Letmestayanon
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The Age of a New Trickster by SuperShiro
Fandoms: Metaphor: ReFantazio (Video Game), Persona Series, Persona 5, Persona 4, Persona 3
24 May 2026
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Summary
Amamiya Ren has run the gauntlet and survived. Cognitive divinities, overenthusiastic therapists, rogue AI - you name it, he's dealt with it. His reward? A comfortable college life with a new family, a loving girlfriend, and a group of friends who would do anything for him. But for some reason, fate seems to like screwing with him in particular.
Now Ren finds himself in a new and dangerous world full of demi-humans, actual humans (which look nothing like he remembers), rampant bigotry, and magic of the distinctly non-persona variety. With no idea how he got here, and only the concept of a plan to get back, the former leader of the Phantom Thieves hitches his wagon to a unique Elda with an even more unique book.
A retelling of Metaphor: ReFantazio wherein Amamiya Ren joins the Protagonist's quest to save the prince of Euchronia, and his unique skillset and knowledge will hopefully tip the scales in their favor.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 287,018
- Chapters:
- 51/?
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 1,958
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- 1,229
- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by Letmestayanon
27 Feb 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
Ch52
Xover M:RF x P5
Ch5 yooooooooo
Ch12 ?!!!!
Ch25 pots n pans here! : D
Ch33 hmmm
Ch45 !!!! D:
Ch51 !!!! : D -
Yuánfèn 缘分 by Odderancy (dreamcatchers_and_chocolate)
Fandoms: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
25 May 2026
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Honoured a-niang,
Please give my loving regards to a-die, gege, and meimei. This disobedient son apologizes for not having written in a while. I have been busy with my duties and night hunts. Ouyang-shixiong will soon retire from being head disciple and I have taken on many of his duties. We also recently brought back Venom-Devouring Pandas to the sect, and I promise I will tell you about it. But first, I have a question.
Qing Jing Peak’s head disciple, Shen Qingqiu (Shen Jiu, as in black jade, until recently), not only shares our name, but also my face. He accused me of being a face-stealer when we met. It is like looking in the mirror, if I had a tendency to glare at everything and everyone. From what I gather, though he won’t speak to me much and no one seems to know anything about him, he is twenty-three years old. Two years my senior. Even his voice sounds like mine.
A-niang. Please. Is there anything you want to tell me? -
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He takes the kid as Rouge breathes her last, shuddering breath, and goes to turn out the door.
Standing in his path is an old friend.
"Hand over the child,” Sengoku says, voice even and tired, and Garp has to make a choice.
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Or: Garp accidentally becomes a pirate, purposefully becomes a grandfather, and still manages to be a hero in the end.
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“You look like shit.”
A red gaze sweeps Lucifer from head to hoof and back again, followed by a well-sculpted eyebrow rising pointedly.
“Yes, yes,” Lucifer says from very much not the high ground. “Pot. Kettle. I’m aware. Why do you look like shit?”
Red places his free hand on his chest, fingers spread in gentlemanly offense. “I’m merely winded from all the effort I put into saving the Pentagram from your folly.”
Uh huh. No doubt Red’s a real hero. But first, a point of clarification. “My folly?”
“When you walked straight into the most obvious ambush of all time and were used as the unwitting power source for a doomsday device that nearly killed us all.” Black-tipped ears perk forward. “Ring any bells?”
Oh, fuck him. Also, no, not really. “Well, excuse me for underestimating what you sinners are capable of. None of you have ever managed to hurt me before in all the millennia you’ve tried. I’m not used to ambushes meaning anything.”
“Hence, folly.” Red tilts his head to the side at an inhuman angle, canned laughter swelling in the background. “You’re so good at it!”
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“…Come again?”
Tobirama should’ve learned by now that his preferred and efficient method of conveying information would never be enough for Hashirama. His brother, for all his greatness, often required the dots to be connected for him — sometimes drawn in crayon.
“They’re marriage proposals, Anija,” Tobirama repeated, this time with the slow patience reserved for children and overly sentimental brothers. He shuffled the top scrolls with sharp, practiced hands. “You’re already married and probably expecting an heir soon, which makes me the next eligible candidate for politically motivated courtship. The clans want unity. The daimyō want leverage. And apparently, the rest of the country wants a spectacle.”