bakerstreet | We'll find each other again and again

We'll find each other again and again

The Reincarnated Lovers Meme

Everyone knows the feeling of when you see someone and you know you've seen them before. Isn't that a part of déjà vu? But what if the connection you have with that person goes beyond the superficial recognition of familiarity? Perhaps you were connected once...in the most intimate of ways. Some religions and philosophies believe in reincarnation of souls, and it's said that souls could be reincarnated together - once again to follow out the same path they did before. Or maybe not. Maybe it could be a second chance for fixing things that went wrong before, like the a tragedy or circumstances keeping you apart. But can you take that chance? Do you even want to? HOW TO PLAY Comment with your character, stating preferences and pertinent information. Tag around to others and roll the RNG to determine what your scenario will be. The first roll determines the parameters of the "past life," the second the parameters of the "present life." The meme is intended to take place in the present, but there's nothing stopping you from playing out flashbacks to the "past." Play out the scene! WARNING: There will probably be triggers here.		A. THE PAST Medieval: The two of you lived in the middle ages or an equal high fantasy setting. Kings, queens, knights, wizards, your doomed love was set among the sword and shield. Feudal Japan: During this time, honor reigned supreme and warriors lived and died by the sword. Perhaps the two of you lived here? War: World War I, World War II, World War...III? Whatever the tension was, the two of you weren't living in happy times. Not Human: You were gods, demons, monsters, angels - or at least one of you was. Sci-Fi: The two of you found love in a world of science and technology...maybe a base on the moon? Taboo: In a past life, the two of you were related, yet still somehow fell in love. Or perhaps there was a big age gap, or different social standings. Whatever it was, your affection was "wrong," somehow. Intended for Someone Else: One of you was engaged, intended, or taken by someone else. Not Allowed: For some reason, you couldn't have your love back then. Tragically Cut Short: Somehow, your love ended in tragedy and one of you died. Living Happily Ever After: The two of you grew old together, had a family, the whole shebang, and died of old age. As a reward, you get to be with your loved one again. WILDCARD or CHOOSE YOUR OWN B. THE PRESENT (Not So) First Meeting: You could swear you've seen this person before...but where? Need to Be Near You: You don't know why, but you have to be close to this person, to protect them, to love them. Memories: You're having memories of your past life and it's freaking you out. The Reveal: Somehow, the truth is revealed to you about who you used to be and what you life was like with this person. But I'm Taken: Unfortunately, you've already moved on to someone else who doesn't fit into the picture of your past. You Have to Be With Me: You're determined to rejoin with your past lover...even if they're not interested. He Doesn't See Me: You're afraid your lover only sees the past "you" and not the you who exists now. Are they in love with a memory? Madness Ensues: It's getting hard for you to tell which life is the "real" one, the one you have now or the one in the past. Perhaps you only see one way of release: becoming reincarnated again. It All Worked Out: The battles are fought, the war is one. You've earned your happy ending in this life and the two of you can live together. WILDCARD or CHOOSE YOUR OWN
Meme inspired by the anime/manga Please Save My Earth. Feel free to repost this as you feel fit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"Yes, of course, I'm terrible," and now that Alejandro is slung around him, that his face is in Jon's shoulder, he can get his hand in those soft curls and just stroke. Touch. Soak in Alejandro as he starts to enjoy this new Alexander, this new life that they're going to get to share with each other.

But more seriously-

"No harm done. Honestly," he dips down, lets his lips rest against the side of Alejandro's forehead, "I'm glad we got it done with so quickly. It never goes smoothly. It can't."

Not when there's something this big, this life-changing.

His hair is pretty incredible this go 'round.

'It never goes smoothly, it can't'-- Alejandro doesn't know what any of that's supposed to mean but he doesn't give a shit right now. All he gives a shit about is clinging to Jon and trying to process this, and he's not doing to great at the latter. He's got the first thing on lock, though. Even if he is crying.

"I could have hurt you. I could have left. They've tried to use you against me so many times I'd given up believing."

"I didn't let you hurt me," and it's true, he hadn't. Even if he'd bargained from a place of weakness, he'd still stopped harm from coming to himself.

"And I wouldn't have let you leave. Not entirely."

His breath sucks in in a rush, and there's a faint hint of irritation. No, more than just a hint. Jon's relationship with the gods is a troubled one, and it wasn't as if he hadn't known the touch of exactly who had been involved earlier.

"They might have used the idea of me against you, but I won't ever let them use me that way."

Alejandro is still clutching his hand, reveling in the undeniable feeling of rightness. His stupid, wonky ability, grafted onto him as a way to try and keep him loyal and obedient without actually showing their hand-- years of promises about finding his love, all the while knowing they were incapable. Lying to him. And then once faking it entirely after he'd pulled Eric away. Divine heroes are not demigods or scions. They just plain aren't under the Circle's purview. But they were more than happy to hide the truth and convince Alexander the Great otherwise to keep him in their stable.

This is just. A lot. His reality has been tipped over, and in a much more permanent way than the influence of his father reaching through him to the mortal plane like earlier. He knows it's much the same for Jon, but he also knows Hephaestion has just always been better at handling his shit.

"What the fuck," he laughs, exasperated at this whole situation (but most of all himself), still teary-- and this time he says it in Spanish, oops.

He doesn't know exactly what's been said, but he can tell enough from the tone. And the laugh, the tears... all of it makes him squeeze Alejandro's hand and breath out with something very much like relief.

"You're going to have to teach me Spanish," he points out in Macedonian. He'd learned Persian and German for Miranda. But Spanish? He knew only as much as he'd learned from television.

"It's learnable."

What a bad, old joke.

Alejandro shifts his stance, but only so he can pull his other glove off and reach up to touch Jon's face, thumb sliding over his cheekbone and holding him. "I want to know everything about you. We've missed too much. My love..." he leans in and rests their foreheads together, his gaze unfocused and blurry. He's probably going to start crying again (look, he's just a very passionate person, alright). "My life..."

Finally, finally, he kisses him.

Jon would be very very worried if he wasn't crying. Honestly, Jon would be crying it if it wasn't... if he didn't have to be the together one, the rock. The tears are just under the surface, and they will probably slip out sometime later, when Alejanro's feeling a little more settled. He's happy, he's... deliriously happy. He's still trying to figure out how to exist in a world where it's finally happened as opposed to being something he has to plan. The day and time has arrived and he's a little at ends.

Shock is how most people would put it. Jon would say that he's having a brief tactical pause in his emotional processing.

But then he's hearing those words, they're echoing really, until the first moment that Alejandro's lips meet his own because at that moment, there's nothing else. Just the kiss, simple and perfect as it is, and he's never wanted more of something so passionately in his entire life.

He's just going to nudge in for a little more if that's all right, Alejandro? Yes? Let's hope so. He's missed you.

Jon doesn't have to be anything, not with Alejandro. And they'll get to that place soon enough-- right now it's still surreal and overwhelming, being the closest of companions but strangers at the same time. There's so much to work out: obviously they must be together and Jon's right, he has to learn Spanish because like fuck is Alejandro staying in America, but does Jon have a family? What's his endgame for his company? Is he going to be comfortable with Alejandro's wife? Their relationship is open, sure, and while they've never been each other's primary lover and she's fully cognizant of who her husband truly is, he won't shove her aside. He has his daughter to think of, after all, and they do want more children.

He remembers-- marrying sisters, intending on marrying their children together, so that their bloodline would be one. A horrifying feat of incest and eugenics by modern standards, but something sensible and romantic at the time. This shift is so strange now that it's tangible beneath his hands. Does Jon even like kids?

Who cares? Right now, who cares. It doesn't matter. Only they do.

Yes, that's all right, that's more than all right. Alejandro deepens their kiss in a sudden surge of passion and when he pulls back: "What are you waiting for, Hephaestion?"

And Jon... blinks.

What does he mean? What could he mean? He's not waiting at all. He's kissing. He's kissing his Alexander as he's been aching to do since he first knew what a kiss was.

Of course, in actuality, Jon is very much getting in Hephaestion's way, tripping over himself with a need to make everything perfect when have you met them? But this is the reality, not of Hephaestion, but of Jon, the dedicant finally chosen for ecstacy who has always had trouble just letting things happen.

His answer is to dive forward to take another kiss.

This. He wants this. He's not waiting. He wants this! He's always wanted this. It's almost frantic.

Don't doubt me now!

Alejandro doesn't doubt him. But he wants him to let go-- don't stand on self-control for his benefit; if there's a time where it's worth it to have both of them unraveling, it's now. He wants to feel all of him, every raw ragged edge of emotion. He knows Hephaestion is as passionate as Alexander, eve if the taller man has always been so much better at being regal and presentable and orderly. Fuck that.

Show me all of you.

His smile is tangible against that frantic kiss. There you are.

"Mi vida," he sighs, repeating my life, this time in Spanish. Because it sounds lovely in Spanish, and because it's just ... natural, now, with who he is. Alejandro runs his hands over Jon's hair and holds him tenderly.

There is something to that gesture, something to the way Alejandro holds him, which strikes a cord, cuts a cord that had been wrapped around his heart, the one that told him 'not yet, not yet' in a voice as fervent as it was implacable.

All of him? There is so much of Hephaestion, of Lancelot, of Enkidu and a thousand other names, lost to history, wrapped up inside of him and he has made so much room for them, enough room to leave Jon pushed to a corner. But Alejandro is here, Alexander is here, asking, begging him and he can but go. Come. Give him what he wants.

He'd dove but now he grabs, hands strong and intent around Alejandro's arm, looped to hold him closer, and Jon doesn't quite know what he's doing, but for the first time in his entire life, he doesn't actually care. Because for once, for once, and maybe forever after this, things are actually okay. Things are good. Not later, not once he's done his duty. Right now, they're good, and he has what he wants and he's going to take it.

Alejandro sighs a laugh, still teary-eyed and emotional, and repeats his endearments again and again in between kisses. 'So much' doesn't matter; Alejandro can take it, could take it even in 330BC. His intensity is not diluted by the memories of a hundred lives - he is who he is, son of Mexico and Macedon, deep enough for even gods to drown in.

He's alive and vibrant and happy in Jon's arms, the both of them finally where they belong. He smooths one hand down the other man's chest, tucking it beneath his shirt to splay his palm over his warm skin. Is he scarred? Does he have tattoos? Alejandro imagined him a thousand ways, different ages, other genders. He's beautiful no matter what, but of course he's this classic, clean-cut Hollywood gorgeous to contrast against Alejandro's untamed curls and deliberately-in-between beard.

"I better not be dreaming."

That earns him a nip to the jaw from Jon with a glance up at past a set of pale, almost invisible lashes.

"You're not," he says firmly, on somewhat more solid ground. The hand against chest will find no scars, no marks; he only has the one and the mark from it is harder to find.

He starts to dip in for another kiss, something to soften the nip, before glancing around the room.

"...I want to go somewhere other than my board room but I don't... want to change anything quite yet."

What, hey, don't pause. Alejandro pulls him the rest of the way in to claim that aborted kiss (possessive, unashamedly so) before he responds. "Dinner's getting cold, it's probably my fault," for almost choking Jon out in a fit of divine anger instead of smoothing the situation over and sitting down like a sane person? Yeah. Well. His English has a more pronounced accent now, not really in the right mindset for it - he feels dreamy and at home and at home does not involve a language he didn't learn until high school. It's fine, though.

"I can move us, if you want. I'll just need to know where I'm going."

"Dinner is the last thing I'm thinking about," and he's grinning, almost in spite of himself. And almost in spite of himself, there's a bit of a wicked slant to it. Which, in turn, makes him laugh, just a little.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever you want to go." He gestures to the door. "I've got no where more important to be. I don't think I ever will."

Alejandro can't help but kiss that smile. This doesn't feel real still-- but it doesn't feel fake, either, hell, he doesn't know what the hell it feels like. He'd so thoroughly given up, having needed to crush hope within himself to be able to survive at all, and he almost doesn't know how to reconcile this. But gods, he's happy.

"No I mean--" and he's laughing, too, "I need exact coordinates or, show me on google maps. I can't go too far away or I'll just pass out, though. Where do you live?" He keeps one arm around Jon and pull his phone out with his other hand, opening up the GPS.

Don't help it. Please. That request is in the way he leans into that kiss with his whole body, with everything.

But one hand is grabbing his phone from Alejandro nimble fingers are typing in the right letters to show his home on Google maps, the address displayed clearly as he holds up the screen for him to see.

He grins. No helping at all. Alejandro presses kisses along his jaw and behind his ear as Jon plugs in his address - before he does anything else he asks about the floorplan - then he studies the map and re-pockets his phone.

"Alright, bear with me..." he doesn't do this particular thing very often. Hopefully he doesn't, you know, miss. Alejandro slips his arms around Jon's middle to hold him close and tosses his hair back, gaze tilted upward and slightly unfocused. There's a shift in the air in the room and, similar to before but with a much different feel somehow, Alejandro looks hyper-real. Too saturated, edges not fitting correctly into the rest of the world, eyes dark and dilated almost like he's drunk.

(Not dad, then.)

Blink-and-gone,

and

They're in Jon's living room, though Alejandro has slightly miscalculated and ended up with Jon on the coffee table and himself sort of beginning to fall off of it--

He's cracking up as he stumbles down, yes. Oops.

Edited 2017-01-05 20:28 (UTC)

The dilation tells him exactly where that power had come from, and it isn't as if he isn't aware of Alexander's feelings on that particular deity either. But then they're in his living room, Alejandro falling off of his coffee table, and Jon can't figure out a thing to do that would be better than rolling off to fall beside him so that he can resume kissing him.

It's a nice house, after all. Very plush carpet.

Oh, he likes that. Even as he comes down off the high that lifting from Dionysus always leaves him with, he feels elated - but it's nothing to do with anything otherworldly. It's just Jon. Alejandro laughs and kisses him, pulls him closer so that the fair-haired man is atop him, and feels like he could cry at the simple pleasure of feeling his weight on him again, feeling him so alive and really, truly here.

"I love you," he says, breathless. "I love you so much. Gods, I've been half-alive without you. Hephaestion. Jon."

"As I love you," comes back to him, nearly as breathless. But he's too overjoyed to worry about breath. He'd rather suffocate than live another moment without kissing him again.

"Jon." Kiss. "Call me." Kiss. "Jon." Kiss. "Shorter." Kiss. "More time for." Kiss, which, in it's own way, is the end of the sentence. And this one continues long enough to add another one.

It doesn't matter what you call me. You know who I am.

Alejandro is doing something that's almost giggling as Jon kisses him, simply overjoyed by what's happening. "I always thought my name was a fantastic coincidence," he says, only fumbling over the words a little - eugh, English - as he threads his fingers in the other man's blond hair. He switches to Macedonian when he continues: "Are we to stay on your floor? I need you to decide quickly because--" he cuts himself off with a pointedly passionate kiss, pulling him down bodily against him.

Jon goes because where Alejandro leads, he will follow even when the path is not nearly so delightful. But it does make thinking of the trajectory for their evening outside of the carnal a little different.

He pauses, but not for long since as soon as he's able to think, the decision is clear.

"Bed," because he intends to stay there for a while.

"Get up, then," he says, and shoves at Jon's shoulder to roll him onto his side so that Alejandro can stand, dragging him with. And then he laughs, "Where's your bedroom?"

Because he was of course ready to just barrel forward, but-- oh hey, no idea where he is. Later when they can breathe, when everything isn't so frantic and painfully tender and new-old-new-again, he'll look around this house. He'll soak up every detail and quirk and love it, from organization to laundry to environmentally unfriendly lightbulbs; whatever, anything, everything.

But now. He just wants him.

The speed he pushes up from the ground with shows some sort of physical prowess; gymnast or fighter or maybe even some sort of dance. They'll get to it eventually but for now, he's rolling off and getting up and tipping his head down a hallway to pull Alejandro in the right direction.

We'll find each other again and again

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)