unlike when you met with Halsin, you now feel so much more comfortable in your former identity. You feel comfortable claiming this hug for yourself.

Outside of your bubble of joy, you hear Astarion clear his throat pointedly. “While this is all incredibly touching, perhaps we can head into the tower before you both break each other in half?”

Gale releases you, as you do him, and you both turn to shoot daggers at Astarion. “Don’t mind him,” you say to the wizard. “He’s just jealous that it took him the longest to recognize me.”

“Of course,” Gale responds with a hearty chuckle. “Astarion has always been uniquely undiscerning when it comes to you.”

The man in question looks between you, face set in a grimace. “Gods below, I’m having the most unpleasant flashbacks.” You don’t need Detect Thoughts cast to see his thoughts written on his face. Something along the lines of, ‘This was a terrible idea.’

Gale ignores him, turning back to you in utter glee. “We have so much catching up to do!” he says, arms open wide. Then begins one of his customary rambles, “By Mystra’s grace, elves are fascinating. I knew you would reenter the Material Plane, but I had no idea it would happen so quickly. Not to mention, from my studies, elves typically don’t revisit past lives– part of ensuring that your kind continues to progress, I’ve been told. That being said, I am ecstatic that you’ve gone against the grain, my friend–”

You’re enjoying a long-lived human’s perspective on your reborn soul, but Astarion clearly doesn’t share your same sentiment. “Yes, yes,” he says, waving a hand. “Very interesting, I’m sure. However, it’s been a long couple of days, Gale. Could we please focus?” You’re reminded of when he asked you to focus on the way here and can’t help the snicker that leaves you. Astarion points an accusatory finger at you, “And you. Stop encouraging him.”

You hold up your own hands in innocence. “I’m only being a polite guest! Gale, thank you for having us.” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re reminded of your past-self saying the same phrase of thanks every time you and Astarion came to visit.

“It’s my pleasure,” Gale says, his smile widening at the familiar words. “Now, could I interest you both in a drink?”

“We should drop by our lodgings first,” Astarion responds, before you can agree to a drink. “Or do you not want to deposit that enormous pack of yours?”

You blink at the vampire. The pack was growing rather annoyingly heavy, but you, again, hadn’t given much thought to your lodgings. A slight dread begins to build. “Where will we be staying?”

Gale turns around, gesturing for you both to follow. “Why one of the guest rooms, of course!”

One. You try to catch Astarion’s eye as you begin to follow Gale, any amount of his attention, any indication that he’s panicking internally as much as you are. Is he going to be comfortable sharing a room? Will we be sharing a bed?

The man’s face doesn’t react to Gale’s words– in fact, it remains utterly impassive as he says to you, “Don’t worry, darling. Despite his being a senile old man, Tara makes sure the place stays well kept.”

Tara! Gale’s familiar hadn’t appeared in your reveries often, only arriving for a spot of tea or to join you in chiding Gale to settle down. But your memories of her are fond and your question comes with a natural excitement, “Is Tara here?”

Gale takes you up a set of stairs as he responds with a cheerful look back at you, “She is out currently– procuring several items we still need for the celebration. But she should be back in no time. She shall be delighted to see you.”

His words warm you, glad that he’s had someone all these years. Then, remembering your past-self’s insistence and considering no one else showed up to welcome you, you ask Gale, “Did you ever listen to us? Find yourself a partner?”

Based on the way his shoulders hunch a bit, he slows as he continues to climb the stairs, you’re afraid you’ve delved too deep too soon. “Oh yes. Shortly after losing you, I found someone. I’m sorry you never had the chance to meet them.”

Guilt eats at your chest, knowing that he means that ‘sorry’, and wishing that he wouldn’t have to feel any regret. “I’m sorry, Gale, I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No need to apologize,” he says, continuing on briskly once more. “It was a lovely experience. But life goes on.”

You can’t help but look at Astarion as Gale says those words, wondering what he made of Gale’s lost love. What he made of Gale’s continuation after the fact. Perhaps, as two beings with lives beyond measure, their friendship evolved beyond trading barbs in the years after your death. Perhaps they could be there for each other, when everyone else passed on.

Astarion’s face betrays nothing as his red eyes meet yours in the dimly lit stairwell. “Darling?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you respond, turning back to Gale to change the subject. “I’ve only dreamt of parts of your tower, Gale. Would you be willing to give me a tour?”

“I would be overjoyed,” he says, climbing over the last step of the stairs. “Once you’ve had a moment to rest, let me know and I shall be right over.”

Following him out of the stairwell, you’re left in the curve of a hallway, several doors lining the outer wall– likely Gale’s guest rooms. “Amazing,” you say, looking left, right, up. “This tower is built in such an intricate way. What type of material did you use to ensure that the weave stayed stable?”

The wizard stops short of the first door and looks back at you. You can feel his appraising gaze, as if just taking in your robes, the spellbook at your hip, the inquisitive gleam in your eyes. “By the outer planes, are you trained in the arcane arts?”

You nod eagerly, your enthusiasm getting the better of you. “I am. I’ll confess, I was looking forward to meeting you as a scholar as well.”

The energy exchanged between you is palpable, and you sense that Gale is about to start on another lengthy diatribe about his tower, when Astarion clicks his tongue. “For the love of all that is unholy, could you two not wait until the tour?”

“Right you are, Astarion,” Gale says, smiling at you all the while. “What a fortuitous calling you’ve found, my friend. I look forward to imparting as much as I can.”

“More like a divinely ironic calling,” Astarion murmurs under his breath, pushing past Gale. “Which room is ours?”

“The third door,” the wizard responds, otherwise ignoring the man as he continues to speak to you. “It’s been a while since he’s been this prickly. He must be glad to be visiting with you again.”

“I can still hear you,” Astarion calls, as he opens the door down the hall.

You ignore Astarion as well as you respond in a quieter voice, “He’s been like that since I arrived on his doorstep. If it weren’t for my dreams of him, I’d have thought he was a prickly pear, not a man.”

The two of you share a laugh together before Gale continues down the hallway. “I apologize for before,” he says. When you only offer him a confused look, he continues, “For when I thought you were a new love of his. I truly should have known better. Astarion would have needed another half dozen centuries to get over you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but Astarion looks at you both from the doorway to your shared room. His eyes are dark, looking only at Gale, as he says, “That’s enough, Gale. Let us take a moment to unpack.”

Gale reads his friend’s expression with a patience you wish to possess someday. “I shall see you both later for a tour and some tea then?”

“Yes, please,” you reply, entering the room after Astarion. “And, thank you again, Gale.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend.” The wizard leaves you both with one last smile and a small wink, whisking off with the energy of a much younger man.

Now that you’re finally in the room, Astarion lights the lantern by the entrance and closes the door behind you. Looking into the space, you spot an armoire, a changing screen, a pair of armchairs, a couch, and then– just as you’d been afraid of, a single, large bed.

You focus your energy on keeping your voice calm, your breathing steady, even as your heart races. “So,” you start, dropping your pack on the ground and turning to face Astarion. “You didn’t tell him I was coming.”

“I told him I was bringing a guest,” is all that he says back.

“But not who I was?”

“I responded to his invitation weeks ago. It slipped my mind,” he says with a shrug.

The nonchalant look on his face is driving you mad. You’re not sure how this man can make you feel so many different emotions in one day, but by the gods does he manage it. “So you neglected to mention that we weren’t exactly lovers in your letter?” You gesture to the solitary, perfectly fluffed bed.

“Excuse me,” Astarion says, pacing to the armoire to begin unpacking his clothing. “I received enough helpful words from Dal, I didn’t want an entire speech from Gale before even arriving. Besides, it’s sharing a bed, darling. It’s not exactly the erotic act that you’re making it out to be.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” you say, disregarding his words.

“Nonsense, we’re grown elves. We can trance in the same bed without issue,” he says with an eye roll. “And if I’m such a temptation to you, why did you agree to be friends so easily?” he counters, raising an accusatory eyebrow at you. After the weeks you’ve had together, he knows full well that he’s a temptation to you. But if he thinks you’ll give him the satisfaction, then you suppose you know what you must do.

“Fine, the same bed it is. You’re the one who will suffer when I have a bad trance,” you grumble, beginning to take your items out of your pack as well.

Astarion crosses his arms, watching you as you lay out your robes. “I would hardly mind, darling. I tranced next to your past-self for years without issue.”

You suppose it’s true, though you can’t imagine what their trances were like. Your reveries of their life are the most visceral– it’s hard to imagine that they did anything but sleep peacefully. Instead, you ask another question that’s bothering you, aside from the bed, “So what are we supposed to tell Gale? That we’re… friends?”

“Naturally,” Astarion replies, sitting down in an armchair with a content sigh. “He’ll understand. It’s part of living a long life.”

You nod, continuing to unpack in silence, mind filled with thoughts of their long lives. After a few minutes, you ask Astarion another question, “Why didn’t you tell me about Gale’s former love? I might have avoided bringing it up.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, simply filled with a dejected sadness you aren’t able to stifle.

Astarion lifts his head, which had settled back in the armchair’s plush comfort. His words are solemn, honest. “Unlike the rest of our former companions, Gale is still alive. It is his story to tell, if he wishes.”

It makes sense, but you still feel the guilt of hurting him in the pit of your stomach. Not unlike the guilt you felt rehashing Astarion’s past memories. “Can you at least tell me this? How did they die?”

“Old age,” Astarion supplies. “And before you ask, no, they weren’t an elf. They won’t be popping up on his doorstep unannounced like some kind of bookish ghost.”

“He never considered extending their lifespan? There are plenty of–”

“No,” Astarion interrupts, looking at you with tired eyes. “They didn’t want that, and he respected their wishes. An extended life isn’t for the faint hearted.”

You gulp, feeling the guilt bubble up again at the question you inevitably want to ask, once more afraid of hurting Astarion. “And is that how you feel?”

“I don’t know anymore.” His words are quieter, barely loud enough for you to hear, and you can’t read his expression as his head ducks. His head is back up a moment later, a nervous little smile playing on his lips. “Well, if you have much more left to unpack, I actually meant to have a word with Gale. Shall we meet you downstairs?”

“Oh, sure,” you respond, pushing your guilt and curiosity back down. You suspect you already know what he wants to talk to Gale about. “I’ll be down shortly.”

When you do arrive downstairs shortly, neither man is present. I doubt they’ll be done any time soon, you think, beginning to poke around the room. I’ll find something to read while I wait.

That’s how you find yourself perusing through Gale’s carefully curated selection of waiting room books. And sweet hells is it curated well. It’s all you can do to keep from bouncing off the walls.

After picking up and dismissing several books, you settle on one that truly interests you. “Is this a first edition of Elameth's Compendium?” you ask no one in particular, flipping through the pages of a large, red tome. In it, the elven enchanter Elameth details a variety of magical artifacts, how to craft them, and how to dismantle them.

You’re surprised to receive a response as you flip the pages. “Oh my yes. Mr. Dekarios is quite fond of that particular compendium.”

Your head snaps up at a familiar voice, a feminine, unaffected voice, distinctly posh in its lilt. When you turn toward its source, you look down to see a small, cat-like creature peering up at you. “Tara?” you ask.

“I am she, yes,” the small, but proud creature says, tilting her head at you. “And who, may I ask, are you to be rifling through Mr. Dekarios’ books?”

She doesn’t seem mad at you, rather quite curious as her large green eyes inspect you. Will she believe you as easily as Gale did? Her eyes are staring at you so intently that your voice catches a bit as you begin to talk, “I– I am–”

“Ah, I see it now, my dear,” the tressym says, taking a few steps toward you with her feline-like gait. “No need to explain yourself. You’re Mr. Dekarios’ old friend, aren’t you? You look a tad different, but then again, so do most people that have died before.”

You blink, surprised at how little you needed to say for her to recognize you. “Yes, that’s me. How did you know?”

“A lady’s intuition, darling,” she says, lifting her head proudly a bit. “However, you also have that same air about you. Mr. Dekarios will be quite pleased to see you again.”

“We, erm, re-met each other earlier today,” you say, closing the book in your hands and turning to the tressym. “How have you been, Tara?”

“Very well, thank you for asking,” she bows her head a bit in acknowledgement. “You are far more polite than that wicked vampire you call a mate. Thank goodness you’re back, if only for that pale man’s sake.”

You laugh, vaguely recalling some of Astarion’s previous encounters with Tara. They got along about as well as two opposing felines would. “Has he been very difficult without me?”

“Oh yes,” she says, and her wings shuffle a bit in discomfort. “Nigh impossible to deal with. I don’t know how Mr. Dekarios puts up with him.”

You’re about to ask another question when her ears perk up, shoot back. “Well now, it seems like he and Mr. Dekarios are on their way to you. I am still working on preparations for the celebration, so do keep Mr. Dekarios occupied until I have need of him.”

You’d already planned on thoroughly distracting the wizard with questions about his tower and are only too happy to keep the tressym pleased. “Of course, Tara.”

She purrs a hum of approval before turning around. With a “ta-ta, darling” she leaves you waiting for the imminent arrival of Gale and Astarion.

The two arrive from behind the blue, velvet curtain less than a minute later. “Oh hello,” you say, looking at them from over the book you’d reopened.

Astarion looks to be in a better mood, though Gale looks distinctly less happy. It’s Astarion who speaks first, “Hello, darling. Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

The warmth of his words comes as a bit of a surprise. You look back to Gale, who is smiling at you sadly. I see , you think. Astarion thinks Gale will convince you to leave your project be– that he can grow attached to you now because you won’t be leaving him in the lurch. No matter, you think. This changes nothing for me.

So you respond with the same enthusiasm, “Not at all! I was just looking through the excellent book selection you have, Gale.” You hold up the red tome in your hand and his expression immediately lights up once again.

“Elameth's Compendium! Why, we used that book in your prior life, don’t you remember?” he says, his crow’s feet becoming more pronounced as he smiles.

You shake your head. “Unfortunately not. I didn’t receive every memory. And admittedly…” You look at Astarion who is looking at you rather smugly, knowing exactly what you’d told him multiple times now. The smug look will certainly only get worse with your words, but you also want to discuss your memories with Gale, as the sage and scholar that he is. “Most of my reveries were about Astarion.”

At that, Gale looks between the two of you, a pensive hand stroking his beard. “Fascinating,” is all that he offers.

“Yes,” you agree, ready to provide more information, to receive any and all theories he has about you and your memories. But, of course, the subject of your memories refuses to be excluded for long.

“Maybe if your evenings researching together were less dreadfully dreary you might have dreamt of more of them,” Astarion offers with a flip of his hand. “Now, shall we begin with the tea or the tour?”

The three of you decide to begin with a tour. 

Gale leads the way, his mane of long, white hair guiding your path forward. As a tour guide, he’s clearly well practiced, describing each room in detail, explaining its purpose, and even peppering in the odd anecdote or memory from your past life.

You go through a sauna, heated with fire runes. You walk past his actual library, filled head to toe with books of all kinds. You drop by his study, and its sweet scent of ink trails after you. An astronomy room, a storage room, a dining room, a sitting room– you begin to wonder how tall this tower truly is from its exterior. Gale explains that he’s had to renovate a few dozen times over the years, to ensure that the tower’s magic remains stable. As such, rooms come and go with a few, necessary exceptions.

Even among all of these extraordinary rooms, a few stand out to you, clear gems in the wizard's remarkable living space.

“This is the alchemy room, where I grow plants and create my various concoctions! I’m quite proud to say that you’ll find some plants that grow even on the other side of Faerûn. I’ve created many an interesting tonic– I’d exercise some caution if you find yourself in here. Why one time…” He trails off into a story about how Tara turned purple for a week. She was not amused, apparently.

“And this is the experimentation room, where I bring anything that may be dangerous to test. There are a variety of different materials for me to test spells and artifacts on, and the room is warded with a wide assortment of protection wards to make sure that the rest of the tower is unaffected. It certainly is helpful when it comes to any errant magic, wouldn’t you say Astarion?” The look Astarion shoots him is that of a man who has seen one too many Fireballs in his life.

“Now this is the enchanting room, where I create magical artifacts. Now this includes your customary garden-variety fare, but I do have the opportunity to create a few rarer objects, such as the sunlight rings that I craft for the spawn. You'll find that I boast all types of spell components and even have a few specialized work benches, infused with various magical properties.”

You want to stay in this room for hours, you want to look through each and every book, peruse the shelves, test out the recipes that are strewn about the place. But you hold back, merely asking Gale a few questions about where he sources his materials, whether or not he had a bench for each school of magic, and how long it took to create a sunlight ring.

Easier questions answered, you eventually ask him, “Is this where we worked on our ring designs together?”

Gale takes a quick glance at Astarion before nodding. “Yes, precisely. That’s exactly the type of thing we used to work on.”

You elect to ignore his word choice, pressing on, “I had a dream about that just last night. We’d settled on a ring made of silver, it had slotting for an inlay along its edge.”

Recognition passes over Gale’s eyes before he bows his head wearily. “One of the last times we spoke. That was our most promising candidate.”

You already know that much. Despite the way Astarion’s eyes tighten around the corners, the way that Gale’s sadness creases his mouth around his beard, you continue, “I had an idea I would love to speak to you about. Would you have time before your birthday festivities?”

The wizard’s head lifts back up, the sadness reaching his eyes now. “I think it’s best if we leave that part of our past behind us, wouldn’t you say?”

Luckily, you’d prepared for such a response, expecting it. From your memories, from understanding who he is, what Astarion might have said to him, you think you know just what to say. “I wouldn’t. At least, not until I figure out one last thing. I have memories of the necromancer’s notes. Untouched, unbloodied, but undeciphered. I just need someone to delve into my mind and pull them out. If it amounts to nothing, well, maybe I could move on. But a wizard once told me, my intuition has rarely led us astray.”

Neither of your companions say anything to this, but you can tell see the wheels turning in Gale’s mind. He’d tried, just as you had, to remove the blood from the notes. He’d attempted, just as you had, to decipher what was left. Here you were, offering him the key to a century and a half’s mystery. He’d be remiss to not take you up on it. 

Astarion, for his part, is simply looking at you. His red eyes seem to glow in the enchanting room’s magical lighting. You wonder if he believes you, that this will be your final attempt to try, that you would leave it be if it amounted to nothing.

I just know it will amount to something though, you think to yourself. I refuse to let it lead nowhere, not when I feel so close.

Gale interrupts your thoughts. “Well, I shall have a think on it and let you know later. For now, let me show you both to our last stop: the kitchen! Where we can also enjoy a lovely, little morsel and a cup or two of tea.”

Musings pushed aside for now, the three of you head to the kitchens for a late lunch. With all of Gale’s commentary, Astarion’s snarky interjections, and your own questions, the tour ended up being quite a few hours. You’re ravenous by the time the tea kettle rings and Gale shuffles about his kitchen preparing an afternoon meal for you all.

“Do you need any help, Gale?” you ask, scooting your chair back, ready to get up and join the wizard as he flits back and forth.

“No need, my friend. You are a guest after all,” he assures you, with a wave. A blue, spectral hand floats behind him, opening and closing doors for him as he artfully arranges what seems to be a hearty assortment of various meats and cheeses. “I may have aged a touch, but I assure you that I am every bit the gourmet chef I have always been.”

“Right,” Astarion mutters under his breath. “Every bit as capable of giving an entire adventuring party food poisoning.”

You chuckle at Astarion’s comment, only to recall that Astarion hasn’t had a real basis for Gale’s food since his early days of pretending not to be a vampire. Since then, his main diet has consisted of blood and wine, which you haven’t seen him partake in in over a week. “Aren’t you hungry?” you whisper to the man, leaning over to him in the event that Gale shouldn’t overhear.

His red eyes meet yours, and, as always, you can see the underlying hunger in them. It’s fruitless to ask, you realize. He’ll always be hungry. 

“I’m managing. Don’t you worry about me– Focus on getting your noisy stomach to quiet down.” He shoots you a wry smile, but you can’t help but worry regardless.

“Fine, but once that’s quieted, I will be bothering you again,” you say, pointing a finger at him menacingly.

“What’s this about noisy stomachs?” Gale asks, walking over with a plate stacked full of meats, cheeses, smears, breads, and assorted fruits. Far too much food for the two of you who could eat it– Perhaps more than would feed you for a week. “Why, I have just the remedy.”

The three of you, well Gale and yourself, enjoy the feast he’s prepared for you, chattering all the while about the various things you’ve seen in his tower, what he’s gotten up to in the last hundred and fifty years, and your life back in Neverwinter. You’re surprised when even Astarion chimes in with his own questions about your current life.

You learn about Gale’s latest research. They learn about your time at the arcane college in Neverwinter. Collectively, you reminisce about times that you’ve only witnessed through dreams. 

Together you have a pleasant afternoon, one that quickly turns into evening as you continue to chat. The entire conversation and atmosphere bring about a warmth you’d missed in your ‘normal’ life. Seated at Gale’s round kitchen table like this, you can almost pretend that this is your life. Perhaps it is now.

It’s only after a small “Ahem, ahem” interrupts Gale’s latest recounting of a particularly explosive application of the Weave that you all realize how late it’s gotten. “Mr. Dekarios, I’m glad that you and your friend have gotten reacquainted, but I am afraid I require your assistance in the dining room.”

“Tara! Of course, I shall pop right on over.” Gale turns to you and Astarion, smiling at you both in turn. “Well, my friends. It seems I’m needed for the party preparations. I hope you don’t mind my absence.”

“Not at all, Gale,” you respond, bowing your head in acknowledgement. “Hosting is plenty of work without my showing up here unaccounted for.”

“Nonsense!” Gale cries, standing up from his chair with a few creaking bones. “Why this may be the best birthday present I’ve ever received.”

His words sound so genuine, his smile so sincere, that you nearly miss what he’s said. A birthday present. Oh gods, I need to get him a present. “Say, Gale,” you say, catching his attention before he leaves. “When is the party proper?”

“Oh, right.” He gives a lighthearted chuckle, looking at Astarion as he does so. “You’ll forgive me for the befuddling schedule– it’s the only way I can ensure Astarion actually shows up on time. You know how he likes to avoid people.”

“Not to worry, I understand.” You snicker, only to earn an indignant elbow from Astarion. 

Gale looks between you two knowingly, and you feel your face flush under his sympathetic eyes. “Well, let’s see…” The man begins a countdown on his fingers. “Including tonight, the party is in five nights.”

“Oh!” you breath out, surprised. Plenty of time to explore the city, to hopefully speak to Gale, and, most importantly, acquire a present for him. “Sounds lovely. Thank you, Gale.”

“My pleasure,” he says. “I shall see you two on the morrow then.” Gale gives you both one last wink before following Tara out of the kitchen.

That’s how you and Astarion are left alone once more. The silence that settles between you is all at once easy and yet deeply uncomfortable. You want to fill it with something, but what can you say? That you know he wants Gale to dissuade you from your goals? That you haven’t known a peace like this in your entire lifetime and you’re afraid it isn’t meant to be yours?

Whatever it is, you need to say something, to fill the silence. You turn toward him in your seat and begin, “Astarion–”

“Darling, I–”

You both stop before you start, realizing that you’re interrupting each other. You’re the first to collect your bearings. “Go ahead, Astarion.”

He smiles at you and the tenderness in his eyes is difficult to miss, catching you off guard. “I just wanted to thank you.” When you only offer him a puzzled look, he elaborates, “For coming with me. I know it was a bit of a gamble for you after, well, everything. But this is already proving to be more… tolerable, than most years.”

His words spark a tingle in your chest, cause a warmth to bloom on your cheeks. It’s a compliment of sorts, and one that you weren’t expecting to receive. Given his sullen attitude and snarky comments, you’d expected a half-sarcastic, ‘This has been riveting.’

But the man never fails to surprise you. So you’re left speechless, nodding at his thanks, unsure of how to accept them.

“Now, what had you wanted to say, darling?” he asks, expression back in a confident mask, as if his words hadn’t just blanketed you in a deluge of emotions.

What had you meant to say? Right. You had wanted to fill in the silence, which seems almost banal in the wake of his sincere thanks. You comb through your own thoughts as quickly as you can, trying to find a reason to speak, to answer his expectant gaze.

“Would you like some blood?”

He blinks at you and you blink back, as if neither of you had expected you to say this. His response comes a moment later, a bit guarded, “I suppose I could use a snack. But with all of the day’s travel and your rather delicate constitution, are we sure that’s the best idea, darling?”

It may not have been your first or most pressing thought, but now that you’ve said it, you realize that feeding him is still quite important to you. So you press on. “I’ll be fine. It’s plenty late and I’ll be able to sleep off any ill effects,” you assure him.

“In that case, perhaps we first head back to our room? That way I won’t have to carry your limp body up several flights of stairs.” His use of ‘our’, his quick acceptance of your offer, it all feels so surreal. Maybe that’s what friendship means to him, but it’s sending you and your body mixed signals.

Either way, you agree without argument, and you both head back to your shared quarters.

Once you’re standing in the center of the room, you ask, “Where would you like me?” 

Astarion raises a suggestive eyebrow at you. “Oh, you absolute fiend. Here I was, thinking that a bite on the wrist was already quite intimate.”

“Astarion,” you chide, ignoring the way his low, sultry voice sets your skin alight. “I meant, would you prefer the bed, the couch, maybe a chair?”

“How dull, darling. The bed then,” he says, gesturing toward the yet untouched plush, blue bedding. 

You follow his direction and sit on the bed. After taking a quick breath, you get to work, rolling up the sleeve of your robe for him and exposing the tender flesh of your wrist to him. “Here you are,” you say, holding out your wrist to him as he takes a spot next to you.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, taking hold of your wrist, angling it back and forth between his cold fingers, as if trying to find just the right spot to bite.

“What’s the matter?” you ask, after the third rotation.

“It’s nothing, dear,” he says, fingers trailing the line of veins extending from your wrist. With his soft touch shocking your brain into submission, you barely register his words as he continues, “I was thinking, perhaps, I might need to bite a bit more carefully to keep you from growing faint again. I’m afraid I had rather gotten used to biting that delectable neck in your past-life.”

You gulp and you’re certain that the sound is audible to you both. “Is that so? Would you… prefer a neck?”

“Don’t you worry your lovely little head, darling,” he says, bending his head over your wrist. “I shall manage.”

You’re about to protest, to insist that he’s allowed to bite your neck, even as your heart pounds brutally in your chest at the thought– but his fangs sink in before a word can escape your lips and you’re left huffing out a small sigh.

Astarion’s lips smile against your wrist, and, were it not for the kind consideration he’d just shown you, you may have smacked him on his beautiful silver head for it.

Much like the previous times he’s had a nibble, his seemingly involuntary hums are more the source of your lightheadedness than anything else. The deep rumble that sounds from his chest sends your heart into a frenzied rhythm that your blood just can’t appear to keep up with.

Calm down, you think, imagining images of still water, light breezes, soft cats. Calm down or you will fall back again. Nothing seems to be working to quiet your pounding heart and, as you look at the angle of his nose, the soft curve of his cheek, you can feel your breath catching, your vision blurring.

No, you repeat to yourself. He will starve himself if it means you don’t get injured, keep yourself together. You’re startled by how accurate the thought sounds to your own mind. You knew he cared about you, but had you ever really sat down and understood the depth of it? However, you don’t have time to think about the implications of his concern because your world is beginning to spin.

Breathe, you command of yourself. You take a deep breath. 

Another, you think, and you feel your eyes start to focus as fresh air enters your body. 

Two large breaths later and you’re feeling significantly better– your heart is still racing, but the room has stilled and your body feels your own again. Just in time too, as you feel Astarion take one last drink from your veins, remove his fangs, and breathe a sigh of bliss onto your skin. 

When he pulls back to look at you, the flush on his face, the pink on his ears is still somehow worth the miserable feeling of blood loss. “So darling,” he says, licking his blood-stained lips. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine,” you say, smiling at him with the best, least exhausted grin you can manage. Certainly better than you have after your previous feedings. “Though I do think it is your fault that I feel faint sometimes.”

“Really?” Astarion asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Well,” you start, not sure how to approach the issue with him, but needing to tell him all the same. “I think it’s the noises you make while you feed. My heart just, erm, panics a bit.”

Astarion looks at you with a blank expression. “Noises?”

Ah, so they are involuntary. “Yes, the mmm’s and the hmm’s and the–”

“Stop that.” Astarion raises a hand up to your face, placing it over your mouth. When you look toward him to see what could be the matter, you see that a blush covers his cheeks, that the tips of his ears have turned a deep red. “I– I thought I’d stopped doing that years ago.”

It’s as if time stills. You struggle with your confused, nervous thoughts as you register his embarrassment, the words he’s said.

Astarion is blushing, your brain thinks.

Of course, the rational part of you counters. He’s just fed, he’s going to have some blood in his system for a while.

But he’s blushing because of something I said, you supply.

Your mind goes blank at the thought.

You’re grateful that you can’t reply to Astarion, not with his hand over your mouth, because you’re not certain what is liable to come out of it at the moment. 

Luckily, Astarion continues to speak, not releasing your face, “Well, I apologize for the noises. I’ll try to control that. In the meanwhile, why don’t we get ready for bed? It’s been a long day.”

You nod into his hand, after which he removes it from your mouth. His face continues to have a touch of pink, and his eyes refuse to meet yours. You can hardly be bothered by it, because the only things running in circles in your mind are the feel of Astarion’s hand on your face, the sight of his perfectly blushed cheeks, and the fact that, somehow, despite everything, he still cares about your well-being.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You end up having to take a quick bath to clear your mind, and you both get ready for bed separately. However, at the end of the day, you both wind up in the same, immense bed after all is said and done.

You thought that maybe something big would happen. Perhaps that he would recoil from you. Or worse, grab onto you. Maybe that the earth would open up and swallow you both. But nothing of the sort happens.

You both simply lay down, tuck yourselves in a variety of soft blankets, rest your heads on the best down pillows magic can conjure, and remain several feet apart on the massive bed.

Much like last night, Astarion puts out the lantern next to the bed and whispers to you, “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

There’s simply no way that your reverie will take you tonight, of that you’re sure. You’re convinced of it, because all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, the muffled breath you take when you try to be quiet. But eventually, against all odds, your trance does overtake you.

That night as you enter your reverie, you blink your eyes open to a familiar inn.

Again, the establishment is dead, not a soul in sight in this remote village. And, as always, the innkeep reaches down into their front desk, pulling out another book.

It looks to be a book that they’ve already started– a bookmark is placed about halfway through its pages. The cover is mostly plain, a black leather with a large tower embossed in the center. In the smallest script you catch the title before they open the book, “The Midnight Tower and its Master.”

The innkeep flips open to their current page and begins to read… 

When you wake up from your reverie a few hours later, you sit up with a gasp, a hand clutching at your chest in surprise.

Next to you, Astarion stirs, looking at you with a drowsy concern. “Darling, are you alright?”

“I–I’m fine,” you say, taking several deep breaths. “I dreamt of the tower.”

[fuesch]

Agatha All Along 1x06

Oh, look who's confirmed to be Jewish. Now everybody who's been prematurely ranting can chill. Yay!

It's a magick mitzvah even. Is that an actual thing or are they witchy Jews.

A golden lion embroidered on that dark fabric - I'd love to be normal, but how can I when it reminds me of the silver tigers on the jacket we first saw Peter in?!

WTF, Billy's dad looks like a bearded version of Director Hayward to me. Those eyes are way too similar.

Billy's met Lilia before?! Okay, so he's not Billy M. yet and the way Lilia is talking makes it seem there'll be no merging of the Billys, the original B. Kaplan will actually die. How depressing.

I can't believe the sigil came from Lilia! And why?!

Whoa, the Hex exists already. The original Billy K. only just got that prediction from Lilia and has so little time left. There wasn't much "now" to enjoy anymore. D:

Whoa, Wanda had even broadcast on radio! AFAIR I never thought about that other people might pick up that signal! There must be some out there still watching with antenna or dish, who have actually seen Wanda's show.

Oh, his parents actually call him William. Well, that's a nice way to differentiate the characters without involving last names.

Alice!

If nothing is physically wrong with Billy, does that mean he has healing powers?

Poor freshly reincarnated Billy having a really bad and confusing time. And his new parents as well. :o(

Billy and Eddie making out - I'm slightly scared of going into that AAA tag now, there'll be so many disappointed Agatha/Rio shippers who thought it would be their ship doing the smooching.

"Nothing in my life has felt normal until I met you." Awwwww.

Woah, I'm starting to think there was actually something to those theories about ep 5 being Billy's trial. In his room are the Eastview pennant and the chain of tetraeder-covered lights we saw in the trial house.

A "trans lives matter" poster in Billy's room. Of course he's a good boy.

Ooh, Billy did some research. "Strange occurences persist to haunt Westview residents" Interesting, tell me more!

Avengers training exercise gone wrong. Uh huh.

I didn't watch the mid-season trailer, but saw a cap on Twitter. The quality wasn't great (which kept me from brightening it in Photoshop, as there was nothing more to see), but I did see some hair sticking out from under the hat. Hey, you know who has somewhat long hair? And that outfit is so unlike Peter, that it's gotta be his disguise. Today I saw a post on my Twitter timeline linking to an article about Mr. Bucket Hat's identity and couldn't resist. I held the mouse over the link to read the URL and had my confirmation. So I changed my plans and instead of doing preparations for stuff, I watched the episode.

Was super excited when I saw that the episode link on D+ is a cap of Billy & boyf in an underground garage. Which, you know, is the place where one would meet someone who's hiding their identity. And despite seeing this announced in that cap, I can't believe it's Billy meeting Peter. I mean, they're multiverse family, they've met before, yet neither knows this, ARGH!

What was Mr. Bucket Hat throwing and then putting in his pocket? My first thought is something with a sigil on it, but then he wouldn't remember Westview.

Bohnerrific69. Sorry, I LOLed way too loudly. But should you use that name when you're hiding from the authorities and maybe others?!

IS THAT WHAT THE BEARD WAS FOR?!?!

"Randall" isn't any better, Randy! Somebody give this man some help coming up with aliases!

"Bub"? Hmmmmm… boy, do I wonder where Horny Stiffy picked up that word. What a mystery, we shall never know.

OMFG, Peter, what did they do to you?! The Hex was such a bad time for him that he's still having a bad time 3 years later. My poor baby. I wonder if all the protection stuff he has all over actually does something. But if not, at least it should ease his mind somewhat.

I wonder if there's anything interesting on his shirt. Anyone know what it says?

Agatha stole your house? Baby, that belonged to WitSec. Maybe he really does have a sigil, but it only works on his actual identity, not the Hex one. I mean, it looks like he's been to a witch, so maybe while there he asked to forget who he is so he wouldn't miss his old life in his own universe. Does he even know he's run away from witness protection? If not, that would explain the unwise choice of screenname.

"I was a terrible influence on Wanda and Vision's kids." No, no, you were the best uncle! That's really not something to feel guilty about.

Agatha had Peter poison Sparky! FFS, Agatha! "Woof" - "Hey!" I second Peter's comment.

Hearing Peter say speedster gave me heart tickles.

He has a one-man show! So 1. He really seems to think the identity Monica uncovered is his real one, 2. He's not hiding, WTF?! No way WitSec didn't find him. Maybe they leave him alone because he's living under an alias and his show isn't popular enough to attract attention?

Poor Billy thinking Wanda and Vision are dead. But as long as he can't remember them, it shouldn't be that bad.

Oh, so Agatha caused disasters in the non-magical world too. And she's Jolene?!

"Fun facts: Murdered her entire coven." Fun indeed!

Billy really is on the Road for Tommy! Oh, right, as a survivor of the Witches' Road, Agatha would be very useful. I had forgotten about that.

Wait, has Agatha always been wearing that Bohner family reunion shirt ("pitch a tent" XD) when she was at home with Rio?! Dammit, I feel a mighty need for that shirt now. They better give us that merch. Never mind, thanks, @xmcu-fietro!

Okay, but that shirt means that the name wasn't a creation of the Hex, holy shit! Are you telling me WitSec seriously gave him that name? Peter must have managed to piss them off beforehand.

Joe Locke was so close to losing it in that "poking the bear" scene. But since he kept it together, they could use that take. Good for us, hee.

The actors seemed to have fun. I guess that excessive pen clicking was also improvised.

"I do not wanna go back in the closet." XD

So the sigil was still working when Billy suspected his real identity, as well as when he said it the first time to Agatha. So what would finally break it?

Agatha manages to free herself from the mud. And what about Lilia and Jen?

Billy with the hoodie of shame. He's really is so much like his mom.

"It's nice to see you again, Billy." The soft way she says it sounds like she means it. Did she always like the Minimoffs or did she just decide to adopt him because she had suspected him to be Nicky?

Huh, the sigil is broken, but I don't understand how. Sure, Billy just crushed it the thing it was on, but that won't have done it. Ugh, I have no patience, dig up Lilia and make her answer my question!

Just after the topic of body count, Agatha asks where Billy got his new body. Whoa, what if he thinks he killed William? I mean, maybe she does, but I hope he doesn't.

"all that power you can't control without throwing a temper tantrum." Your multiverse grandpa would be so proud!

"She chose a town full of strangers over her own flesh and wires." I mean, she kinda had to take down the Hex, there wasn't much choice, Agatha. Not to mention that witch that nagged her into it.

Tommy is out there, Billy can sense him! *mewl*

"Gosh, you really are a Maximoff. Otherwise none of this would be nearly as dramatic." XD But this is why we love them!

The pathetic way I was waiting for Evan Peters (huh, look at #6 being the Peter episode again) to show up in the credits in hopes of getting hints about the character from the background image. It's just the Westview map with the Hex.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

ok what about a reader who keeps dying and reincarnating a few years in the past, and they keep trying to fix everything but it doesn’t work.

And the like 20th time all of the other mutants somehow remember all the other times as well?

I don’t mind what media you pick, any is cool :)

(I feel like you may have written something like this already and I’m really sorry if you did)

Oooo! Yes, you requested an au idea! Let's try it:

The farthest back you can remember is about... the 1800s... In a place full of trees, mountains, and endless snow, all locked in freezing valleys and forests. The first two mutants you met then were a pair of brothers, one tall and blonde, one short and fluffy. For the short time you were around, you were with them. In dens abdoned by large animals, cuddled together in the dead of night... By lakes and rivers, catching the bounty of summer... Drifting through the woods, tracking the herds of deer as they moved... Until one day, a group of hunters shot you, and you were gone-

Only to come to in a European country, filled with mad, angry people and a war growing bloodier by the day. You met a boy who controlled metal, and did your best to cheer him up. Then within a month, you were taken to a chamber, and then-

You're back in a new time, in a new place. This time around you grow a bit older, meeting a man who is a professor, who tries to help everyone and foster peace... and then there is the boy you had met in that cold, dreary past, now a man. The two are friends, partners, and they both want what's best- but in two entirely different ways, down two opposite paths. You last long enough to watch them split apart, and soon pass on from a bullet through the chest...

And the cycle keeps repeating.

You come into the world, only to remember your past lives, and try to make things different. Try to change the paths of the people you used to know.

You meet so many people. So many mutants.

Logan. Victor. Erik. Charles. Raven. Hank. Ororo. Scott. Jean. Remy. Piotr. Lance. Pietro. Wanda. Kitty. Fred. Todd. Anna. Kurt. Evan.

So many lives, so many ways it goes wrong.

It comes to a head when you've reincarnated into your latest life, finally living to be fifteen. You've never lived that long before. Never explored technology the way you can now. Never enjoyed the years without fear or weariness.

You miss being near the people you used to know. But... this time, maybe you should give them some space. The last few times you tried to interfere, you've only ended up dying. Be it by blade or bullet or poison, drowning or asphyxiation or crushed bones... You don't get to stay long, and they never believe you anyway. Even with proof. Even with knowledge no one else but you could know.

Logan lost his memories. Victor became more violent, more ruthless. Erik has embraced the darkness inside him, choosing to fight for mutant supremacy, rather than Charles' path of equality between the two. Raven followed Erik, doing wicked deed after wicked deed. Hank's a teacher now. Ororo has joined Charles and Logan as their friend. And you're a few years younger than the teens. You died in a accident when they were only about four years old, so they likely wouldn't remember you either.

Yet...

The moment they see you... Something seems to change with them. Something new.

When they look at you, it's like they're trying to figure something out. Like something isn't sitting right with them. It only seems to grow when one day the Professor and Logan show up due to the teens breaking out into a fight, and they see you pass by. For a moment it looks like they wanted to ask you something-

But you keep walking.

The next time you're on your own, you're approached. It's one of the older mutants, with a wary, almost fragile look to them.

"Do you know of anyone named-"

They ask for one of your old names, and there's only one answer you can give-

"Yes. Hey, love. It's been some time, hasn't it?" you answer softly.

And then you're being hugged tightly, pulled against them like you'll disappear. And you think that maybe-

Maybe this time you all will be okay.

(You don't notice their eyes darkening, the way their hands curl tighter, how they don't stop checking the pulse underneath their fingertips. They lost you once, and this time-

This time they aren't going to risk you again. Not their friend, not their loved one, not their sunshine. They're not sure they can go through losing them one more time... They won't make it if they do.)

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐄! 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

NOTE: I'm currently in Lesson 68 & Lesson 46(Hard) so if there's an answer to most of these questions and theories in further lessons then please let me know in the comments.

WARNING: SPOILERS, loads of 'em

Addressing the Elephant in the Room

LILITH's LOVER / HIS IMMORTALITY / HIS PACT

— IMMORTALITY.

In Lesson 36-C, Solomon himself tells us that his immortality stemmed from tricking a grim reaper from collecting his soul by playing a game that he knows he can outwit them (thanks to the Ring of Wisdom). It's not because of the fruit Lilith died for. Additionally, the fruit was supposed to HEAL her lover from the incurable sickness, not make them immortal.

But I like to headcanon he got his immortality because of his own cooking💀

— BEING LILITH'S LOVER.

It doesn't make sense. I don't want to outwardly call out the people who believe this theory, but think about it. With the given information thus far, Solomon being Lilith's lover makes a whole bunch of plot holes.

People think he's Lilith's lover mainly for his immortality, which I already steer clear in the first one.

Had he been Lilith's lover, Asmodeus would've recognize him on the night he made a pact with him.

But no, Asmodeus claims he first met Solomon when he was in the Human Realm getting drunk and that was also the night he woke up learning he made a pact with Solomon without his knowledge.

Obey Me developers tend to follow most canon stuff in the Bible with a few differences to make their story (e.t. Lilith being Lucifer's sister instead of lover) and if they applied the cannon timeline in the Bible then Solomon should be around 1000 B.C which is a huge gap of time between the supposed 3,000-4000 B.C when the Celestial War occured.

How do I know this? Well, I'm only speculating.

In Lesson 11, Mammon claims to be around 5,000 yrs old and it seems to me that the brothers spent most of their life in the Devildom than the Celestial Realm. I think 1,000-2,000 yrs (i'm following Mammon's age in this because the brothers ages are not mentioned) in Celestial is a good time before the War broke out.

If Solomon is indeed Lilith's lover then the Brothers and Solomon would've had more tension brewing; Belphie will cuss him out in every second he has. Lucifer once said that Lilith's lover WAS A GOOD MAN. And we all know Lucifer thinks of Solomon anything but a good man, one of the minor reason was probably because Solomon tricked Asmodeus into forging a pact with him. Not a trait you'd see on a good man.

In conclusion, if Solomon is Lilith's lover, the brothers should've more familiarity toward Solomon. Not just some shady sorcerer who can massacre the whole demon race with his cooking.

I like to think Solomon met Lilith as a human reincarnate and he probably knew just by looking at her. I mean, he's the smartest of all humankind, he knew MCs name before they introduced themselves, that's saying something.

Or. . .

There was a love triangle going on between him and Lilith's lover.

In Lesson 36, Solomon vaguely mentions his failed love all the way back in his youth. Perhaps. . . it has something to do with Lilith? Lilith chose the other human over him. Le cries.

The love triangle was probably not a big deal at that time so it didn't reach Lucifer's ears.

Solomon also tells us he's not a big fan of romance, he was probably curiosity what love was all about at that time and felt the puppy love brewing with Lilith.

But as you can see in his GIF, there's a bittersweet smile in his face.

I interpret this as both of sweet that he's not suffering from loss as much as her closed ones but also bitter that even if he hasn't fell deeply for her he still lost a friend.

— HIS PACTS.

It's canon that he has over 70 demon pacts, including Asmodeus and Barbatos. Now Asmodeus forging a pact with Solomon isn't really that surprising for me regardless of what happened behind the scene.

What I personally want to know is the pact of Barbatos.

Around Lesson 50+ Barbatos revealed that Solomon managed to summon him even though he's on the brink of life and death because summoning a powerful demon such as himself can take a toll in a mortal's body. When MC asks why he would do such thing, Barbatos replied along the lines "He must be desiring something that death can't stop him from doing so."

What was it? What did Solomon want that he doesn't even consider death as an obstacle to achieve it? And mind you, Barbatos described it as if Solomon was DESPERATE.

Have you guys seen this old man being desperate to the point of dying? Imagine lesson 16, but with Solomon, and not dying. Yeah, I don't think so. This man far too smart for his own good. If summoning Barbatos is considered as his last resort then you know it's serious.

DIAVOLO'S MOTHER / BARBATOS

— DIAVOLO'S MOM.

Many people speculate Dia's mom is a human which is why he's so abnormally fond of the humans.

I mean, when do you hear the mom dying of child birth in these fantasy settings? Oh yeah, when their body couldn't handle supernatural fetus hence taking their life (e.t. Bella Swan)

If she was just another Demoness then there's no apparent reason why she shouldn't have survived childbirth unless there was unprecedented circumstances she couldn't avoid.

I'm completely sold to this theory. That's all there is to say.

— BARBATOS.

I've never seen someone so enigmatic, serious, devoted like this mf right here then be scared of some rodents. I'd understand if it's spiders or roaches, but rats? Yeah, understandable. Solomon probably threatened Barbatos to forge a pact with him if he doesn't want to get the rats.

Moving on, it was explicitly mentioned that Barbatos was never a child, meaning he just popped out fully grown. Where? I don't know, maybe he was created by some Demon similar to the Angels being created by the Father? It is also said that Barbatos is so powerful that it even rivals the Demon King himself.

Where did this mf came from???

The MV

SIMEON'S DEMOTION / SATAN / SOLOMON and the ATTIC

— DEMOTION.

Not only the brothers complete demotion from being Angels, Simeon was also demoted from being a Seraph, the Highest Ranking of Angels. It wasn't specified what he did to warrant him such punishment, but we'll probably get our answers soon.

If I were to speculate what he did based on his compassionate personality, he probably helped Lucifer and the brothers in some way that left them unscathed except Lilith.

In Season 3 Lessons, we got to know Simeon's in depth sentiment toward the brothers. He cares deeply for them and misses the time of Celestial realm where the brothers were still there.

The Angels were having the thoughts of eliminating the brothers and their treacherous sister, and they did except for the brothers.

And Simeon is probably behind the brother's safety.

Simeon is somehow similar to MC, kind and compassionate, even after learning Lilith's attempt to steal the fruit and the brother's rebellion, he probably had the thought of joining them.

But Simeon is also a righteous person who obey the rules and value himself, so he couldn't possibly join them. He lacks the courage to act to what he really wants. He's torn between his compassion and values.

The farthest thing he could've done was to discreetly aid them.

But somehow along the process, he wasn't discreet enough.

— SATAN.

One of the hints given in the stream was 'Satan and his brothers' and many people jumped to theorize something about that. All of the theories have been remarkably on point, some of which I don't understand how they correlate to Satan.

As simple as the statement is, I think the game will be focusing on the development of Satan and His Brothers after the Fall.

But then again, when did OM became very simple?💀 I kinda understand why people would go crazy over this.

In my standpoint, they chose to categorize Satan as single than the rest because Satan was never an angel, he was born Demon the moment he made a noise for the first time.

It may sound cruel, but I'm only stating facts.

Satan is by far one of the most mysterious character in OM. All of the brothers already have back stories in the Celestial Realm but Satan is a demon born out Lucifer's hatred.

'Satan and His Brothers' probably will focus on the times when Satan is still learning about the world AND HIS BROTHERS.

Yes, he mentioned he has seen the world and his brothers through Lucifer's eyes but it's only in fragments.

Now he has his own sets of eyes to see the world and to learn more about his brothers.

THIS IS THE START OF HIS STORY and HIS BROTHERS.

— SOLOMON and the ATTIC.

This sounds so random and by far the most out of the plot hint, not gonna lie. I thought OM has totally lost it. When I first read this I thought of the Attic Club but with Lilith in it. Perhaps Solomon is acquainted with the twins and Lilith?

This brings me to my theory that maybe Solomon is in a love triangle with Lilith's and her lover.

I don't even know what I'm writing at this point. OM is driving me nuts! I just want to know when will it release.

edit on the same day ;

According to @simply-chaotic-richness in the comments, it's not actually Solomon and the Attic but rather 'Solomon under the same roof' which is more confusing if I may add.

Whose roof are we talking about here? Do the devs even mean this as literally or figuratively? Or maybe both?

I think I'll still stick to my understanding that maybe it has something to do with the brothers.

Maybe Solomon had to take care of Satan once and teach him what he knows, hence his intelligence, but only for a brief period of time, short enough to spark Satan's curiosity and indulge himself in the world of knowledge. I'd like to see that.

THE FORESIGHT

— FORESIGHT.

We all know Barbatos can see through the past and future. He can also make portals through different locations, even opening a portal from a different timeline. He's strong, that much is obvious. Diavolo has to make a rule for Barbatos to never use his ability unless he deemed necessary.

With that, I think we can all theorize that Barbatos must have predicted the Fall and Diavolo thought it's a good idea to help Lucifer to pledge his loyalty to him.

Why? Diavolo was still in his prime back that day, he was still trying to manage Devildom after the absence of his father. He also has the strong desire to unite all three realms by all means, and to do that he has to gather more allies and build connection.

LOTAN

Y'all probably didn't expect that, did you? Everyone's been talking about the details of the Trailer, but no one has ever been curious how Leviathan met Lotan.

In the main story, Lotan rarely appears, he only appears for comedic purpose which I think is quite funny and dumb. I've been trying to catch up in the Hard mode in hopes to get that fresh lore about Lotan, but there wasn't really anything useful, I don't think he ever appears in the Hard Levels.

Similar to Cerberus, only one person can command and tame him; Lucifer. This also applies to Lotan whose master is Leviathan.

With the new hints given to us, it's safe to say we'll be getting closure on the things we want to know regarding Lotan.

I just want to say that maybe after the Fall, Levi must have ended up near bodies of water and met Lotan along the way.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄; there you have it. i'm only expressing my humble thoughts so if you think it clashes with your theory then i have no qualms to anyone who wants to state their own theories. i really love having these type of talks, all i ask is for everyone to be humble in the comments. I'll be glad to entertain anyone.

[yuseirra]

Let me just.. jot this down before I forget. IF THIS IS TRUE, IT'S REALLY INTERESTING. WE CAN GET A HAPPY ENDING.

Remember how in 140 Hikaru questions whether if he's doing the right thing or not, and in the following chapter, we find Ai stands up for his sake, telling his perpetrator that he's still an age where he's trying to figure out what's right and what's wrong? He started out very sweet and noble, but he was also very naive, and that made him prey to all the malice in the industry, he ended up heavily afflicted by it and became confused about whether what he'd been facing was really right or wrong.

If this boy is the embodiment/reincarnation of Sarutahiko, HE'S THE GOD WHO'S SUPPOSED TO GUIDE PEOPLE INTO THE RIGHT PATHS. AND HE'S BEEN TAINTED BEFORE HE WAS EVEN ABLE TO FIND THAT OUT. KNOWING WHAT'S "RIGHT" AND "GOOD" WAS ESSENTIAL FOR HIM ESPECIALLY, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HIS POWERS ARE SUPPOSED TO DO. It got ruined because of the industry he was put in and the abuses he's faced from childhood. That's why everything around him is becoming twisted and worse, the adults around him caused him to be unaware of such aspects and broke him down. Maybe he awakened to his powers even more strongly after having reached adulthood. But by that time, he was already unable to function the way he should have, and Tsukuyomi must have been assigned to get rid of him before he caused even more catastrophic events. This is sad because he didn't want any of this. He could have become anything, something really beautiful, and got painfully distorted beyond saving. Ai wanted to save this guy because she knew her man's true nature. This guy was supposed to be good. Not just good, but REALLY GOOD. But perhaps it was like what Aqua had said in 159 when he went to meet him. It might have been "too late" to turn him back to the right paths, he may have lost himself upon having lost Ai.

Sarutahiko seems like a REALLY powerful god; I think.. out of all the gods that could be there in onk? The one that would be significantly stronger than him would be Amaterasu, who is Ruby, who ACTUALLY came to replace him as the next sun god. If Kamiki's been able to make all these strange turn of events a reality with his leaking powers or something..(the stuff that happens around this guy is INCREDIBLY WEIRD AND TOO MUCH TO BE DISMISSED AS PURE COINCIDENCE AT THIS RATE) RUBY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING. Several events indicate Ruby does have some sort of powers/is favored by the gods, she had things her way when she wanted it. She even mentions it herself that the gods may like her. If there's ANYONE in this series who's capable of causing supernatural events, I think it'd be Kamiki AND Ruby. Next in line would be Ai, I'm not sure about Aqua because he could not save himself when he needed it the most(deep sighs)

Theoretically, Ruby really is our hope. She's the STRONGEST out of all, and she is said to be able to save people. She's once mentioned through her own lips that they'll all be saved with her surpassing Ai(147), and Aqua was all about her "saving people through her songs if they hear it, if they just believe it"(160). If that's supposed to be some kind of foreshadowing, not just complimenting/pampering Ruby... RUBY SHOULD DO SOMETHING. I THINK SHE HAS SOME POWER WITHIN HER THAT CAN BRING SOME DIVINE INTERVENTION.

you see how Aqua said he could hear a song as he fell into the waters in 164?(Oh god I'm not reading that chapter again, it makes me distressed;;;) He heard RUBY'S SONG, DIDN'T HE. DOESN'T THAT MEAN HE CAN BE "SAVED"? Isn't that something that connects to what he's said himself in 160?? If Ruby's song's supposed to "save" people, the one person she'd WANT to save and SHOULD save should be her brother. And..oh god, I really hope they do save Kamiki too or just LET HIM MEET AI. what did he do so wrong, his life was utterly terrible. I still don't see him as the guy who'd have gone after Ai!! I think he just got distorted really bad afflicted by all the malice in the industry and that caused him to be a fallen god - with the last breaking point being Ai's death! He just let himself go after that and he must have spent all his life trying to get her back I think!! Give him a chance to be happy!!!! He never had it!!

Yup that's that~ RUBY. SHOULD DO SOMETHING. SHE'S THE ONE THAT'S BEING SAID TO BE ABLE TO SAVE PEOPLE. WE NEED IT. THE TIME IS NOW. IF SHE REALLY IS AMATERASU, WE NEED TO GET BACK TO THAT. SHE SHOULD CLIMB OUT FROM THAT CAVE SHE'S IN FOR ONCE AND SHINE AND BRING EVERYONE BACK TO LIFE, MAKE THEM HAPPY.

We actually haven't seen the video Ai's given HER. What if that gives her the power or some sort of drive to allow that to happen because if Ai IS Amenouzume, she's the one who's going to help Ruby out and make her shine when she's scared and depressed. What if Ruby watches her video that Ai's left for her sake and awakens HER power as a god to do something? Why isn't HER video shown yet?

I honestly think.. that'd be our last hope of getting some sort of happy ending, all this buildup about Ruby and her being hyped up in the story may indicate something. When all else fails, I think she's the one we could turn to. There must be a reason she's our other protagonist, but she's been very passive? in the story lately. If this whole idea of gods is relevant (and it seems like it to me because Kamiki is SO WEIRD. The stuff that happens around him, in my opinion, cannot be explained unless he IS Sarutahiko.) It's really going to be RUBY who'd shine as THE sun god. The most powerful god of all in Japanese Mythology, right? Yes. I JUST looked it up, it is the way I remember it. Amaterasu is the highest deity in Japanese mythology. Then she MUST be the one to save everyone. I'll root for her!! TURN BACK TIME OR SOMETHING, MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY. DO WHAT AMATERASU IS CAPABLE OF!!!

[q-ueen-potato]

@alexoreality here is a divergence from my "The Rising Sun AU".

All the strawhats are normal people here, just Luffy is reincarnated. I think I will call that the Straw priests AU.

In this version even before discovering that Luffy is Nika (actually even before joining the crew) the Straw Hats already believed in the sun god

Zoro: Start believing after Kuina died, Kuina's father(I forgot his name) told Zoro the story of how Nika was betrayed but even I his dead he didn't stop loving the humanity, how he give up his own freedom for us. Zoro then promised to live free, he didn't pay attention to directions because belive Nika will give him a path. So he is always lost but always arive when is needed. He live without regrets.

Nami: start believing at age 10, she heard the Arlong Pirates talking about a fairy tail about the sun god who used teached his tricks to save a enslaved child. She looked at the sun and asked for the tricks, asked for the sun god teach her how to scape.

Usopp: He becomes a believer because his mom, who was also a believer. She would tell him stories about Nika, about rainbows and sunflowers. When his mom got sick he start telling her stories about the day he would save the Sun god, that he would bring him back to free the world and be worthy of the god's blessing.

Sanji: He was in the dungeon of the Germa Castle when he learn about Nika. He saw a recipe for a meal called Sun Meat. That has it's name because the flavoring let the meat orangish and was prepared outside, using the sun to cook. Was believed that was the favorite dish of the god of freedom. Sanji promised tho cook the Sun Meat someday, promised to give it to the god of freedom if he had the chance to be free. He would even cook for the rest if his life for the sun god, he just need to be free.

Chopper: All the animals believed in Nika, is something they can't explain. They simply know he will come back one day. Because of Chopper, Hiruluk died believing and Kureha believes too(she recognized Luffy immediately even if anyone did it too).

Robin: She star believing when as a kid studying archeology. She saw the scripture, she knows that was true. She feels really bad for everything she had to do while growing up, feeling she was offending her god but somehow, when she meet Luffy she knew that Nika understood.

Franky: He start believing because Roger. When the man arrived at Water 7, he told stories to the boy about the Sun God(Roger was faithful believer and would spread to word of the sun). Something inside him clicked and he started to follow the faith, just like Nika take care of everyone, Franky decided to take care of the people while he grow(Franky Family). When he build the Sunny, inside him, he saw the Sunny as a temple to Nika. Thanking the god for free him from his mind boundaries

Brook: He star to belive after adult, at the same time he learned Bink's sake. The song come from a story, about the sun god and his kids. About the dawn and the fall. When hsi crew died Brook almost lost his faith but when he came back he said he wouldn't give up, then he lost his shadow. Was painful know that he couldn't see his god's light anymore, he thought that was his punishment for almost stop believing. But then he learned more about Moria and hated him even more. Getting his shadow back was like living dream

Jimbei: Jimbei always believed, he was raised this way. One the the Sug God would come to the Fishman Island and show the light to everyone here and that day they would finally live in the surface alongside the humans. The slavery hurted him, how could they offend Nika that way? When he was arrested in Impel Down, he thought he would never see the sun again, he would look at his tattoo and think that maybe in his death he could meet the sun god. Then Luffy showed up and he believed that Luffy is a gift from the sun god

[eris-snow]

1. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐧

Tags: Anachronism (part 1), fem!reader, fluff, reincarnation, second life, you get the drill

Shoto feels like he has seen you before. But that’s not possible. He’s never seen you in his life.

Believe it or not, it all started with one stupid celebration.

“Come on Shoto,” Ochaco whines, chasing after him into the common room. “It’s one party to celebrate the end of the war! Deku and Katsuki are finally out of the hospital and the school wants to do something fun before we get back to training—”

“I have a half-barbecued brother at home and in desperate need of a family therapist.” Shoto deadpans, escaping to the lift, but Ochaco knows him too well and corners him at the couches. Sero scoots over a seat the best he could with a banged-up leg, too absorbed in his phone to care.

“I’m not going for the dance.”

“Shoto, we’ve just won a war,” Ochaco folds her arms, looking exasperated. “Shouldn’t you take some time off to have some fun for one night before throwing yourself back into hero work?”

The one thing that Ochaco doesn’t seem to get is that Shoto despises social events. It might seem like a silly little ‘prom-came-early’ night for his friends, but it’s an extra 3 hours tops of social anxiety, awkwardness and energy that he does not want to live through. His social battery drains at a deadly fast rate, and by the end of 5 minutes inside a dimly lit room with dizzy disco lights, he’s bound to end up unlocking alcoholism two years too early to cope.

Shoto gets it. It’s been two months since they’ve pounded Shigaraki and All For One into the dust, two weeks since he was out of the hospital and three days since U.A. announced this party for the entire school. It was mostly meant for the Hero Course, but then again, the entire school had been affected, and thus was only fair that everyone could celebrate it. But after being stuck bedridden, then rehab, then coming back to find most of the city still being under construction?

To find people homeless, and have lives lost…the feeling of victory has faded into a murky grey off another ‘oh, yeah, I’ve done this’.

It feels jarring and wrong to celebrate this when so many people died.

“’ Chaco, if Icy Hot doesn’t wanna go don’t fuckin’ force him.”

Shoto lets out a sigh of relief when Katsuki slips past the front door and beelines to the kitchen, arms stuffed with groceries. Finally, a man with a conscience. Ochaco pouts and shoots him a last-ditch effort (puppy dog eyes), but with a head shake from Shoto, she finally lets it go and plops down on the sofa in defeat.

As a silent thanks, Shoto yoinks the perishables to help Katsuki restock the fridge, finding peace in knowing that the entire time his class is spent partying at Sparkly Town, he’ll be up in his room in his pyjamas with a tub of popcorn binging the final season of Attack On Titan. War does many things to people, and one of the things Shoto was introduced to was the beautiful, twisted world of anime to cure his infinite boredom on the hospital bed. (He’s highly invested, thank you very much)

It takes Shoto a second to realise that the ash blond is only rearranging what Shoto has already put into the fridge before Shoto picks up the sour envy radiating from his friend’s soul.

“Wish you were me?” He teases, placing the milk carton into one of the bottom shelves.

Katsuki scoffs, instinctively moving it to the shelving on the door. “Shut your trap, Icy Hot. You try having Izuku stare at you with those big fuckin’ puppy eyes. You wouldn’t last ten seconds.”

“I bet longer than you.”

“I call bullshit!”

Katsuki swipes the apple from Shoto’s hands and gives him a menacing glare. “He went batshit crazy when he heard about the school festival and threw a panic party for himself when Denki suggested he ask Ochaco out. What was I supposed to do? Let him die?”

“You’d think that after beating a crazy war demon, he’d be able to pull his act together to ask his year-old crush out.” Shoto chuckles, leaning against the countertop.

“Short story shorter: Someone needs to drag his sorry ass back to the dorms when he fucks his chance up again by falling on his face, and since you weren’t there at the time, he blackmailed and guilt-tripped me into going with him because he’s a wimp.” Katsuki shoves a tomato in and slams the refrigerator door before he downright hisses at Shoto. “You’re lucky.”

Shoto’s response is a smug smile. “We agreed to take turns.”

“Your turn was over 6 months ago!” Katsuki booms. He’s just about had enough, because when he stalks off to the lifts and Shoto calls out a “thank you!” for his noble sacrifice, all he gets is two middle fingers as the lift doors close dramatically.

Man, is he glad not to have a love life.

—

To everyone’s surprise, Shoto doesn’t burn down the kitchen with his popcorn shenanigans. He does, however, order a big box of the snack because of what happened in the first 5 minutes in said kitchen.

No one has to know, especially not Bakugou.

With his tub of popcorn, he shuffles to the lifts only to stop when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Uh-oh, a person. Ew.

He balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear, braces himself, and answers the phone one handedly.

“Hello?” He says, pressing his floor number and popping popcorn into his mouth.

“Shoto, thank goodness!” It’s Izuku’s voice, sheepish and awkward. “I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I was wondering if you could grab my phone? It’s on the coffee table, the one in front of the couches.”

Shoto frowns. “Aren’t you using your phone to call me now?”

“I’m calling from Kacchan’s phone. Didn’t you see when you picked up?”

Shoto’s eyes flicker to his phone screen as he rips it away from his ear. Oh.

Part of him doesn’t want to go out. Heck, he’s had enough of family outings and dinners for a good while. All he wants is to watch Eren get kidnapped for the millionth time, Levi kick some ass, and watch people die. Is that really so much to ask for?

“If it’s too much of a hassle, that’s completely fine—”

Oh, right. The call.

With a sigh and a pinch in between his eyebrows, he nods. “Swing by the entrance. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

“Sweet! Thanks Shoto! I appreciate it!”

With that, he hangs up. Shoto stares at his box of crisp, caramel popcorn. Looks like the binging will have to wait.

He drops the snack off in his room and trades his shorts for a pair of comfy sweats, throws a coat on and forces himself out of the dorms with Izuku’s phone in hand. Theoretically, the coat was not needed. He could probably walk around in the Artic and scream “Let It Go.” butt naked without a flinch.

Then again, coats are cosy, so sue him, he was wearing one.

He takes a slow walk as he takes in his surroundings, admiring the snow as it dances around him. Being alone is heaven, and Shoto thoroughly appreciates that now that he was out of his house and away from his dysfunctional family.

His eyes trace the outline of U.A’s building, gleaming in the night filled to the brim with life. Fortunately, Izuku’s already there.

“I’m so sorry Shoto, thank you so much!” The green-haired thanks as Shoto passes over the device.

He shrugs. “No big deal. Good luck, by the way. With Ochaco.”

Uh-oh. Wrong dialogue option.

Within seconds, Izuku devolves into a stuttering mess, making Shoto thoroughly wanting to slap his head on one of the lamp posts standing 5 metres away.

He really needs to keep his mouth shut.

“I knew this would happen.” A voice growls, and when Shoto turns, he realises that Blasty Mcxplode had entered the scene, and he had t-minus five seconds before—

“Come on nerd. Let’s go back inside.” Katsuki beckons a semi-functioning Izuku back into the building, before giving Shoto a glare he has seen far to many times in counting.

“Sleep with one eye open, dick head.” He mouths, before he slams the door in Shoto’s face.

Okay.

Three seconds.

He miscalculated.

With a loaded sigh, Shoto turns back around to head back to the dorms as people breeze past him—

Only for his eyes to catch yours.

You stand there with earmuffs and a coat, obviously not dressed to head in. Your hand is up and it looks like you are waving, but Shoto can’t even process anything because as snow falls around you, time seems to slow because he can’t help but feel like he’s seen you before.

But that’s impossible. Shoto has never seen you in his life.

You peer at him with a curious glint sparkling in your orbs, and he can’t help but think, wow…your eyes are mesmerising.

But why?

“Do I know you?”

Your eyes widen for a split second, and it takes him a moment to realise he said it out loud.

Crap, crap, crap—

What is this?

All he wanted was a peaceful night alone, and yet here he is under the snow, heart pounding, breath caught and his face warm.

We met at the start of the winter.

And like clockwork, the dominos fall again. Fate has charted its course with tangled skein, as Shoto finds you again at the age of 16.

[teecupangel]

Altaïr gets reincarnated as an eagle in the modern era after he died and just flies around learning stuff until he saw 16y old Desmond just escaping the farm and gets the feeling that he's important so he sticks with Desmond and just lives with him up until Desmond gets kidnapped. I just want to see a possessive birb! Altaïr screeching at anyone who looks at Desmond wrong

Could be AltDes 👀

(ngl, this turned out to be a bit similar to the AC1 portion of Zero Eclipse and borrowed a bit of Altaïr’s Eagle parts from this ask)

He had no idea why he had been reborn as an eagle but it was fine. He could work with what he had. A new life was a blessing (or perhaps a curse for an old lonely man such as himself) that he does not intend to squander away.

He first tries his luck with Masyaf, knowing it should have already been abandoned by the Brotherhood but still wishing to see how it fared after all these years.

The sight of a large Abstergo building in place of where the castle used to stand gave him a sense of dread that he had an inkling of why yet wished desperately to be wrong about.

His dread was warranted as he found enough evidence that points to Abstergo being a Templar-owned company.

But there were many things about this world that he was unfamiliar with.

Many terms and words…

Devices…

Places…

He had nothing but time and it wasn’t like he could find any Assassin to communicate with right now so, with a heavy heart, Altaïr took flight and flew away from his old home.

It is during his travels to understand the world that he sees him.

Lanky but quick with moves that reminded him of the training he had when he was a child learning the basics.

And he was fleeing from people older than him…

Altaïr was not a stranger to the cruelty of this world. If anything had remained the same no matter how many years have passed, it is that humans did not change at all.

They could be as kind as they could be cruel.

And there was a desperation in the child’s movements that made Altaïr believe it was the latter.

So he let out a cry to catch the boy’s attention and flew above him to guide him out of this forest safely.

The boy only hesitated for a moment before he soon ran after Altaïr and that… did not bode well for the boy.

Any normal human would have probably ignored Altaïr.

The fact this boy did not…

Altaïr feared what life this boy must have had that he would place faith in the cries of a random bird of prey.

With his guidance, they were able to lose the boy’s pursuers and took a break by the river. It was a bad place to take a break in as, if his pursuers even had a little bit of intellect in them, they would realize that they stand a greater chance of catching a boy by following the river that the boy would probably use as his guide.

But the boy needed a break, his face flushed and his breathing too shallow to be normal.

Still, there was a brightness to his expression that clouded the fear his eyes held.

Altaïr knew that the boy has no idea of what to do now but he was still…

Happy.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing thru his body but, right now…

He was happy being away from his pursuers.

“Thanks!”

Altaïr cocked his head to the side, wondering how he should act around this child.

Normal humans tend to ‘freak out’ whenever Altaïr shows even just a higher level of intelligence than normal avians.

But this boy…

He smiled at Altaïr as if it was normal to thank a bird of all things.

“My name’s Desmond.” The boy introduced himself, “Ummm…”

Altaïr stared at him for a moment before he hopped down. He used the many rocks around them to form his name in the alphabet that the people of this country seem to prefer.

“Uuhhh… Alt…” Desmond cocked his head as he pointed at the two dots on top of the ‘i’, “Why’s there another dot in the ‘i’?”

Altaïr wanted to sigh.

Could bird sigh?

Altaïr used his wing to push the rocks aside and redo the entire thing, focusing on sounding out his name instead of trying to spell it.

“A… um… Altaïr?” Desmond read with a tilt of his head. There was still that American accent that makes his name sound strange in his ears but it would do for now. Altaïr nodded and Desmond grinned at him, “Okay, Altaïr. It’s nice to meet you.”

Altaïr was sure normal people wouldn’t greet a bird like this.

It was clear that Desmond…

… Desmond was going to need his help.

Unorganized Notes:

Desmond still travels to New York and Altaïr follows him from above. Altaïr only appears when Desmond’s alone.

He had only planned to stay until he was sure Desmond would be okay but… well… he sorta never left because he realized Desmond was never going to be okay.

They were two lonely people who found solace in each other’s company.

The more Desmond learned of the real world, the more he realized that Altaïr isn’t a normal eagle but he ignores it because he’s afraid that talking about it would make Altaïr go away. “Like… speaking it out loud will erase the magic.”

Altaïr usually stay in Desmond’s apartment or flies around New York whenever Desmond has a shift in Bad Weather. He now knows how to operate the remote and he’s an avid History Channel and Natural Geographic watcher.

Altaïr was way in deep with a documentary about ‘Ancient Aliens’ when Desmond was captured. His Eagle Senses did tingle when Desmond was being abducted but, by the time he found the abduction sight, Desmond was long gone.

Altaïr starts looking for Desmond immediately after but the trail ends in an airport. He could, theoretically, try and find the plane that took Desmond but as an eagle? He’d stick out in a busy airport like this.

Out of ideas and his adrenaline finally crashing, Altaïr fell unconscious on the roof.

That’s when he dreamt of Desmond and… he was in his human form… He calls out to Desmond and Desmond turns to look at him, eyes going wild as he ask, “Altaïr?”

So, in this setup, Altaïr and Desmond dreams of one another while Desmond is captured by Abstergo and Altaïr tells Desmond to find clues of where he was, anything at all. Desmond is pretty sure he’s dreaming of Altaïr because he had been reliving Altaïr’s memories and Altaïr froze at that. He was what?

“Did you… did you find my memory seals? Do the Templars have my memory seals?” “What? What’s a memory seal? I’m reliving your memories thanks to this freaky device they call the Animus.”

Anyway, one night, Desmond tells him that he saw the buildings outside but he couldn’t make out anything. Altaïr tells him to try and remember them and try to describe them, anything at all, and they realized that Desmond could actually project what he saw when he thought of it. Altaïr recognized where Desmond was. “Rome’s Abstergo facility. I’ve seen it before when I checked out Italy.” “Where… have you not been anyway?” “The Artics.” “Of course.”

Anyway, when Altaïr gets there, he sees people acting suspiciously and realized they’re Assassins. He goes to them and tries to get their attention. When they ignored him (well, one of them went “Is that an eagle?!”), he steals one of their phones and stared down at them as he used his talon to type (and he’s really glad Desmond had bought him a second hand phone he could practice on so he could text Desmond, really, Desmond had been too accepting of the weird things Altaïr could do) “im here to save desmond are you assassins”

Okay. He wasn’t great at it but he still think he got the message across and they stared at him with wide eyes which yeah, fair, that’s the normal reaction people should have.

They did sorta agreed to partner with a bird of all things because they were Assassins and weird shit was pretty well this was weird af but they'll work around it anyway. Altaïr’s scouting helped them plan around the traps Abstergo had and it became clear that they were waiting to ambush them. In the end, they get far enough to cause a distraction for Altaïr to just divebomb into the level that Desmond was in after an Assassin shot at the windows to make it easier to break. Desmond recognized Altaïr immediately and his body moved on its own as Altaïr screeched at him before taking flight. All Lucy could do was shout Desmond’s name as he jumps after Altaïr… and performs a Leap of Faith.

Into hastily created ramp the Assassins made for him.

In this scenario, Desmond is taken out of Abstergo by Assassins that he recognized as the other kids from the Farm who had gone against Bill’s orders to not do anything and went ahead to rescue him. (sidenote: if you don’t want to create OCs, you can go down the Old Master route and make these Assassins reincarnations of actual canon characters that have no memories of their past, making them based on Assassins from Masyaf would be fun and a reference to how the Farm was like a distorted less militaristic version of Masyaf but other AC characters that Altaïr and Desmond wouldn’t know, like maybe Arno and the Frye twins? Maybe even Ezio since Desmond doesn’t know him yet would be fun too)

Anyway, after this, Desmond and Altaïr would be part of a sorta-rogue Assassin cell and their next shared dream would have Desmond realize that he had been speaking to his Altaïr and not the Altaïr of the memories he had been reliving. Altaïr just takes the whole “my Altaïr” thing in stride and Desmond wonders why Altaïr is an eagle in the first place.

The endgame would probably Altaïr and Desmond trying to find a way to get Altaïr a human body of his own? Or Altaïr just stays as an eagle anyway and any physically romantic scenes they had would be relegated to their shared dreams.

Altaïr pecks Bill. That’s a given. He might even screech at the other Assassins who helped Desmond escape if they’re unintentionally being inconsiderate of Desmond.

Look, it’s me. If you give me a ‘maybe/could be AltDes’, my brain immediately goes “alrightly then, how we going to make this AltDes, lads” and all my braincells just start popping out like freaking Rabbids with nerf guns of different tropes.