#Class of AUs: Myths and legends

[jadenightmaresans]

Had to draw my hubby- Hfgdffayhdn I love him so much- 0/////0

[amywritesthings]

war of clarity. / levi ackerman x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day nine: soulmate au / day six: love at first sight)

pairing: captain levi ackerman x f!scout reader word count: 1.6k summary: They say finding your soulmate is like getting a migraine. When you've lived with chronic pain your whole life, the legends seem like a joke.

tags: soulmate au, love at first sight, mild language, reader has a chronic pain/illness condition, migraines/headaches credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

They say when you meet your soulmate, the pain is worse than a migraine.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting, blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white; then suddenly, clarity.

Funny enough, you’ve suffered through your entire life with ear-splitting headaches.

(Call it a cruel twist of fate.)

If this were the case — if being in pain from your earliest known memories in childhood all the way into enlisting in the cadets meant that you were playing the long game to experience the myth of finding The One — then you’d be quick to joke that everyone you’ve ever met could be your soulmate.

The girls in your bunk that offer to press a cold, wet rag to your forehead when the worst of your chronic illness hits — unlikely.

The boys failing at their ODM aptitude tests, where you zip by with flying colors — absolutely not.

You push—

Through training.

Through graduation.

Through choosing the Scouts, because for some reason it feels like the most noble option.

(The one that will make a difference, pushing past what’s beyond the Walls.)

So when you finally make it to the ranks, the emerald cloak draped across your taut shoulders like a badge of honor, you expect that continued dull ache in the base of your skull to follow you until your final days.

A comfort, really, to remind you that you’re still alive.

(If it’s quiet, then you’re probably dead.)

.

.

�� —

.

.

  They call him Humanity’s Strongest.

That much you’ve heard through the grapevine; a man of unbelievable strength and resolve, an unstoppable myth in the very flesh. If there is anyone to strive towards, to look towards, it’s him. 

He’s resilient. Bold.

Lethal.

And you don’t care that he’s visiting your small squadron on the Special Operations in the early morning hours of this mundane Sunday, not when you’ve woken up with the most vile headache you’ve had in quite some time.

It takes all of the effort in the world to drag yourself out of your cot, breaking out in a cold sweat as you beg the pain to ease up a little.

The importance of this moment isn’t lost on you.

Special Ops is where you’ve hoped you’d end up.

After fighting tooth and nail to place within the top ten of your graduating class, you refuse to let your body win this fight.

Most of your squad has already scrambled outside, tripping over their knee-high boots and fastening worn leather in order to get a glimpse of Captain Levi.

You just barely make it out of the barracks in time for your visitor’s arrival, shrugging your tan cropped jacket over your shoulders with immense effort.

The sun.

(Why the fuck did it have to be sunny again?)

Nostrils flaring, you slowly make your way to the line-up of your comrades as they stand shoulders back, chins tall, to greet the incoming troop of horses.

“Attention!”

Your squad leader’s voice rings out, and you manage to step your way in line with the rest of your colleagues.

With considerable effort, you lift your chin and keep your eyes closed against the rays of the morning light.

Horses whinny as they come to a halt in the dehydrated earth beneath your boot.

Two or three octaves of grunts can be heard as the representatives from the Special Ops squad make their descent from their saddles.

A few minutes.

Just a few more minutes and you can return to the barracks where it’s cool, it’s darker, it’s—

“At ease,” a deeper, baritone voice rings out against your mental pep talk.

Bored, as if already disinterested in being here.

It forces your eyes to open, despite yourself.

White.

The sun seems blinding, like you’ve somehow lost your vision in the process of squeezing your eyes so tight — until the world returns.

When your eyes catch black fringe cascading over a gray, narrowed gaze, you let out an exhale you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind, oftentimes its own hurricane, eases to the eye of the storm.

And there is…

Nothing.

No pain in the base of your skull.

No sensitivity to the sun that beats down on the halved squad that has come to visit to discuss an upcoming mission that your squadron can assist with.

No jolting pain from a bird chirping, or the huffs of exertion exiting like clouds out of the horses’ mouths, or the murmured excitement from your colleagues that feel intimidating to be even near the man who turns on the heel of his boot to stare the six of you down.

It’s him.

It’s really him, that’s Captain Levi.

His bluish-gray eyes blink down the line of bodies willing to lay down their lives for the cause, acknowledging each person —

Until they find you.

You see it: the way his fist bunches against the leather reigns in his hand, how the muscles of his neck tense when his jaw clenches, the whites of his eyes growing as he stares.

Right. At. You.

Suddenly your stomach bottoms out, but not out of nausea — terror.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting—

No.

—blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white—

It can’t be real.

—then suddenly—

The noise ceases.

All you can do is stare back.

.

.

— —

  Clarity.

— —

.

.

  The silence knocks you off your axis for the rest of the day.

Everyone is so much quieter than you anticipated.

What used to be deafening now sounds at a normal octave. 

Your colleagues aren’t boisterous, or inconsiderate, or even loud. 

They’re just a baseline of noise, a soundtrack to the soup you stare at in the mess hall without an appetite.

You even enjoy the dimly lit warmth of the lanterns surrounding the building where you sit alone.

The other five of your squad are bombarding a woman and a man — you think they’re called Petra and Oluo — about their adventures outside of the Walls.

You only realize someone is moving into your space when the wooden chair screeches against the floor of the hall, waking you from a trance.

When your chin lifts, you know who it is already.

You may know nothing about him, but your heart thrums like it does.

Like you’ve known him your whole life.

His jaw is set, expression in an eternal scowl as he drops down unceremoniously in front of you. You idle your hold on your spoon, no longer interested in swirling the utensil like you plan to take a bite.

It’s too much.

It’s so—

“You should eat.”

That honey-smooth voice breaks your thoughts. 

When he had first arrived in the courtyard on horseback, it was gruff. Devoid of emotion.

Now? It’s just under his breath, tickling your ears. Soft.

Concerned.

“Not really hungry,” you confess to the stranger — this Captain Levi — unable to look away.

You see his jaw tense before he inhales, slow and measured through his nose.

“If soup isn’t your ideal, then I can give you my share. Your leader went overboard with spoiling us.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah, shit’s annoying.”

You aren’t sure why you huff through your nose in amusement, but you do. The blunt curse takes you by surprise.

“Why’s it annoying to be offered the good food?” you ask without thinking.

“Because there’s no reason to give my squad special treatment,” he reasons shortly. “We’re all running into the same shitstorm no matter the rank.”

Oh.

So he’s admirable on top of his resilience.

Your heart feels like it’s growing on overdrive with each syllable, but you hold back anything beyond a bland smile in return.

Setting the spoon down, you let your palm rest against the wooden table’s surface.

Silence.

He’s still studying you like you’re a war plan, a strategy he has to conquer.

“I don’t understand,” he finally states out of the blue, baritone voice softer this time.

“What… don’t you understand, sir?”

“Don’t.”

The command causes your stomach to flip. Captain Levi’s shoulders deflate as he shakes his head.

“Don’t… use that, for me. Not when we—”

He cuts himself off, dropping his attention to your chin.

No.

Your lips.

“Not when we, what?” you ask after a pregnant pause, though you’re afraid to ask.

Visibly swallowing, the Captain shakes his head. “Thought maybe it was a myth.”

So he did feel it.

(An overwhelming flare that consumed the sun.)

“I thought it was, too,” you confess after some time, keeping the conversation quiet between the two of you. “I just — it never happened, for me. And I’m prone to migraines—”

“Migraines?” he repeats, eyes narrowing to temporary slits.

“Yeah,” you breathe humorlessly. “By legend, it meant that everyone was my soulmate.”

There.

Laid bare on the table between you, the word makes the confessional.

Two strangers with an invisible string, warring with the reality of clarity before them. You may not know this man, and he may not know you, but suddenly the only thing in your world that brings you peace is the sight of his face and the sound of his voice.

“But it was never them,” you add after a beat. “All my life, it was never them. The only person who ever broke through that haze was you.”

Yet Levi doesn’t flinch. 

All he does is nod, as if resigned to the idea, before reaching over for your hand. 

Wordlessly he picks it up from the table, uncurls your fingers, and places the spoon back in its center. For a minute he pauses, his thumb running along your knuckles as if to commit them to memory.

“Eat,” he urges like it’ll break him. “Eat, and tell me about yourself.”

.

authors note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in an hour as an exercise for Levi Month '24, so I hope you enjoyed my take on the soulmate au.

[dcxdpdabbles]

If you had to pick one of your stories to redo, either a portion or change the whole direction, which one would it be?

Ohhhhh, this is a good thought-inducing question. Ironically, some of my work results from thinking, "You know what? This would be hilarious if I didn't stick to plan and went off the deep end," and creating a new AU. (How Danny's grill came to be. It was based on The Bakery is a front with the same idea of Tim being undercover at Danny's food-based business, but instead of looking for proof of lawbreaking, he's looking for evidence that Danny is not human, and the bats freaking out about it)

But I would pick Freelance Inventor just to make it all through the Justice League's POV of Batman and his mysterious lover. They talk in the break room around the water cooler about how the Robins all at one point mentioned "B's Not-Boyfriend" and wonder what that means.

The League would see the Gotham heroes casually threaten Batman by telling on him to "Not-Boyfriend" and watch the Batman actually become the "Let's not be too hasty." meme.

They watch as the crazy, controlling Batman shake his head and sigh when he notices that his calendar was changed by "Not-Boyfried" to force him to stop going up to the Watchtower for meetings and instead go to "Photograph Award show, "Zoo day with youngest" "Cook for the father that raised you, you lazy city dweller who lacks respect."

Flash screenshot of the last one because the previous day, it was marked as "Speedster training and combat counters". Flash needed proof for those who would miss the massacre about to happen. He thought that he would witness Batman drag the poor unfortunate soul to dare mess with his Calander app down to hell, and instead saw him googling British recipes because he needs to have a meal plan out now.

It wouldn't just be the Justice League- though it starts with them from founding day to well over a decade- but all hero communities would begin to hear about Not-Boyfriend.

At different times, the Robins would grumble about doing class work on the extended space trips because Not-Boyfriend would be disappointed in them. They don't care if they piss off Batman, but Not-Boyfriend's sad, letdown eyes would haunt the Robins.

These are the same people who would swing themselves at monsters who were sometimes actually gods of myth with nothing but spandex and spite.

The Teen Titans witness Robin leave with his Not-Boyfriend during the Big Fight, which eventually leads to him becoming Nightwing. They start treating Robin like a Divorce Kid. Batman is the bum dad in that situation.

The Outsiders witness Robin go from anger to a protective, gleeful Redhood when Not-Boyfriend calls to check up on him. They are all welcome to stay in Not-Boyfriend's houses—he owns many properties worldwide for his travels—and he becomes the remarkable, safe adult house. They just never speak to him face to face.

Young Justice's Robin has some serious self-esteem issues. They all sort of do as the ones the older heroes forget about. This is why when Robin shows up one day asking if they would do a random fashion blog to trick Not-Boyfriend, they jump at the chance to make a more solid identity besides the clone, the time traveler, and the daughter of Zues. Then Not-Boyfriend, whom they never met and shouldn't care about, starts sending gifts, and I'm so proud of you kids through Robin up until he becomes Red Robin, they realize he's the cooler dad.

SuperSons Robin will respect no one- not even Batman or Nightwing- as he does Not-Boyfriend. They can get him to listen and calm down after noticing his siblings using the "I'm telling Not-Boyfriend on you" trick that worked on his father.

The heroes know so much about Not-Boyfriend but know nothing. He's like Big-Foot. Everyone knows who Big-Foot legend is, but no one can prove Big-Foot.

Of course, over the seventeen years of Justice Leauge's founding, heroes would assume Not-Boyfriend was helping Batman raise his children and, for some reason, couldn't be married (The rise in heroes demanding equal marriage helped legalize same-sex marriage after a bitter sixteen-year fight).

They accept he's Batman's husband, who may be a civilian, a hero, or even a villain.

They accept that Batman and Not-Boyfriend may be divorced and share custody of the children.

They accept that Batman may not be over his partner and is still, to this day, trying to win him back.

They accept that Not-Boyfriend forgave Batman years ago and are back together.

They accept that there was never a split, and the two just argued that Young-Robins blew out of proportion.

The hero community literally accepts any theory if presented well and backed enough with suitable examples. At one point, it was a tradition of trying to decipher what was going on with Batman and Not-Boyfriend.

It's even wilder when Batman reveals himself as Bruce Wayne because he is known for not having any dates despite the number of people who have tried to fling themselves at him. He's notorious for putting a lid on his playboy tendencies- showing growth, and his new persona changed to Ditzy Dad of Gotham- back when he took in Dick Grayson, but now they know it's because he had Not-Boyfriend?

Then finding out Not-Boyfriend is Danny Fenton, the Willy Wonka-esque of the inventing world???????

This man who disappears from the public eye only shows up somewhere in a jungle with an invention that low-key solves the issue of contaminated water? This man, who freelances to anyone and everyone, things that come straight out of sci-fi without a blink?

The same man who people years ago accused Bruce Wayne of sleeping with, only to be told point black by Bruce, "I wish I was sleeping with him. Have you seen him?," and people thought he was joking on live TV?

They lose their minds.

[atlaswav]

EMPYREAN ☾

INFO: 4385 words, dr ratio x gn!reader, college au SYNOPSIS: Art is the practice of capturing life in still motion, and yet Dr Ratio can never seem to capture your beauty in its entirety in his sketches. His waking thoughts are clouded by images of you, the bane of his existence. He hates it, but can't resist. The Gods - if there are any - are cruel. WARNINGS: none! for once! except attempted kiss. AUTHOR'S NOTE: my head hurts so bad rn and i need sleep but there were thoughts in my mind. also i think its really boring lowkey but hey! i said i'd publish something by sunday! also i think his characterisation is really off today but oh well.

Divinity wasn’t real. There were no real Gods, they didn’t exist – couldn’t. Science proved such. Miracles were situations of insurmountable luck, and no one’s fate was “ordained” like astrology maniacs liked to think. 

But when Icarus fell from the great skies of myth, reaching for the sun and Gods and the heavens beyond, Veritas Ratio was sure that the gnawing terror and morbid awe that seized that man at the sight below was familiar to him. That sprawling city touched by the sublime sun, smiled upon with the benevolent God peering through the clouds whose gaze melted fragile wax. 

He was sure that that fear and unprecedented awe was the same as when he first glimpsed you. 

His fall, however, wasn’t graceful or worthy of any legend. 

“Oh– you alright?” 

“My apologies, I–” he glanced up, leaning down to immediately pick up his sketchbook which had fallen to the ground, then he froze. 

“...Are you okay?”

This, he wasn’t certain. You helped him gather his supplies again, and he thought he’d never see you again – there were so many buildings and so many classes, why would he? But as if fate was stringing him along, he wound up sitting next to you for his art studies class. The class he convinced himself he needed to take for a proper education.

Icarus’ fall was met with swift demise, and he was so sure that he would too. But who was he to compare himself to legends? Even still, why else would he be stricken by the malady of your existence, if you weren’t some overwhelming beauty that his greed desired to capture? 

Art, however, could not capture life as any man would like. It could never catch the way light reflected in the eyes, illuminating the soul. Neither the delicate intricacies of a smile, a twitch of muscle, a beating of a butterfly’s wings, the delicacy of life.

Try as one might, however, Dr Ratio aimed to do this, anyway. Charcoal was his chosen medium, pervading clean paper, marking intent, focus and desperation. 

He remembered you casting him a smile before seating yourself beside him, and all his doubts in taking the art course dissipated from his mind – despite your literal run in moments before. 

You became immersed in the artwork at your fingertips as the professor chirped about something he should’ve probably been attentive to, but to him, it was now entirely meaningless. Your cheeks lifted when you smiled, creasing the corners of your eyes. Your hair fell over your face in graceful lines that framed your features, and your hands moved with such gentle dexterity that he yearned to capture them in his drawings. Your eyes narrowed in the slightest as your brush met the canvas, mouth agape with your fixation on your art. 

The charcoal snapped, and Veritas Ratio likewise snapped from his immersion, frowning at the dark lines that marred the page. 

In his sketch, your eyes were obscured by a wall of smudged black ash instead of the curtain of hair that covered your features. Ratio sighed, leaning back from the desk. Your eyes were now downcast on your palette as you mixed paints. 

There was a divinity in you that he yearned to capture, like sunlight in a jar. Futile, but with noble intention, he swore to himself. 

Then, there were more classes. More days that passed, more instances where he observed your habits, your artwork that had you enrapt, just as he imagined his own perverse captivation with you. There were more charcoal sketches in sketchbooks that never saw the light of day, ones where your smile was too wide, didn’t meet your eyes, or didn’t carry the exact expression that yours projected. 

Art could never imitate life – Veritas was simply mortal. But mortals could always dream of something divine.

There were times where he left the classroom for a moment, and he feared you might glance over at his sketchbook to see the hundreds of sketches of yourself. Smiling and frowning and focused, the end of your paintbrush sitting absently between your lips, your gaze cast to the side, small splatters of paint smudged under your eyes and on your fingers. It was unsettling. He knew it himself. There had to be an extent to his observation when it became invasive, yet he feared losing your presence without ever capturing it in still motion. 

This is when a man grows desperate. 

“May I draw you?”

“...draw me?” you glanced towards him, reluctantly tearing your gaze from your own work. “Why?”

“A study.”

You smiled a half smile. An expression that he was familiar with, given that you were already halfway through the semester. Still, there was nothing to your encounters but smiles of courtesy and niceties (he’d never admit that he so desired more).

“Sure. Show it to me later.”

Now, Dr Ratio discovers, there are few things that may disturb a man’s endeavours when he is enrapt in his studies. None of which affected Veritas in the slightest as his charcoal became dust on his fingers and he clicked his tongue at the material’s reluctance to bend at his will. 

None of which can successfully capture the being that is you, and he isn’t sure he wants to, anymore. Art isn’t made for the eyes of greed, it’s made for the soul that yearns for the cure of the senses. Or so the greats all say, but he thinks he cannot be one of them. He couldn’t imitate life, he was versed in the calculations of life instead. 

Caught in his thoughts, he taps his – new – stick of charcoal on the edge of the drawing pad, frowning at the new sketch he was pondering. 

“You’re really good.” your voice echoes from behind him. 

He turns abruptly to find you standing behind him, head tilted as you examine his sketches. Your nose scrunches the tiniest bit, and your eyes crinkle with a hint of mirth.

“Does my nose really look like that?”

“Of course.”

You laugh at his blunt reply. “Can I see your other drawings?”

There are over seven thousand languages that still exist in the world, and Veritas Ratio cannot think of a better, more dire way to say no than to agree completely. 

“Of course.” He flips through his sketchbook quietly, letting you glimpse his insanity. You were making him lose his mind, really. He watches your expression – how your eyes widen, your lips part, your brows furrow. 

“Did you do all of this since the last lesson?”

No, but he wouldn’t say that – 

“No, I've been studying you for a while.”

– Or maybe he would. 

Your laugh is another divine thing that he wishes he can capture. “Oh God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. You make a good muse.” 

“Do I?”

He nods, biting his tongue. He doesn’t want to incriminate himself any further than he already has, and he’s already become a stalker to you. 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes. Undoubtedly.” 

“Consider me flattered, then…” 

“Dr Ratio. Veritas. Veritas Ratio.”

“...Veritas.” 

He loves the way your lips mouth his name. He’d never say it to your face, though. This, at least, would die with him. 

“Well, thank you. You may return to your painting.”

You huff a laugh. “So formal. I’m nearly done, so I don’t really have anything urgent to worry about. Meanwhile you…”

He’s inclined to agree. The professor was checking everyone’s progress the next lesson, and he still hadn’t grasped what he thought to have been perfect. 

“Ah. Right.”

“Do you want me to like… pose for you or something?”

He hesitates. Why? He doesn’t know. Maybe something about morality and art and the truth, but he doesn’t care anymore. “That… would be ideal.”

“Alright, but you’ll owe me as well. Deal?”

This is how Veritas Ratio finds himself pacing his apartment, fixing his hair in the mirror, dusting the tops of the bookshelves that line the walls and polishing the kitchen counter so that each surface is devoid of any evidence of his own guilty conscience. 

His anxieties were immediately multiplied hundredfold when you knocked. He waited a couple of seconds – to not seem too desperate, with his heart racing out of his chest – then finally opened the door. 

You stood there, smiling with such casual ease that he found himself wanting to know everything about you. 

It was absurd. 

A tiny, suppressed part of him welcomed it. 

“Hey, Veritas,” 

There it was again, the unfamiliar way you said his name, smile widening. He decided against a verbal reply, instead nodding and guiding you into his living room. 

“You’re so… clean.” you glanced about the apartment, marvelling at how almost every surface had a shine to it. But it made sense, once you saw him sitting at the couch, already observing you with the unshakeable gaze you’d felt since that first class. 

You weren’t entirely oblivious to his stare, just as you weren’t unobservant with the way his cheeks dusted with pink the day before – and today, it seemed – as he made eye contact. 

You smiled, and watched him blink a couple of times before turning away with a cleared throat. 

“Yes. I can’t stand a mess of any sort.”

“Figured.” you shrugged, standing next to him. “So, where do you want to start? What should I do?”

He hesitated for a second before directing you to the armchair across from him. “Just sit there for now. We’ll start here.”

You complied, allowing him to hurriedly arrange the folds of your clothes and angle of your limbs with fleeting touches. 

He appeared nervous, but it was endearing. 

Minutes pass by in silence, faint scratching of charcoal on paper filling the space between you. The sunset’s light poured in through the balcony behind you, casting a dramatic shadow over the armchair. Purple, orange, yellow – you wondered if that scrutinising look he gave you was disapproval or awe. There was no way of telling, with his complex set of facial-expressions. 

But interpreting him through guesses wasn’t how you envisioned this would play out. 

You cleared your throat, but he didn't glance up. He held the sketchbook up next to you, but quickly returned to the page, making harsh lines across the page. 

“So… Veritas?”

His head snapped up, stray strands of violet hair splayed across his forehead. “Yes?”

“Why did you take art?”

His eyes narrowed on you. Examining, maybe. “I felt as if I needed to. For a well rounded study, of course.”

You laughed. “Of course you did.”

At this, he paused. “What do you mean by this?”

“Your reputation on campus. You have… what, four degrees? You’re famous.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, never putting down the charcoal, but tapping it against his fingers instead. “Oh? What else have you heard?”

“Well, they say you’re insanely smart, but you’re also pretentious.”

He frowned. The way his brows scrunched was endearing. “I’m not pretentious. Everyone else is simply far underqualified.”

“They also say that you’re an elitist.” you laughed. 

Concern only grew on his expression. “Do you think this of me?”

You shrugged. “I’m yet to form an opinion.”

He nodded. “Good. Wise.” he said, almost as if reassuring himself. 

“...How long will this be, though? I can only sit still for so long.”

He blinked, turning to the sketchpad again. “Not too long. I promise.”

“Can we go out to dinner, afterwards?” 

At this, he choked. You stifled a laugh at the renewed blush on his cheeks. 

“Dinner? Why?”

“You owe me, don’t you?”

This is when he realises that he was a fool in allowing you in, to allow the muse of his most divine visions to become human. 

He’s greedy, though. No one and nothing can change this. He wanted more of you. He wanted to hear each thought that crossed your mind and know each little item that occupied your attention. He wanted to dissect your mind and examine your memories and behaviours like an insect splayed under a glass, and he wanted to understand you so well that he became sick with the thought of you. But in his mind, you could do no wrong. You were so divine; with your secret smiles that held secret thoughts, and knowing glances that examined his frame with an artist’s scrutinising eye. 

“Fine. Just let me finish up.”

So you stay put, and you return to the thick silence that envelops the room. The clock ticking above the armchair only taunts you as your limbs begin to ache from lack of movement. 

Scratching on paper, huffs of exasperation, the occasional tearing of a page, and he finally sighs, rising from the couch. The sun had long since set, only remnants of daylight still lingering on the sky’s deep blue. The light was gone. You wondered if he’d captured the sun in his drawing, as well. 

“It’s done. Not good as the professor would like, but it will do for now.” he said, running a hand – dusted with black – through his hair. His forehead was coated in splotches of black thumb prints. 

You similarly rose from the armchair, stretching, and walked over to the drawing on the coffee table. 

You didn’t realise this was how you looked to him. Your features were only emphasised in the dramatics of the sunset, the slight turn of your lips and curve of your cheekbones accentuated with the shadows. He’d taken artistic liberty, you realised, in painting you within the sun’s dying light. 

You almost looked divine. 

“Holy shit.”

“Does that hold a negative connotation?”

“Veritas, you’re crazy.”

“...negative?”

“It’s so…” you met his gaze which was already searching yours for a reaction. “It’s brilliant. It’s so, so good.”

His shoulders relaxed as he sighed. “Good. Let’s go to dinner, then.” he turns to leave, but you stop him, grabbing his arm. You found that it was hard as chiselled marble, and almost want to find out exactly what’s underneath, but you dismiss the thought. 

“You have something on your forehead.” you point. 

He frowned, rubbing his forehead with the same hand that had been gripping the charcoal for the past hour. Smudged it even further. His forehead was thinly coated in black ash.

You sighed. “Here, let me.” 

He leaned down for you to wipe the stains, hair hanging over his eyes. He smelled faintly of the library with its old books, and partly of ink with something deeper. His eyes darted around to meet anything but your gaze, long lashes fluttering, crimson red eyes matching the shade of his complexion. 

You make him nervous, you confirm with delight. 

“There. That’s the most of it.” you withdrew, and he stood back up quicker than you thought possible. 

“Alright, dinner, then.” 

“Dinner.”

“I’ll go and… wash up.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

He realised how much he was doomed as the sky started to pour with rain, just as the two of you stepped outdoors, beyond his apartment complex. 

“How far is the place you wanted to go?” he asked you.

“Not too far. Let’s just keep walking.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside you. His steps were terrifyingly large, as would make sense with his tall frame. 

“So what are your interests?” he blurts out, staring at the ground as he walks. 

“Well, art, obviously,”

“Yes, of course, do you think I’m dense?”

“Maybe a little.” 

“I will interpret that as sarcasm.”

You laugh, and as if the heavens had heard you, the rain began to fall heavier, darkening the landscape, tingeing the air with smells of petrichor and a cold that wasn’t there before. 

Ratio thought it was ironic. A pathetic fallacy of his doomed fate. 

“You have to be kidding me.”

He sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers. “We are unfortuitous.”

“...You could’ve said unlucky.”

“I choose not to associate myself with idiots.”

You chuckle as you attempt to cover your head with your arms, running to the nearest block for shelter. The rain, however, doesn’t desist. It continues to pour until you’re both soaked through – his hair soaking wet, sticking to his forehead, white shirt clinging to his carved abdomen that you desperately try to avoid looking at. 

“Should we just go back?” you move your hair out of your eyes, squinting in the relentless downpour. Through the slight shelter of the building behind you two, the rain pours heavy as ever, unlikely to cease soon. 

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion.”

“...Why didn’t you offer it first?”

Because he thought you looked good in the rain with wet hair. He wanted to remember the image – burn it into his eyelids – before he returned to sketch it. Number of things he’d never say aloud: two.

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion yourself.”

“Pretentious.”

“Thank you. Now can we hurry? It’s only getting heavier.”

His situation, ironically, then becomes even more perilous. A series of unfortunate events, unfolding like a train of misfortunes. First, your meeting – strikingly uncomfortable for both of you, he imagined (it certainly was for him) – then your failed attempt at dinner, interrupted by an unforgiving rain storm. He didn’t think it could get much worse. But there was always room for improvement, as he knows better than anyone, the academic that he is. 

There are, now, puddles of water throughout Dr Ratio’s apartment that he hadn’t bothered to clean since you got into his shower.

You, in his shower. 

He wonders if there is a God, somewhere out there, delighting in his torment. It was never supposed to devolve into such interactions, only observing you long enough to capture your beauty on the page. 

He wonders if you know he is thinking about you often as he does. Thinks you’d be completely repulsed by him. This is what frightens him. 

“Veritas?” your voice echoes from within the house. 

He gets up from where he’s sitting in a puddle near the kitchen, racing to the bathroom at your call. Did he manage to miss something incriminating in his bathroom? He’d made sure that every surface was bare before you entered, had he not?

“Yes?”

“...This is embarrassing. Can you please get me a towel?” 

This felt like one of those cliches in romantic comedies that Ratio’s colleagues liked to watch. Mindless scenes of dry humour and burlesque attempts at “comedy” he found appalling. It was happening to him, now. Spiting his academic rigidity. 

“Of course. One moment.”

He tries not to think about you, standing completely bare behind the door, as he sticks a hand into the bathroom, head turned away. If you looked closer, you’d have seen the bright red shade of his ears – but to his merit, you take the towel, shutting the door, a muffled “thank you” audible through the door. 

He sighs, sitting on the floor beside the bathroom. 

Whatever Gods there were, were bestowing great suffering on him today. 

It takes a couple minutes for you to finish up in the bathroom. Another few more for him to wash up, and another handful of minutes for you both to be seated on the couch together in awkward silence. 

You wear one of Ratio’s old shirts and shorts, scrolling on your phone, and he is sitting, arms crossed, on the opposite end of the couch, staring at you again. Outside, the rain still pours in unceasing rivulets, dissipating any ideas for going out for dinner. 

He thinks his clothes look far better on you than on him. Thinks that you were made for this world and its inhabitants, crafted so perfectly. Wonders what wouldn’t suit your wear, because he can’t imagine anything that you couldn’t look good in. 

“Okay,” you say, turning off your phone to stare back at him, “I ordered. Should be here in about ten minutes.” 

He nods, and averts his gaze. 

You smile. His behaviour is amusing.  

“Veritas?”

“Yes?”

“What are your greatest fears?”

“Excuse me?”

You shuffle closer, and he notes a glint in your eye that suggests mischief. Teasing, as he’d seen before. “What are you afraid of? Like, the dark?”

“Nothing.”

“Boring. Come on, there’s gotta be something.” 

He frowns, brows bunching together as he stares at the wall. An easy, natural habit. “Nothing. Fear is irrational.”

“Right.” you laugh at his blatant refusal to cooperate with you. 

“Am I being funny?”

“No,”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being so… unexpectedly childish.”

“What?” he seems to prickle up with indignation. “What do you mean?”

“Your stubbornness to just answer my question, and the way you’re…” you gesture to his posture, the way his arms are folded and he glares at the wall. “Behaving. It’s childish.”

“Well, what are you afraid of? Nothing, right? It’s a stupid question.”

“I’m afraid of insects, the dark, I could go on, really,”

Veritas glares at you, meeting your eyes for a second. “Fear is stupid.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you scared of holding eye contact?”

At this, he blinks. He turns to face you, still frowning, but his gaze flickers between your eyes and the rest of your face. Your laugh only makes him roll his eyes. 

“You really can’t hold eye contact, can you?” you say through a fit of giggles. “Have you ever dated?”

“Yes, I can hold eye contact,” – but not with you, it seemed. You intimidated him – “And no, I haven’t, it’s a distraction.”

“From what I’m seeing, you can barely even be near me without blushing.”

He blushes, breathing a sigh of exasperation. 

“Dr Veritas Ratio’s one fear is making eye–”

Then he grabs your shoulders, forcing you closer, and holds your gaze with such intensity that the words disappear from your lips. You blink as his stare bores into yours, crimson eyes deep, shining with something unfamiliar to you that you realise you want to decipher. 

People like to say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and Veritas Ratio’s was ridden with something that burned like the sun's dying light. 

It’s then that you realise how close you are to him, how his firm grip on your shoulders softens and his touch drifts to hover above your jaw, how he smelled so inviting, familiar and distant all at once, and how his lips were slightly parted, how they looked so soft –

Knocking, at the front door. 

You both tear away, and he stumbles to the front door to collect your delivery. 

You never regret anything more than this moment. 

“Delivery.”

You nod, obscuring your face with your hair as he sets down your meal on the coffee table. 

You’re both back to silence, pleasantries and common niceties as the meal passes. 

Neither of you meet the other’s eye. 

Time ticks away as you finish your food and clean up, wiled away by carefully weighed words and half-met glances. 

He hates it. 

He hates how you were looking at him with such curiosity, and he hates how he let you tease him. He also hates the delivery man for not being delayed by the rain, but he also hates himself for not ignoring the knocks on his front door. 

“I think I should go now.”

Yes, that would be best. “Why? It’s still raining, you could stay.”

“Well…”

He knows your dorm is far from his apartment complex. He knows that you’ll have to trek through the rain, and yet he also knows that if you stay, he won't be able to sleep. He still has images of you – fresh in his mind – to sketch onto the page. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Okay. I’ll stay the night.”

“You can sleep in my room.”

“But–”

“Don’t argue.”

Somehow, you’re inclined to do as he says. 

Time, like all things, passes too quickly and too slowly all at once. Without time, nothing exists, but with it, it’s all too agonising to live through. 

This is exactly how Dr Ratio feels as he sits at the coffee table, the small space dimly illuminated by a lamp, as the entire apartment is still. You’re probably sleeping, as he reminds himself, tearing another page out of his sketchbook, unsatisfied with his own hand. 

The rain was now tame, a steady rhythm to his never-ending endeavours to capture your beauty on the page. 

Maybe it’s when the charcoal snaps in his hands, or maybe it’s when his lamplight flickers that he decides that capturing life in still motion is helpless – a pointless and impossible venture that can never succeed. 

You’re too deific to fit into a world of his creation. 

What are supposed to be your eyes – painted with fervour, but lacking depth – stare up into the ceiling as he dozes off, charcoal falling from his hand, eyes drooping closed. Slivers of moonlight cut across your painted face as he slumps onto the table, snoring softly.

—

You wake to sunlight in your eyes, blinding and harsh, and realise where you are. 

It all smells like him – that scent that you can’t place that smells good, and a lingering smell of the library with all its papers. It all smells like him, and when you walk into the living room, you find that his own apartment is completely devoid of any sense of himself. 

But when you find him slumped at the coffee table, lamplight still illuminating the space with its curtains drawn and rays of sunlight peering through, he’s obsessed with you. 

You’re unsure what, exactly, to feel. There are abandoned pages scattered all throughout the space, and unfurling one, you recognise your own face staring back at you. 

Each and every drawing is of you – your hair wet, clinging to your skin, you drowning in his clothes far too large for you, or your face painted with curiosity and entrapment. 

It’s you through Veritas’ gaze, and you think that beyond all else, he made you look divine. 

When Veritas Ratio wakes to his papers – all wrinkled and partly torn – sitting in front of him, neatly arranged with a note on top, realisation hits him, but he can only laugh. 

“Veritas Ratio’s greatest fear: eye contact with the person he’s obsessed with. Completely irrational – even though he can draw me perfectly from memory. A shame, really. Looks like you’ll have to invite me over to pose for you again.

So you can get my eyes right, of course.”

written by @atlaswav , published 26th of August 2024

[milkteahood]

a ghost for a knight

medieval au, chapter 1

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: your father, the king, makes his strongest knight keep watch over you due to you constantly disobeying the rules.

slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s while ghost is in his late 30s/ early 40s)

You thought he was merely a myth. Or at least, sort of. You heard the whispers, the other knights talking, but you never actually saw him.

Your father, the king, wasn’t allowing you to leave the premises of the castle, as you were the only heir. To you, he was just a story, a ghost. And to him, you were the same thing, for you had no idea your father was keeping you a secret. Only the most loyal to the family knew about you. So Simon had no idea why the king summoned him.

***

“That is a very good idea Your Highness” the advisor spoke.

“I just want her to be safe is all. She… she really inherited my temper” the king closed his eyes and rubbed one of his temples.

The crack from the secret passage was just enough for you to listen to the conversation. Someone was coming. Someone that was supposed to keep you safe. Safe from what? you thought to yourself. It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere.

As quiet as a mouse, you tiptoed away from the passageway and back into the labyrinth hidden into the castle. You knew every door, every crack. In case of a war, you could easily escape. Spending your free time hidden within the walls, listening to everyone’s conversations was something you found incredibly amusing. You knew which of the servants liked you and which couldn’t stand you. The only thing you found bothersome is not getting there in time to listen to your father’s whole conversation. You wanted to know who was coming. Is he planning to marry you off?

***

Exactly two weeks after the initial hearing of your father’s conversation is when the whispers started getting louder. “He is here” “The Ghost” “The Night” “The King’s most trusted” “The Myth” “The Legend”. And it was during one of your latin classes that the servant interrupted to announce that you were supposed by the king.

“Your Highness. The King is summoning you to the throne room” the servant spoke with a bow.

“What is it about?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“I do not know princess”

“Very well”.

And with that, you stood up, a million thoughts running through your head.

Making your way down to the throne room, beautiful dress dragging behind, you felt a little anxious. After taking a few breaths, you let it known to the guards was alright to open the doors for you.

There stood your father, his advisor and a man. He was dressed like a knight and wore the kingdom’s crest, but you have never seem him before.

Your father’s voice broke your chain of thoughts.

“Y/N. Please step closer. There is something I need to tell you”

“Yes father?” you approached, giving him a small bow. He might’ve been your father, but he was also the king.

“I am aware of your little getaways” his tone was cold, but not angry.

You didn’t dare say more. You knew it was just a matter of time until he found out about your sneaking away from the castle into the forest.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you. He was taking you in.

“I have considered locking you away too” your father continued after a pause “but I know what I raised. You’d eventually escape a cellar too. So, there he is” he gestured towards the man “Sir Simon Riley. The most trustworthy knight and soldier I have. He is from now on in charge of looking after you and keeping you safe”.

***

“I cannot believe this” you finally spoke once you were far enough the hallway “I have been given a nanny”

“Seems like it, princess” Simon said.

“Don’t get smart with me”

He didn’t respond.

***

And so there he always was. When you studied, he was in the room. When you slept he was just outside. He only spoke if spoken to and always walked a couple steps behind you. Only when you’d request him to walk by your side did he ever do that.

There was no more sneaking away into the secret passages. That was something your father didn’t know you did, and you didn’t know just how much Simon reported back to him.

Life began to feel increasingly boring. You felt almost trapped, even more than you previously did. So you started to hatch a plan. How could you get away from Simon, even if it was just for a couple hours. The best solutions are always hidden in plain sight. Simon only ever left your side when you wanted to rest. Of course, he was just outside your door, but you had all the room to yourself. All the room and all the ways outside of it.

So that same evening, you told the knight who was worse than a shadow at this point, that you felt incredibly tired and would return to your chambers earlier.

“As you wish, princess” was all he said as he took his place in front of your door.

You changed out of your gown and into something more suited for what you were about to do.

A wave of adrenaline washed over you as you slipped your shoes off, as to not have your footsteps be heard, and very quietly opened your window. The sunset was magnificent, the breeze cool against your skin. Your room wasn’t very high up, making it very easy to decent off its balcony.

The grass was a little wet under your feet, and you took your sweet time to enjoy this little freedom. But, just as you were about to make a run for it through the palace’s garden, a strong hand wrapped itself around arm.

“Did you really think I was that stupid?” he almost hissed at you.

Your whole mood completely deflated in that moment.

“Well… I sure hoped you’d be” you replied.

His grip on you only tightened, enough to tell you he wasn’t in the mood for your games, but not hard enough to actually hurt.

“I just, really wanted to see the sunset”

“You can see it from your balcony” he replied coldly.

“But”

“No”

“I’m the princess!” you protested.

“And I answer to your father, not you, brat”.

He almost dragged you back inside, marking the first night Simon moved into your room. The king was right, Simon thought. You really were a flight risk. And when his head was on the line, he really wasn’t going to take any shit from a brat half his age.

do not repost my work anywhere. Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

pictures were taken from Pinterest. I take no credit for them

[au-roulette]

Happy June!

To celebrate the fact that we are now officially one month away from the start of AU Roulette, have a post detailing the 36 AUs included in this year's challenge -- or don't, if you'd rather be surprised.

This year's AUs have been curated to be intentionally broad, in the hopes that they will encourage unique takes on each prompt and the creativity of the authors participating. You are welcome to write anything that falls under the umbrella of your assigned AUs, whether it's an original universe, a fusion inspired by another fandom, or something else entirely.

(What's AU Roulette, some of you might be asking? An explanation can be found here, along with the link to sign-up!)

Without further ado -- the AU list, under a cut:

Roleswap - Maybe you want to switch two characters' places, do a class-swap for a D&D fandom, try your hand at an age-swap fic, or you have another idea.

Superhero -- Invent an original universe or do a fusion with one of the many popular big-screen superhero stories. Play it straight and give your favorite characters cool powers, or try a deconstruction of the genre. With great AUs comes great responsibility

Gothic Horror -- Castles. Ghosts. Vampires. Drama. Love that conquers Death. Take your inspiration from classic literature or a newer entry in the genre, like The Locked Tomb books. But be sure to make things spooky.

Post-Apocalypse -- Will the world end in fire or in ice? Or maybe economic collapse, war, zombies, or one of many other options? You write what happens next!

Fairy-Tale -- Pick a classic tale from the Grimms, Hans Christian Andersen, Asbjørnsen & Moe, Charles Perrault, or another favorite author to inspire your AU, try out a more modern re-telling, or use fairy-tale elements to craft your own story.

High Seas -- Including but not limited to Pirate AUs and other Age of Sail adventures. Try out something more historical, or throw in as many fantasy elements as you'd like -- or a bit of both.

Time Travel -- For fixing mistakes, making things worse, or time loops. Or maybe you want to write a fusion inspired by a piece of popular time travel media, like Doctor Who.

Western -- Another AU where writers are free to do their history research or to lean into more outlandish genre conventions. Cowboys, cowgirls, and cowpokes all welcome, of course.

Mythology -- Write a story inspired by your favorite myths and legends, from a whole host of different cultures. Or maybe you'd like to try your hand at writing some epic poetry?

Coffee Shop -- A classic everyone knows and has strong feelings about. Play it straight or add a twist, whichever suits your fancy! After all, no one said where the coffee shop has to be...

College/Academia -- Are the characters in your AU students? Professors? Weary adjuncts? Throwing hands at a conference? Some mix of the above?

Theater -- Put those characters on Broadway or cast them in a disaster of a community theater production. Or a school play! All that really matters is the show must go on.

Ghost/Cryptid Hunters -- Maybe you want to write a story starring the next Scooby-Doo crew, or maybe there really is something strange in the neighborhood. Or maybe it'll never be clear what really happened -- it's your choice!

Secret Agent -- Code words, code names, you name it. Write a story about spies, cryptographers, or any other clandestine operators. Take inspiration from history or from James Bond. Just don't spill your secrets too soon.

Detective -- Whether you're writing the world's greatest detective or someone who just can't get a clue, play up the mystery! Use a classic locale like 221B Baker Street or invent your own.

Cyberpunk -- Time to write cyborg identity crises and fight the machine (literally)! Take inspiration from classic media like Neuromancer or Blade Runner or make a totally new cyberpunk universe of your own creation.

High Fantasy -- Elves and dwarves and gnomes, oh my! This AU could encompass everything from Middle Earth to D&D AUs to your favorite high fantasy books you read over and over as a kid. Or maybe you have your own spell to weave.

Band/Musicians -- Whether you decide to make the characters in your AU famous pop stars, part of an orchestra, students at a conservatory, jamming together in their garage, or otherwise musically-inclined, have fun with it!

Reporter/Journalist -- For everything from local anchors and newspaper staff to big-league investigative reporters. Write characters who'll do anything to get a scoop or with a strong sense of justice -- it's your call!

Cosmic Horror -- You don't have to love Lovecraft to get creative with this AU. Make characters comprehend the incomprehensible, send them messages from beyond the stars, and get a little creepy.

Heist -- Will you write a story about master thieves? Vigilantes righting some wrong? What's being stolen and why? Try a Leverage AU or a caper of your own making.

Space Opera -- The genre encompassing works like The Expanse, Imperial Radch, Mass Effect, and Star Wars, brimming with galactic empires, alien species, and chivalric adventures. Write a fusion set in the universe of your favorite work in the genre, or invent a new one!

Sports/Athletics -- Pick a sport, any sport -- whether a team game like hockey, an individual one like archery, a paired one like figure skating, or something a little unconventional, like roller derby or HEMA. Then it's ready, set, write!

Historical Era -- An AU type absolutely bursting with potential, from medieval romances to 1920s Prohibition AUs, to ones inspired by historical fiction like Les Miserables. Whatever era of history strikes your fancy, you can write it.

Road Trip -- Pack your favorite characters in a car and don't forget the snacks. Or maybe the spaceship, or something else if you're feeling adventurous. Where are they headed and why? Only you know the answer!

Space Exploration -- Whether you want to write modern-day astronauts, a futuristic Star Trek AU, or something inspired by the space race, the sky isn't even the limit with this AU.

Urban Fantasy -- For all your modern-with-magic settings. Write an AU inspired by something like Teen Wolf, Artemis Fowl, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or much of Neil Gaiman's oeuvre, or invent your own world where witches and websites coexist.

Museum/Archives -- Have the characters in your AU working in the exhibits or behind the scenes, down in the collections or even as archaeologists or paleontologists. What secrets are waiting to be unearthed there?

Hospital -- A surprisingly flexible AU option -- are the characters working there, or the victims of some unfortunate accident? Or maybe it's a bit of both. Take it wherever you feel like.

Camping/Wilderness Survival -- Could be anything from a fun summer camp or camping trip to a nightmare survival scenario. Write everyone having s'mores around the campfire or something inspired by media like Yellowjackets, where they might be having... something else.

Steampunk -- A fantastic opportunity to get creative with your worldbuilding. Try your hand at some alternate history, or invent a world of airships and other flying machines of your very own.

Shapeshifter -- Can the characters in this AU turn into anything they want? Or maybe they're more limited, like selkies -- even unable to control their shapeshifting at all (can I get an "awoo" from the werewolf fans?)

Classic Literature -- An AU somewhat more dependent on fusion ideas, but still very flexible! Pick a favorite classic book or play and let it inspire your writing!

Dystopian -- Create your own awful society or let a favorite piece of media guide you, like writing a Hunger Games AU. Will the characters break the cycle, or end up trapped in it?

Renaissance Faire -- A recipe for chaos. Write a bunch or faire-goers or have the characters in your AU working at the faire! Adventures await.

Scientist/Mad Science -- Write characters as normal biologists, physicists, and chemists, the next Frankenstein, or as hapless experiments themselves!

[shisui-week]

Prompt Discussions 𓅂

Festival 

A traditional Japanese Festival centered around a season: summer, fall, spring, or winter. A New Years Festival, or cherry blossoms. Does Shisui visit a shrine, dress up? How does he celebrate, food, music, dance games, Get his fortune read or watch the fireworks. Or is Shisui working the event, is he undercover, working guard duty. Or use this prompt (like any other) and have it set in another world, a college fair, a town carnival, the circus in a modern world, or a festival as an offering to the gods in a mythology au. Any and all Festivals welcome!  

Flicker

Shunshin no Shisui - Shisui of the body flicker. A flicker of light in the eye of his loved one, the flicker of a candle, or the flicker of a fire jutsu, a flicker of danger across his features.  Or does a dwindling flame flicker out.

𓅂𓅂

First Aid

Is Shisui in dire need of aid, a hospital, a medical jutsu? How does he react to someone taking care of him, or is he left to his own devices with a makeshift tourniquet. How does he recover? Or Is he the one dishing out some TLC? First aid can be as simple as a bandaid and a smooch over a skinned knee on the playground. Or Shisui picking up some medical skills in a class.

Cozy

There’s nothing like being curled up with a good book by the fireplace. Is Shisui enjoying the change of the seasons, a special holiday, or just nice weather? Is he bundled up with someone special, or taking some quiet time to himself. Is Shisui stranded on a mission with a comrade or an enemy, forced into close proximity to stay warm? Is there is only one bed!

𓅂𓅂

Memories

‘don’t forget me’ We received lots of memory based suggestions! It can be a fond memory, a sad one, a dark one. Is Shisui or someone close to him suffering from memory loss? How does he cope? Is Shisui worried about the memories he’ll leave behind, or the ones lost to time. How will Shisui be remembered? 

Kotoamatsukami 

literally meaning: Distinguished Heavenly Gods - Shisui’s dōjutsu that casts a powerful mind-controlling genjutsu on his target. Entering their mind and manipulating them with false experiences, acting through Shisui’s will leaving the victim entirely unaware. How does Shisui use this to his advantage? For his own use or the sake of the village? Does Shisui’s dojutsu get stolen, how does the thief use it, does their plan backfire, or does Shisui take revenge. Is his ultimate technique used for good or evil 

𓅂𓅂

Folklore

Yokai, Zodiacs, Angels, demons, myths and legends or anything to do with the supernatural. Explore the legends of chakra, the moon goddess Kaguya, stories of the sage of the sixth paths, jinchuriki, warriors long gone from the Uchiha Lineage; Madara, Kagami, or gods from above. The origins of the sharingan or legends of Izunami and Amatarasu. Is a yokai terrorizing the village, or is Shisui telling his teammates a scary story around a campfire. Or are the spirits kind and friendly? Is Shisui one of them? So long as Shisui is the focus, any folklore goes! Make up your own or pull inspiration from other cultures. 

Haunted

Is Shisui haunted by his choices, or regrets? A burden he must bear, or a mission he must complete? Is a ghost on his tail, creaking in the floorboards. Does Shisui visit a haunted house in a test of courage, or something more fun for Halloween with friends. 

𓅂𓅂

Clan Customs 

Traditions and customs of the mighty Uchiha Clan, how do they celebrate holidays, birthdays, funerals. Or is Shisui adapting to a new clans’ customs through marriage or a deep cover mission. Is Shisui bringing someone new into the family fold. 

Rites of Passage

Are there certain expectations growing up in the Uchiha Clan that Shisui must uphold? A ceremony to accept him into the family, or a special jutsu that marks the occasion. A test of courage, or marking a special age. Or is he being hazed before joining the police force, Anbu, graduating the Academy, or becoming a Jonin. Does Shisui take someone under his wing and help them through this new chapter?  

𓅂𓅂

Teammates

Shisui’s Genin team, Chunin team, how’d he do during the exam! Teammates for a mission, or his squad on the police force. What role does he play on his team, does he take the lead, trail behind, track, scout, work well with others or prefer to complete a mission on his own? Do you have an Oc, been waiting to show them off, are they a part of Shisui’s team, or do they have a rivalry with them?  

Secrets

Secrets, rumors, vows a promise. Can Shisui keep a secret or does he have one to share. Does a secret romance slowly unravel, or add to his desire, do rumors spread through town? Who’s Shisui keeping the secret from. Is it a secret organization, a secret clan jutsu or a planned coup d'etat? 

𓅂𓅂

Any au 

We got so many great au suggestions we’d need an event just for them all~ so instead have any au! Shisui lives, Fantasy, Mythology, College, Modern, Anbu, Yakuza, Historical, Coffee Shop, Founders, Western, from another show, canon divergence etc. The sky's the limit! 

Birthday 

It’s Shisui's birthday! How does he celebrate? Does a character give him a special present or plan an entire day of festivities? Does he spend it on his own? Or is Shisui celebrating someone else’s birthday, with a surprise up his sleeve.

Free Day

Exactly how it sounds! create to your heart's content. Use this day to mix and match prompts, extend an idea, or share whatever comes to mind.

Have any questions submit them to @shisui-week 𓅂

Prompt list𓅂Rules𓅂FAQ

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

╰┈ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 ┈➤

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : liam could’ve sworn this was the first time you’d met, so why does he feel like you know him better then he knew himself?

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reincarnation modern!au, billy isn’t billy but rather liam, and he’s an actor, this part is pretty long

𝐚/𝐧 : inspired by my friends shenanigans and talks of reincarnation! hope you enjoy!!

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ��𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

William loved Billy the Kid.

Your very own kid brother, WIlliam, had declared his own nickname to be Billy because of just how much he loved the famous western legend. Ever since you had told him of the old famed outlaw, he’s been obsessed. He changed his nickname, his clothing style, he even tried speaking in a drawled western accent like they did the old black and white cowboy shows, which Billy also loved.

He printed and weathered his very own copies of the Kid’s wanted posters, decorating our small ranch house with homemade wanted posters of me, himself, and our Pa. He printed vintage movie posters and the famous old photo of Billy the Kid to show off to anyone who'd visit your little gem in the middle of nowhere in Southern California. He even begged you and your father to teach him how to shoot just so he can connect with his hero. 

Billy had also coerced you into sewing him trousers and a blouse just like the Kid wore in his iconic wanted poster. He would steal your fathers hats and boots as well as your wine red cardigan, walk outside, toothpick in mouth, playing pretend.

Billy’d pretend that he was in the famed Lincoln County War, surrounded by Jesse Evans and his gang of misfits employed under Murphy and the House. He’d use his pretend gun and shoot all the bad guys down just as Billy the Kid had at the burning McSween house.

Of course, as Billy grew up, so did you. You had left your father’s ranch, your home, and moved to Los Angeles to finish high school and attend university. 

In university, you ended up studying history and visual communication. You loved history, tales of old, myths and legends, all of it. You were the one who taught your kid brother about the famed Billy the Kid on a road trip through the American South-West once after all.

It was your senior year of high school when you had finally found your calling. During that school year, you had found yourself signed up for a theater class. However, you were terrible at acting. You couldn’t memorize lines and your singing voice was locked up in your shower, the key thrown away and never to be found. 

Of course, your best friend, Lucy, had gotten the lead role of the play. She was born and raised in Hollywood, the land of movie magic. She was a natural, her improv and memorization skills making her one of the top people in that theater class. Her voice was akin to a sweet angel which is why the musical theater club always cast her as the lead, even in musicals such as Shrek where she played the big, burly green ogre to perfection. 

However, Lucy was very particular about her costumes. She loved you for that exact reason. You, ever since you were a child, had been talented at sewing and costume making. And on top of that, you loved historical processes and authenticity. So, of course in an attempt to include you in their play, Lucy sang praises about your skill as a designer and a historian to your teacher who had awarded you with the title “Art Director”, whatever that meant.

What did matter was that you had the time of your life. Being an expert on history, especially the Wild West which was where the play was set in, you were considered the saving grace of the play. You had led the costume department, aka you and one other classmate, in creating historical-ish costumes for each and every one of the 21 different characters. You had also led the stage crew in creating the backdrops and settings with props which all were weathered by you to look as if you had plucked them straight out of Gunsmoke or even Bonanza. 

You had discovered your love for design and history there, carrying that love with you as you went on to enhance your studies in college. As time passed on, you started to post your creations online, oftentimes getting commissioned to create costumes and even design pro global pieces based on time periods or films. Most of these posts of course were of Lucy in her costumes she asked you to make for her for her plays and musicals as she went on to professionally act and perform in live performances and movies. 

Naturally, as your account and following grew, so did your opportunities. Soon, you found yourself being contacted by actors and actresses alike, asking you to design their premiere looks. Even movie studios contracted you as a consultant to help with their movies. Of course, you accepted the position. Even your papa and Billy had been ecstatic to hear about your new passion, especially so when you told them about your new consultant gig.

After accepting the job as a historical design consultant for movie studios, you often found yourself working with costume departments, helping make sure the costumes seemed plausible for their time period. You were consulted with on set designs, making sure furniture and other items on set actually existed during that time period. Everyday, you were working on something new, using history and your knowledge to bring cinematic artworks to life, transporting actors and viewers to a time or place.

Needless to say, you loved your job.

Even more so, the perks of said job.

You were paid a handsome check every month for just doing what you loved. You were invited to gala’s and dinners alike to celebrate the movies and shows you worked on. And not only that, because you were a consultant, you worked primarily from home only and for the most part, on your own time. 

You were provided with the lush fabrics and delicate threads to create costumes and pieces. You were able to use a plethora of old sewing machines from one of the very first manual spinning ones to one of the most rare, a model from 1938 of which only 43 remain.

Your ‘office’ had to be your favorite perk of working in the movie industry though. It was located on the movie studios backlot in a building called ‘Creator’s Heaven’ because it was one of the largest creative spaces in all of Hollywood. It was an upscale warehouse with shelves towering with different fabrics, lace, and threads. It had rooms called “Makers Space” dedicated to sewing with TV’s and speakers fit for a movie theater to help with boredom when sewing by hand (although it does nothing for concentration especially when one’s favorite actor is on screen). 

You also were given permission to create your own private projects in the Maker Spaces, even if you had to lug all your own materials to the rooms yourself. You loved putting on your favorite movie or show while you created costumes as a private designer or even for yourself. Of course, that’s how you found yourself in one of the rooms one warm night in late July. 

You had promised your brother that you would make him a new costume for the Old Lincoln Days festival in New Mexico you went to every year. It was always one of the highlights of your lonely summers in LA. Your papa and lil Billy still lived on your darling little ranch which always made you homesick when your Pa would video call you and show you how much the cattle had grown or how full the fields were.

But every summer, you drove down south, picking up Billy, costumes in hand. You would then endure the incredibly dull landscape of the South-West for three days, stopping along other towns every now and then to rest, eat, and even stay the night. 

You spent the drive singing to the songs on the radio in your little SUV, AC on full blast, the cool air would sting your noses but keep you from roasting alive in the heat of the sun. You would talk with Billy about his schooling, how life was going for you too. But by far, your favorite part had to be about how Billy’s eyes lit up at every mention of the movies you helped make. Truth was, while Billy still loved Billy the Kid, he also has fallen in love with many many other movies. 

Sometimes, when your father would drive all the way to LA with Billy to visit you, you would also take Billy with you to work as an assistant of some sorts. Billy always was so energetic and buzzed with happiness whenever you did bring him along. 

You always enjoyed seeing your Papa and Billy, even if it was only ever on a video call. You loved getting to see your baby brother grow up into middle school then to high school. He had decided to stay with your Pa, helping out on the ranch and attending school in town. He had grown so much too. He nearly towered over you at the tender age of 15. His legs may have grown longer but his smile still stayed as boyish as it always was.

Which is why you loved your road trips to New Mexico. Even if it was only for a little under a week, you loved getting time to spend with your kid brother. Billy and you also loved getting to dress up like they did in the Wild Wild West too. You always made sure to update Billy’s costume because of how much he grew in a year. But you? You always always wore the same get up. Dark chestnut trousers that met your hips, straps pulled over your shoulders which lay on top of your deep red blouse. Even a gun belt, the leather hanging a little loose on your waist.

You never knew why you always wore the same old clothes but it always felt right to wear when you visited New Mexico. 

Liam loathed driving to New Mexico. 

He didn’t understand why but it always felt wrong. And yet here he was, Garett and Evan in tow, his best friends in the entire world. 

Growing up, Billy didn’t have much. His family moved from the big city to New Mexico in fact. His Ma worked night and day as part of the local Inn’s housekeeper. His Pa worked out on the ranches and farms, helping whoever would pay him while Liam stayed home in their small two bedroom cabin with his baby brother Jo. 

Naturally, as both Jo and Liam got older, they too started to work. Liam helped his Ma and Pa however he could. He learned to ride a horse to help herd the cattle, harvest wheat and grain, how to herd cattle, how to sew, clean, and cook. He worked hard at night, helping his Ma at the Inn while going to school in the morning with Jo.

And that’s exactly how Liam’s life went on for the next ten years. Slaving the day away at school, trying to get an education while working at night to try and help pay the bills. 

Yet it was in New Mexico that Liam had found his passion.

It was Liam’s 17th summer alive when his Pa had surprised him with a trip to Lincoln. The occasion? It had been a celebration of the official end of the Lincoln County war. The festival had been held for many years now, many tourists coming to visit the famous Old Lincoln Days festival where they celebrated Billy the Kid and his famous legend. 

Little did all those tourists know, drive a little more North and you’d find that the Lincoln days weren’t too far gone.

Of course, Liam’s Pa didn’t do anything without good reason. It had taken Liam a little over five years to convince his father that they needed a car, the reason his Pa finally cracked? Liam told him that it had an A/C. 

Turns out, the real reason that Liam’s Pa had taken him to Lincoln that fateful summer was all because he had signed up Liam for the lead role in the famous shooting reenactment. Every year, the first weekend of August, the festival would kick off with it’s old timey cantina’s and saloons. They even had elaborate Wild West costumes and ‘cowboys’ that would ride their steeds up and down the street, talking in drawled accents and jumbled up lingo that had to have been made up. They would take swigs from flasks and chew on long stems of wheat that rested in between their teeth.

Liam hated it. It sends shivers down his spine every time he even feels a whisper of a memory of that first time he played the Kid in the festival his father had volunteered him for.

Liam had only had three days to practice the scene, yet it was almost like muscle memory for him. They were reenacting the scene where Sheriff Pat Garrett shoots and kills the Kid. 

It truthfully felt as if he had been in that exact same position. Why or when? Liam could never figure it out, no matter how much he wracked around his jumble of memories.

It was as if he had actually been walking down the streets of Lincoln, after dinner presumably. It was as if he felt the malicious eyes of Garett staring him down as he asked 

“¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?“. 

It almost felt right to fall to the Sheriff’s gun, almost as if he truly was William H Bonney who had lost everyone he’s ever loved to death who also begged for the sweet relief that he would find in the afterlife.

It always irked Liam. Nevertheless, he was just grateful that he got paid. 

As the years passed, Liam started to fall in love with the role, volunteering every year up until he moved away for college. He wasn’t Billy every year, once he was actually Sheriff Garrett, but he always got to work with his best friends Evan and Garett, who he actually met at 17 while volunteering. In fact the three were so close that they all moved together to sunny California from arid New Mexico. 

And they have been together ever since. They all fell in love with theater and acting, especially during the re-enactments they all did in the festival back home. The trio attended community college together, renting a small two bedroom apartment together. They all worked their asses off to make rent each month while studying Trigonometry and American History.

As for how they survived in a two bedroom apartment? Well, thanks to their very special schedules with work and school, only two of them would ever be sleeping at one time. Evan couldn’t properly function until at least 2 PM which meant that he slept through the morning and was out late at night. Garrett also had a very unique schedule, rather than sleeping ten hours at once, he split it up. He’d wake up bright and early at 4 AM, leaving for his morning job down at the police station where he helped sort paperwork and whatever, come back to the apartment to nap from a little after lunch till 6 PM where he and Evan would usually go out for drinks before attending class together.

Liam never really understood how those two functioned drunk on beer, learning in the middle of the night, and working odd hours. Liam had prided himself on being the most responsible of course. He’d wake up early as well, attending classes in the morning until lunch rolled around where he’d go to his job at an old family-owned diner. 

He loved working at that little diner, it never failed to remind him of his Ma who also ran a diner and bakery back in New Mexico. She’d even open up a little pop up shop in Lincoln in time for the festival where she attracted tourists and locals alike with her delightful baked goods and savory dishes she spent hours on preparing.

It was moments like those that Liam thought of on the hard days. As the trio worked through community college, they also all started auditioning for other roles and jobs. Of course, being young and new to the whole acting scene, rarely did anyone choose the kids from the middle of nowhere New Mexico.

That is, until they held auditions for a rendition of the famous Billy the Kid story. Garett had been talking to an agent who had managed many many famous actors who were looking for new blood. It was through that agent that he had found the audition which he told the boys. Of course, Liam was ecstatic. At 20, Liam had been faced with countless empty email inboxes when it came to roles he auditioned for. Even Evan and Garett had consistently pulled Ad and modeling gigs. So, as one does when one is down on their luck, Liam remarked,

“Fuck it, what do I gotta lose?”

Liam regards that moment of uncertainty when he closed his eyes and clicked ‘Sign Up For Audition’ as the best thing he’s ever done. 

He had driven to the theater where they were holding auditions all by himself since neither of the other two were gonna audition for any of the roles since they had booked another Ad campaign the week before. 

In honesty, Liam was so nervous waiting in that line that slithered through the hallways filled with other boys and men around his age, height, and build. He could still feel the way that his hands nervously shook as he reread the script over and over and over again. He was usually good at memorizing things like math formulas and other lines of plays and musicals yet he just felt so jittery. Perhaps it was because he was playin’ Billy the Kid, a character he’s played before. Perhaps it was because he was from New Mexico and he had a hankering to do one of his states heroes good.

Regardless, Liam still walked straight ahead onto the stage, performing the lines as best as he could without choking on the words. Of course, Lady Luck refused to grace Liam at that moment where he had forgotten the line. He panicked and scrambled to recall all those years of playing Billy, speedily racking his brain for any form of assistance it could relay him with. 

Of course, his brain ran on empty, nothing came out of his mouth. Or well, nothing came out of his mouth but his hands moved on instinct. Liam had quickly raised his gun from the belt they had given him to use as a prop. He channeled each of those years of learning how to actually shoot a gun as well as how to quickly draw it to move his arm at lightning speed. 

And it must’ve worked because the casting directors yelled cut on the tape, urging Liam to come close to the table they sat at. They then truly surprised Liam by asking where he had learned to draw that fast. Liam explained that he had grown up in a small town just a bit away from Lincoln where he had learned almost everything he knew from his loving Pa.

He told them about his family, the farm he grew up on, and his experience on stage as Billy. They applauded him and snag praises of his ability as well as his knowledge on the outlaw. In truth, Liam was relieved that the casting directors had been impressed with his quick draw.

The pride Liam felt as the casting directors sent everyone else in line away as they started sharing the timeline and filming details. He felt his chest swell with happiness and giddiness as they began discussing the script and how the hours were gonna look while filming. 

That day has truly been one for the books, seeing as Liam did journal. 

He loved recounting and writing about his days and feelings. He always felt it was right from when he was younger till today, it just felt right. Yet, it was the one thing he couldn’t explain, it felt as if he had done it before. 

But when?

The streets of Lincoln were alive with the buzz of laughter, happiness, and the allure of the Wild Wild West. The streets were filled with people who had arrived early to celebrate the Old Lincoln Days. 

Of course, that group of people also included you and your brother.

You two would consistently try to get to the event early to enjoy all the festivities that were available. You would take your eager brother to the shooting range where you could shoot pellet shotguns at cans as they did in the old days to practice their aim. You would drag your poor brother to each of the shops to look at the lovely pieces of jewelry that artisans made.

Walking around the small town, you truly felt transported into the Old Lincoln days with people dressed up in all sorts of get ups from modern day cowboys, to old American debutantes. You loved the aura the town held as they celebrated their past. No matter how dark it was.

“Hey sis?” Billy's meek voice pulled your attention from the third jewelry store of the night. You loved looking at the dazzling gold and silver, you especially were fascinated by the deep dark blue sapphires that were lined up on the display.

“Yea Billy,” you turn to him, looking into his eyes that mirrored your fathers own. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing, just wonderin’ why you never buy anything from these jewelry stores that you visit every year.” You chuckled. Billy asked that every single year and every single year your answer was the same,

“Cause Billy, I got my trusty necklace. What else would I need? You know I just like browsing.” You smiled, slowly walking away from the stall. Your fingers instinctively found their way to your neck where lo and behold, your necklace was still hung loose from your neck.

Truth was you never could remember how you came into possession of the lovely chain. All you knew is that ever since you were young you remembered wearing the chain with a charm of a worn bullet swinging from the end of it. Even your father couldn’t recall when you had started wearing the necklace, it was as if it had been with you since the beginning of time.

“Well, can we start un-browsing and get some food at that one pub inside that old hotel?” He looked at you in his dapper new get up consisting of a simple dark striped blouse and trousers. However, the new gun belt around his waist was very much not simple. It had nearly taken you three hours alone to prep the tough leather you had used to create it. You could still feel the rough texture of the leather underneath your fingertips, the feeling of having to push and pull the thick needle up and down through the strong material. It had been a pain to make but seeing how happy your brother had looked when he wore it for the first time was worth it. 

“Sure, why don’t we even grab some of those pastries you love so much while we’re at it?” You sling an arm around Billy’s tall frame, walking towards the small pop-up bakery your brother adored.

“Yes!” He laughed, sprinting to the shop in three seconds flat thanks to his inherently long legs. He quickly picked up his favorite pastry, turning to you once he got to the young boy at the cash register who couldn’t have been more than three years older than your own brother.

You smiled as they started talking, looking at the other wonderfully tasty looking breads that were on display.

“See anything you like dear?” You looked up at the woman behind the counter, her dark hair and warm eyes inviting you into conversation.

“Well, everything looks very delicious ma’am. I’m guessing you’re the mastermind behind these amazing pastries?” You smiled warmly at the woman.

“Why yes I am, my lovely son Jo is manning the register this year too. He's grown up so well, just like his brother.” 

You turned to look at the two boys again, Billy showing Jo something on his phone.

“My own brother, Billy over there, absolutely loves your baked goods. Every year when we’re here, he has to come here to buy something at least once a day.” 

“What loyal customers you two are! Your brother there reminds me of my ow-”

“MA!” Jo’s voice carried from the register, “can I go with Billy here to the pub? Liam texted and told me to meet him there and Billy here said he and his sis are already gunna go.”

Jo’s Ma sighed and chuckled at her son, her head shaking as she smiled, “Yes of course you can go meet up with your brother at the pub.” She quickly folded a box up, filling it to the brim with pastries. Nimbly, she folded the lid before walking to her son, taking his un-tied apron from him. 

“Here, since you two have been coming here for years, why don’t you take this box of pastries, on the house.” Billy lit up, singing thanks ecstatically. He and Jo rushed out of the small shop, running towards the pub. You quietly thanked the lady for the pastries as you followed the two trouble makers out and back into the hustle and bustle of Lincoln.

You quickly catch up to the boys who have already pushed open the doors of the small but packed pub. There were tables crowded with people dressed as cowboys and sheriffs all toasting to the Regulators, people dressed as debutantes munching on tamales made by locals, and even people just in plain tees knocking down shots of tequila. 

It was a very familiar scene and most definitely a welcome sight.

Billy and Jo sat down at one of the tables, further away from the bar of course, eagerly discussing their clothes which Jo was wearing a very similar version of. You sat down next to Billy, looking around as they happily chatted their head off in the already loud space.

They placed their order, continuing to chatter off about Billy the Kid and the reenactment happening tomorrow. You looked around, observing the costumes people wore.

“Hey Jo, who’re these folks?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a rich, deep voice. You raised your head to look at the man who had just strolled on over to your table.

Liam had walked into the pub expecting his younger brother to be seated at their usual booth. What Liam hadn't expected was for his lil’ brother to be accompanied by another boy around his age and a woman. Where had a boy as young as Jo even found a girl to pick up already? 

Liam walked on over only to be met with a view like no other. You were no girl, you were an angel. And when you looked up at Liam with those bright round eyes, Liam could have died a happy man. Everything caught his attention, your wavy hair in an updo, your soft lips which were begging to be kissed, and your necklace, a bullet hanging in between the valley of your chest. 

“Liam!” Jo jumped, startling you out of your trance. You had been shocked by Jo’s older brother, Liam. His hair was the loveliest chestnut waves that begged for fingers to run through. He wore a dark blue blouse and deep burgundy trousers. His eyes were what captivated you the most. His deep blue eyes reminded you of the beautifulest sapphires that even the color of the ocean and night sky couldn’t even hope to beat.

Jo stood up, sending his chair back as he hugged his brother’s torso. Liam chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, committing the sound to memory. You smiled at the interaction which reminded you so much of yourself and Billy. 

All four of you sat down again as the food arrived. You all shared the food, Jo and Billy continuing to chatter leaving you and Liam to your devices as you sat across from each other. You two averted your eyes from one another, heat rising to both your cheeks nervous to talk to the other. 

Liam tried not to stare, really, but you were mesmerizing. You shined brighter than any star could, and your smile? Liam only caught a glimpse of it and yet he knew that the warm feeling he felt in his chest was not heat exhaustion.

“Sooo,” you started, trying to get the man across from you talking again,” I’m Billy here’s older sister, by the way. I don’t know if you need to or even want to know but my name’s,” you drawled, your voice getting quieter and quieter until you uttered your name.

Liam perked up at that, meeting your eyes once more. Where had he heard that name before?

He whispered your name and you could have sworn that the room had gotten 100 degrees hotter from the way his deep voice drawled the syllables of your name. “ As in the famous Billy the Kid’s lover?”

You shook your head chuckling. In all the years you have been alive, there has never been a moment where the first connection someone made with your name was the ill fated lover of William H Bonney. 

“Yes, exactly that. How do you know that?”

“Well it ain’t that hard to connect darlin’, your kid brother’s the outlaw ‘n your his girl. Your parents must’ve loved the Kid.”

“Well actually, it was me who sparked Billy’s nickname, his real name’s William though so I guess he is the Kid. isn’t he?”

Liam laughed at that, small world isn’t it?

“Hey! What’s so funny over there mister?” You sternly gazed at the man. From afar, one could argue that Liam looked young and spry but once you take a closer look, he isn’t a boy at all. He's pure man, all six feet of him. Taut muscle toned his body which was broad and clean. 

“Nothin’ darlin’, just, it’sa small world ain’t it? My name’s William too.” He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. You felt your lips turn upwards at the man in front of you.

“Well then, Mr. William, what do you do for a living?”

You smile as Liam happily responds, continuing the conversation late into the night. Even Billy and Jo had left to go roam around the festival. You and Liam continued your happy chatter, a small tug pulling at your heartstrings.

You’ve met before right? That's impossible, you two clearly have never seen each other. Yet why was it like Liam knew you better than anyone? Why did it feel as if you had already shared these smiles and laughs?

Was this even the night you two had first met?

sorry that its so long and it TOOK FOREVER to post, just been real busy anyways, i hope you enjoyed!

[shsl-box-worshipper]

So, I was rewatching the first How To Train Your Dragon movie and my mind immediately drifted to Code Lyoko (cuz of course it does), which led me to think of an interesting AU.

Code Lyoko, but set in a modern day How To Train Your Dragon setting. (Click the read more for more information about the AU cuz ohhhh boi, I infodumped hard)

Dragons are a world-wide species of animals that have learned to mostly (keyword: mostly) co-exist with humans thanks to the efforts of various cultures around the world thousands of years ago and modern preservation efforts.

Nowadays, they are viewed the same way as hawks, horses, and other useful pets: Popular and useful, but can be hard to train and can even be deadly.

Various characters in Code Lyoko actually have dragons as pets, most notably Odd since Kiwi is a Terrible Terror in this AU (And yes, it is even more of a pain for Ulrich to deal with).

Dragons, similarly to dogs and cats, aren't allowed at Kadic, but Kadic does have some dragon-related classes, a specific area on campus for them (since its kind of hard to separate tamed dragons from their owners), and some dragon lessons are integrated into otherwise normal classes.

Plot-wise, Franz, Anthea, and Aelita all had dragons. Anthea's was taken when she was kidnapped, and Aelita's got virtualized onto Lyoko along with her and Franz (there's a specific chamber in the scanner room specifically for dragons because Franz knew Aelita wouldn't leave her dragon behind no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise).

Franz's dragon, a battered-looking Night Fury whom he rescued from Project Carthage and who he named Odin, was instructed to stand guard of the Supercomputer and by extension, the factory as a whole.

One of the main difficulties Jeremie had to face while getting into the Factory to look for scrap initially was trying to avoid and hide from this lumbering, giant Night Fury that is the sole reason behind the Factory's ghost stories and that he had NO IDEA ABOUT.

When Jeremie finally turns on the supercomputer, he is greeted not only by an amnesiac pink-haired elf lady but is also met with a much younger and more spotted Night Fury, that wears armor that looks like if a cross between a viking and a knight, and is ALSO an amnesiac (I imagine that Lyoko will create virtual forms of any kind of creature that has some sort of consciousness, not just humans. Since dragons in the How To Train Your Dragon franchise are shown to be somewhat intelligent, I imagine that they could have more thorough and cohesive Lyoko forms than those of like, a fly).

Jeremie initially calls the Night Fury 'Spot' (Because it's covered in white patches compared to Franz's Night Fury, which just has a white patch on it's belly), but Aelita gets both her name and the name of the Night Fury back during the end of XANA Awakens, where it's revealed to be Tannlos (The Norwegian translation of Toothless, since the story of Hiccup and Toothless is considered a Nordic legend in the modern day and, like in canon, Franz liked reading Norse myths and legends to Aelita when she was a kid).

Tannlos, similarly to Aelita, lacks some of the necessary components needed to devirtualize or have any attacks (Yes, his breath weapon is gone on Lyoko and he can't even use it in the real world).

He's also really small, just large enough to have Aelita on his back and run with her, but too small to properly fly with her (he can still fly just fine tho without the extra weight).

As such, he mainly just acts as a method of ground transportation for Aelita and as a scout on Lyoko.

On that note, I guess I should talk about the other characters.

I've already talked about Odd having a Terrible Terror as a pet. He similarly tries to keep hidden from Jim, though it fails much more since a Terrible Terror is higher maintenance than a dog.

Ulrich's dad works as an executive at a company that researches dragons to develop various kinds of tech and his mom used to be a trainer in her youth. Since his family has to work with them frequently, Ulrich knows some basic techniques on dealing with dragons, despite his (initial) dislike of them.

Jeremie, conversely, has no skills regarding them, and his family doesn't own any, in fact. His survival against the Factory Night Fury is based on his own ingenuity, intelligence, and the basic tips he haggled out of Ulrich. He eventually manages to bond with the Factory Night Fury during XANA Awakens and it helps defend the factory against XANA attacks.

Yumi's family doesn't have any dragons and the Ishiyamas have a strict no pets rule along with that. However, Yumi is friends with a Monstrous Nightmare that lives in the woods, who she named Ryoji so that Yumi can talk about her openly in front of her parents. Yumi even lets Hiroki play with her since she effectively has tamed the dragon, despite not owning it legally.

A lot more of this AU has to deal with worldbuilding and how a modern society with actual dragons would work, as well as how dragons could both work with and against XANA's attacks. But I don't know if anyone is interested in this kind of stuff.

[drops-of-moonlights]

Mythix! Es una combinación Mythix! De fantasías y aventuras! Una experiencia nos espera En un mundo legendario El poder de Mythix! Ahora juntas lo sentimos Mythix! Y así nos sorprendimos Volamos, luchamos y enfrentamos Los misterios sin final Mythix llega ya!

The Mythix retouches are here! Almost on time with the 19th anniversary of the series lmao. This one doesn’t have as many retouches as the others (outside Roxy, and Stella and Tecna to a smaller degree) because I’m still fond of the last designs. A bit of a refresher below!

the TLDR of Mythix is “the Order of Mana made it through questionable means, if you unintentionally mimic a story, myth, folklore, legend or the like (or commit an act worthy of becoming one) you get this form modeled after both the story and the fashion of the person’s realm”. As such, each of the girls’s outfits are essentially modernized versions of typical clothing back in their homes. All of them are, of course, then based on the actual culture I primarily took from real life to build their realms:

Melodeus is obviously mainly inspired by China, and so the primary inspo for Musa’s Mythix was the qipao and the shuhe, with some more modern and punkish details to fit with Musa’s personality.

Linphea in the AU is primarily based on Colombia, and Flora’s Mythix is a shortened adaptation of Andine Colombian folklore dresses, which are commonly used for dancing, going along with the legend she dealt with.

Scintil’s main inspiration is Norway, and with this Bloom’s Mythix is a heavily-modified bunad in shape. Her hair ribbons alongside her cone buns are meant to mimic a dragon’s horns and whiskers, respectively, to go alongside the myth she fought with.

NOW ROXY’S INTERESTING LMAO. Her story, being from Earth, was Tam Lin, but as Roxy’s original realm is Tir na nÓg (which while taken from Celtic folklore she wouldn’t be Celt nor Irish herself), her attire is instead based off what was the typical attire at the time. (It’s based on Morgana’s canon fairy form, which is ironic as the “villain” in the way she dealt with the myth was heavily fashioned after AU!Morgana’s Ascendix.)

Solaria is mostly based on Hellenistic regions (so it covers pretty much the entire Mediterranean area), and her form is primarily fashioned after the Greek chiton, with some inspiration from the later Roman footwear and a minor inspiration in Egyptian belts.

Andros is primarily inspired in Ethiopia, with Aisha’s Mythix being modeled in modernized and modified versions of both men and women’s styles. Her puffy shorts and the frills at the edges of her vest are also vaguely inspired by jellyfish, as the myth she dealt with involved a gigantic one.

Finally, Zenith has an incredibly vague mix of both Victorian England and Russian menswear, because Butch Tecna Supremacy, and it’s meant to represent the standard working-class attire, fitting the role she fulfilled in the legend.

[yestrday]

in any of your universes, are visions still a thing? especially in the hybrid and academy universes? :o and this might be a silly question, but are tighnari, gorou, and otherwise other animal-like characters still have their animal features in the academy au? I'd assume so but idk maybe in a modern sense, animal characteristics aren't as common?

my aus take place in a modern teyvat, but visions do not exist anymore! they're a thing of the long-forgotten past that people have started calling them as myths and legends! but that doesn't mean that other magical elements are gone!

in the academy au, hybrid bloodlines still exist, although they're far weaker than the ones in genshin. if they're of yokai descent or something like that, it's not unheard of for them to control the elements, but it's also still extremely rare.

in the hybrid au, hybrids are almost everywhere, but you can't say that they're on equal footing with humans. although the hybrid are stronger than humans, there are more of the latter and they have the tools to make the hybrids submit. having multiple hybrids is a sign of wealth among humans, but it is also a magnet of hatred for hybrids.

the hybrids are classed into two types: normal and mythical. normal hybrids don't have any magical powers whatsoever except for the enhanced senses that comes with their animal form, but mythical hybrids are like deities. they can control the elements, but they have never been spotted by humans before.

in the househusband au, you may not have noticed, but venti's headcanons mention his vision. again, just like the academy au, they're a thing of the past, but venti is still the god of mondstadt and still retains his powers. i was about to go down this route for zhongli too, but I remembered that he's not a god anymore, so he probably ended up dying lmao

re: the academy and househusband aus also double as reincarnation aus and therefore still in teyvat (but no visions), but the hybrid au is in a whole other dimension

[snowbellewells]

Happy Happy Birthday Jennifer!! @whimsicallyenchantedrose

So, while I wasn’t able to write you a brand new birthday story this year, I thought it might be fun to highlight my all-time favorites of your stories. You were the first fandom friend I met and interacted with, we talked the show and plot points and character development together, and you helped me begin to navigate Tumblr back when I first joined. It’s been a gift to know you all that time, and your writing is a gift to us all! You’ve written so many GREAT stories that it was hard to narrow down, but I have settled on my top half dozen at last to highlight for your special day -- with some cover art for a few of them!!! 💖 Hope this gift serves to remind you of all you’ve written and created and how much all of it - and you!! - are loved. 🥰

The Strongest Magic - This short MC is one of your very early works - a Neverland season 3a divergent tale, but where it diverges gives us powerful adventure and emotion, sacrifice, and much earlier admission and acceptance of the love between our Pirate and Princess. I simply adore it - it squeezes your heart for sure, but it also wraps you up in a wonderful happy ending by the time you are finished.

A Wish Your Heart Makes , Getting to I Do & Mysterious Fathoms Below - This series of longer, connected multi-chapters (The "By Land or By Sea" trilogy) is simply EPIC!!! I don't know how to sing the praises of this story half as much as it deserves. There's adventure in the Enchanted Forest, Camelot, and even under the sea! There's so much beautiful love story for CS (and even some lovely, redemptive Outlaw Queen as well), and @whimsicallyenchantedrose even incorporates some unexpected and perfectly cast characters of myth and legend and her own creation alongside our faves. I don't want to give too much away, but these stories MUST BE read! Once you do, you'll want to read them over and over again.

Happily Ever After - This short MC was originally part of your Fluffy Fridays compilation, and I have often revisited the few chapters of this on their own and definitely think of them as their own little stand-alone story. I love the family recipes, the competition, the rivalry that becomes something much sweeter.... it's a truly delicious addition to your collection of writing!

Caribbean Shores - This lovely little MC reads more like a modern day AU, though they are in Storybrooke and many of our favorite characters still appear. I love the cute sweetness of this one, and the adorable addition of a few scheming cuties from MM's class when she takes them for a field trip tour of the Jolly Roger from Killian. ;) All the sizzle and attraction is there for Emma and Killian right from the start, and though she tries to resist (Why is she always so stubborn?!?) She can't do it for long...

Under the Apple Tree - It's hard to even express how much I adore this fic originally written between season six and season seven of canon. The way @whimsicallyenchantedrose wove in what we knew might be coming in season seven and then supposed what still could happen (a lot of which I would have loved to really see!) is simply brilliant. I love the relationships explored and the way the plot unfolds. It's a special and unique version of our beloved characters, and of course the unstoppable power of Captain Swan to always find each other again is fully on display too! ;p

Until the Stars are all Alight - Wow, this story must have been such a daunting task to undertake - one I would have been afraid to tackle, but the skill with which the OuaT world and the LotR world are woven together, how the plotlines come together and reach fruition, and how the characters coincide for best use so seamlessly is truly admirable and just adds to the depth and power of this full multi-chapter adventure. It has heart and hope and True Love conquering all - all the best things we love so much from the world of fairy tales and the brain of J.R. R. Tolkien!

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Your rant about college au's and high school- first of all, I relate lol. Second of all, I had a slightly different college experience because I went to school at a teeny tiny women's college (700 students at most, no Greek life, no football). So it wasn't that there was a single student everyone knew, but that everyone just knew everyone. I love that I had that experience, but honestly reading Physical Paradox makes me wonder what going to a bigger school, a larger pond, if you will, would have been like. My grad school is still super tiny compared to most colleges in the state even though it feels a bit bigger to me. Maybe I'll get to experience it for my post doc - but if I only experience it through Physical Paradox, I can't complain :)

See, that reminds me of small-town syndrome. And as someone who is from a semi-small town, and whose mom is definitely from a small town (like, you mention her maiden name to someone there and everyone in a ten-foot radius knows who you're talking about 🙃) I feel like I would have hated that lol.

Though, I will say I went to a community college for a couple years before university, and that was actually really nice. But there weren't really people I saw regularly.

There's a level of anonymity to a big school that's super comforting.

I RANTED AND IT IS BELOW THE CUT 😂😂

When it came to my school, there were around... 35-40k students when I was in undergrad? We had a homecoming king and queen every year who were from some of the larger organizations or greek groups, but I couldn't tell you their names then or now. No one except the people in those orgs cared. Ever. They got people to vote by offering them free things. No one cared because it was literally just, "I need to survive this week. My future is on the line so why do I give a fuck if some asshole gets to walk on the football field and wear a fake crown?"

We had a student body president, but AGAIN I COULD NOT TELL YOU THE NAME OF ANY OF THEM EVER. (wait, that's a lie, one of my friends went to high school with one of them, so I spoke to him once in the hallway of the English building when he stopped to talk to her - long before he became student body president - and then promptly never spoke to him ever again. I think his name was Ben? 🤔)

I wasn't in any clubs, and I was never in a sorority, either, so things were likely very different for people who were. But I really enjoyed my undergrad and grad experience. I was depressed as fuck, but I still am, so I can't blame school for that lol.

When it came to recognizing people, I'm not joking when I say Mahomes was the only one people recognized. The quarterback a few years later was one of my friends' students and SHE HAD NO FUCKING CLUE WHO HE WAS AND NEITHER DID THE REST OF US BECAUSE WE STOPPED CARING ONCE WE COULDN'T GO TO THE GAMES FOR FREE.

If anything, there were a few professors who taught the basic courses that everyone knew because they'd taken a class with them because they had to at some point (a history, anthropology, science, or art history class). But I'm talking like, "Oh, Dr. Whatshisface, who teaches that one super weird class that counts as this core credit so you don't have to take the boring version? Yeah, everyone took that class." there was a professor who taught a northern myths and legends class who looked like a mix of Chris Hemsworth and Russel Crowe, it was strange. He also taught German. Most people had heard of him because he dressed up as Thor every Halloween to make his students laugh. He was really nice. He let us watch movies as extra credit.

Now, departments? Oh, the departments talked. Every department had professors everyone knew or hated or loved. My fave prof was a lit professor everyone thought was super hot (I've genuinely always been creeped out by this, and what's funnier is that he was also creeped out.) My least favorite was the asshole I've mentioned before, and literally no one liked him.

SO. Physical Paradox Goinko makes sense from a professor perspective because word spreads about the good and bad professors. "Don't take this guy because he's an asshole" "take this professor because she's wonderful" "if you take this guy, the class fucking sucks but it's actually really great and you learn a lot" "that guy is a dick, but he's actually a good teacher if you give him a chance"

That kind of shit always goes around. People ask acquaintances about professors or specific classes because a professor makes or breaks that class for the semester. I remember being devastated when a class I was taking got switched to a different prof last minute and GUESS WHAT IT WAS HORRIBLE. ONE OF THE ONLY B'S I GOT IN GRAD SCHOOL. FUCK THAT GUY.

But I'm trying to keep it as realistic as possible when it comes to the student aspect. Because people just don't know each other and they honestly don't give a fuck most of the time. You meet someone in a class and you become decent enough friends, but if you never speak to them again after that? Meh. No biggie. That's what Rinko and Geto were like before the class in Theoretical Introduction. They likely would have still become better friends in that class, even without Gojo there, though.

Grad school was different because you have cohorts and those are smaller groups of people you're with until you finish your program, but even then? I know next to nothing about anyone who was in my program aside from my best friend. BUT WE ONLY BECAME GOOD FRIENDS BECAUSE WE WERE OFFICE MATES. WE WOULD HAVE NEVER SPOKEN OUTSIDE OF CLASSES IF NOT FOR THAT. I think there were five(? it's been so long I actually can't remember) of us, and we became friends in that we occasionally grabbed drinks together and graded together but beyond that? I still speak to two people, including my best friend. The other lives kinda close to me now anD I JUST REALIZED I HAVEN'T RESPONDED TO A TEXT FROM HER IN WEEKS HOLY FUCK WE WERE TRYING TO PLAN GETTING DINNER-

okay rant over i'm gonna go reply and try to be a decent friend 🫠🫠🫠

[beardedmrbean]

Okay I go to point it out that yes it sad that I have never seen what my direct ancestors look like in ancient and medieval times. And probably never will

But this post I found probably point out a issue I been noticing https://www.tumblr.com/ainomica/686212780028739584

Wait

Are

Late Gen x leftists

And millennials

Using

Pop Culture

As the basic

For

Human warriors

Knowledge?

Oh that explains the black Vikings shit

Yes let say that black peoples were deadass part of some of the most prolific slave traders and rapists in human history? Ooookay!

But let me use my Chimera republic as example of my fantasy au

Though btw the chimera republic is basically fantasy USA strong arming all of the Americas into an empire. Yeah the Americans (or perhaps prime chimerans) are tongue and cheek about but allow the cultures and languages to exist

But let me set up a story-wait best anon

But I think the issues is a lot of people view history from pop culture. No metroplation blacks

Just because pedo land aka Hollywood don’t glorified African warriors at the moment. Doesn’t mean their ( unless they’re pos like the Dahomey) stories shouldn’t be told

Do social media make everyone have the mentality of a bitter 15 year old or something?

>The analogy between Samurai and cops is also appropriate because they used to "break in" new swords by killing peasants who were outside past curfew.

So much samurai stuff is just BS myths, undoubtedly the "insult" thing was abused regularly, I'm not sure how bad the insult needed to be but still.

Class stuff in that post is still pretty much spot on to my knowledge, but a lot of the legends and such are actually myths.

This guy was funny, because he wasn't doing a bit. I think the idea behind the Vikings and Celts came out of the need to cry about dreadlocks belonging to black people and evidence proves those two groups also had a hairstyle like that, so obviously that means they were black somehow.

This is another fun one, USJW is a joke blog

Aztecs and Olmec's are in the mix in this one

Yes let say that black peoples were deadass part of some of the most prolific slave traders and rapists in human history? Ooookay!

Everyone is guilty, sooner we can accept that the sooner we can stop blaming everyone else.

But let me use my Chimera republic as example of my fantasy au Though btw the chimera republic is basically fantasy USA strong arming all of the Americas into an empire. Yeah the Americans (or perhaps prime chimerans) are tongue and cheek about but allow the cultures and languages to exist

Look up the Ottoman Empire, they were good about that occasionally, at least on paper they were. Achaemenid (Persian) Empire too, long as nobody rebels and everyone pays their taxes you can keep your language, culture, and religion. Again it was like that on paper, reality is it's own thing.

But I think the issues is a lot of people view history from pop culture. No metroplation blacks

probable, of course then people start to emulate them and that's when it gets bad, emulate Uncle Phil instead

Just because pedo land aka Hollywood don’t glorified African warriors at the moment. Doesn’t mean their ( unless they’re pos like the Dahomey) stories shouldn’t be told

Both should be told, truthful dahomey type people stories would be good as well as folks that didn't sell off their fellow Africans to Arabs and Europeans.

Problem is

way way back we just don't know, nobody does for sure, and less way back the slave trade kicked into high gear and folks were gettin sold to people in the MENA region.

Might need to just go off of mythology or oral tradition stories, searching for all this stuff gets rough because you look up Africa and you get Egypt and the rest of northern Africa.

Do social media make everyone have the mentality of a bitter 15 year old or something?

Twitter made it so people could only digest information in tiny doses, which meant nuance was lost, which in turn created a lot of ignorance, which human nature when it comes to pride makes admitting ignorance difficult, which made people's ability to actually hold a conversation where differing viewpoints are brought into play vanish.

Same with Facebook except the difference is there's only so much text you can add to a minions meme.

Reddit is good for creating a echo chamber, but at least you can put a lot of text down but living in a echo chamber tends to make one believe that their opinion is the majority one when reality may be totally different.

I do not envy mental health professionals, things are going to get worse as worse for them in the coming years.

[bonjourxrenae]

.hack//YGO Characters, Classes, and Archetypes (Part I)

(aka the main reasons why I rotate this AU in my brain every damn night)

I have decided to be particularly passionate about this AU because it works so well and Quill (@themadcaptain) and I have been bouncing ideas off of each other on and off about this...... the more we learn about The World and the .hack// franchise, the more I fall deeper into this idea of all these card game nerds playing a high-stakes mmo (instead of the usual high stakes card games)

Below the cut is what we think their mmo classes would be, or what characters they would be based on!

disclaimer: neither of us have played past the original ps2 games or watched past .hack//SIGN, so we have no idea what the newer classes are or how they would synergize with these characters;;; however all of this is subject to change once we eventually play the .hack//G.U. remaster

First of all, Ryou as a Wavemaster is the #1 reason this au even exists. I mean, look at these designs, they were MADE for him:

Left to Right: Kazu from .hack//Legend of the Twilight (manga); Elk from the .hack//Games; Tsukasa from .hack//SIGN

Just guys and gals with loose fitting clothing, silly hats, and a big staff. It's absolutely right up his alley, particularly what we've seen from small bits in the Monster World Arc and the Duelist Kingdom Arc:

Ryou just likes being a mage and a healer. He demands it, and who am I to tear him from that path?

He uses the handle Amane in The World - a tribute to his little sister :')

Speaking of light magic users, Yugi as a Twin Blade makes perfect sense. Twin Blades are among the most balanced classes in The World, with decent attack stat growth and magic stats... very much a "jack of all trades" kind of class. While they can't equip the strongest weapons/armor or use higher level magics, twin blades are absolutely pro at fast multi-hit attacks, and can exploit elemental weaknesses in enemies.

Yugi uses the handle Kameshi in The World, though I may change this to something more fitting later; it's written using the kanji 亀嗣 (is this how Japanese works?)

There are quite a few Twin Blade designs - beforehand, I only had knowledge of these two Twin Blade characters:

From Left to Right: Sora from .hack//SIGN; Kite from the .hack//Games

But then I saw Haseo from .hack//ROOTS and the .hack//G.U. games and... well...

I MEAN...

(Also, peep that eye wave design on Haseo's shoulder... it's an extremely plot-relevant wave design... but I'm just saying, that could very easily be mistaken at first glance for the udjat or wedjat eye.....)

And of course Atem would also have the same Twin Blade skin, but their wave designs would be mirrored... if you're familiar with the .hack//Games, he's playing a similar role as Helba, a mysterious hacker who helps out the main protagonists with the Data Bugs in the system, as well as with facing off against the main antagonist.

(In some early concept art below, I gave him a snake mask - most of The World is rooted in Germanic myths, but I wanted to have this AU's version of The World have more Egyptian mythos, so Atem's avatar is known as Apophis.)

(In this early concept art I gave him an avatar similar to Sora's, but I've decided against that after all.)

(Debatable.)

I've also talked a bit about Kaiba in my last post, and I am absolutely slapping him firmly into the role of Balmung - one of the most famous players in The World and the one who has been combating the Data Bugs alone, refusing to work with the hackers who have been fighting the common enemy. I imagine his avatar looks incredibly similar to Balmung's as well, although I don't think he would be a Blademaster... or maybe he would? I picture him as a Long Arm, mostly because it gives me Dragoon vibes, but idk!

Staying firmly with the Egyptian myth theming, his handle is Set (of the Azure Eyes).

Pictured: Balmung of the Azure Skies, as he appears in the .hack//XXXX manga and concept art from the .hack//Games

Helba and Balmung have some fun dialogue at the start of the .hack//Games... so I'd imagine things would be a lot snarkier between Apophis and Set...

I really don't go to Prideshipping School but UHHHHHHH I may have to start???

And uhhh... wow this post got really long... I'll continue with the others in a future post! If you managed to stick around and read all this - thank you for indulging me! :') <3

[the-monkey-ruler]

is the novel something like historical fiction au? it still has emperor taizang but the monk is obviously different

I wouldn't call that an accurate way to describe it as it makes it sounds like someone saw the original journey of Xuanzangand just made the conscious decision to add mythological elements in one go. It was more of a gradual change.

The history of how Journey ot the West made by Wu Cheng'en is a long and very complex creation that has been in the works for hundreds of years all because of the story being told orally again and again with many different variations, and from those variations, certain elements would stick in retellings that make it more popular or meaningful. The best example of this was the choice to give Xuanzanga Monkey Acotlye.

This isn't unusual for Great Chinese classics to be historical but they have added fictional or romanticized events to make the tale more dramatic for the reader. Similar to Romance of the Three Kingdoms, it is based on the Records of the Three Kingdoms and adds elements of legend and myth that adds more meaning and symbolism within the texts.

Journey to the West is based on the accounts of Great Tang Records on the Western Regions that cover his travels within his writings making such a valuable historical well of information of that time period. But it was a story that was told again and again.

This story of Xuanzang having companions on his journey continues to grow more and more into folklore as certain elements kept changing as well, such as exaggerating Xuanzang's perils into being demon creations to be his trials or giving him a backstory tied to the Golden Cicada. Also in retellings they his Monkey Acotlye more story importance by either borrowing from other monkey legends around the area or being inspired by both Buddist and Daoist legends as well.

What has become a retelling then becomes a more reworking of the narrative into something that ties in much more allegorical meanings, drama, action, and comedy, all for the sake of being both entertaining and still appealing to high-class literature.

It still isn't in stone that even Wu Cheng'en is the original author but rather he is 'mostly likely' the author all things considered. But the tales of Xuanzang and his interpretation of the character Tang Sanzang was a long and drawn-out process that I think was before Wu Cheng'en was inspired by the legends to create a cohesive, beautiful narrative.

Xiyouji has a lot of things tied to it being religious, political, cultural, historical, so it falling under historical fiction as a gene isn't wrong per say but it isn't just what it is.