#MythologyGirlFanfic

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Phoenix Down: Chapter One

Summary: Her parents must have really wanted a son if they named their only child - a girl at that - Marco. (OC Reincarnation/Rebirth story) OrAn obsessive gamer girl is reborn and now has to navigate the world of One Piece as a female version of Marco the Phoenix. Shenanigans ensue as she drags everyone around her into her delusions do to the trauma caused by the loss of her precious games. So what if she gives her so called brothers a few heart attacks when she pretends to be dead until one of them yells, if not a little dramatically, “PHOENIX DOWN” with an accompanying eye roll, before ‘reviving’ along the way. That's just part of the fun. The poor Whitebeard Pirates are in near constant exasperation with their sister’s sure, but that doesn’t mean they love her any less. Now, if only she could convince Ace that MMOs were a real thing.

Rating: T

She had been a gamer.

Had being the key word here. This crazy ass land she had been reborn into didn’t seem to have any games unless she wanted to play pirates and marines with the other island kids. Which she didn’t. She really, really didn’t.

Still, the look on her new mother’s face when she had asked for a Playstation 4 for her fifth birthday (because 5 was old enough in her last life to finally convince her parents video games weren’t poison sent by Satan) would have been hilarious, you know, if she hadn’t been holding back her own hysteric tears when she realized there was no such thing in this life. (Her new parents had thought she was suffering from delirium when she begged and screamed that it couldn’t be true. That particular trip to the village doctor hadn’t been fun.)

How the hell did these people live!?

She found out the answer to that desperate question the hard way. They farmed. No kidding. She was reborn into a family of farmers and let her tell you, real farming was not as fun as virtual farming. It couldn’t even hold a candle to the former's blazing inferno of hours spent cultivating crops bigger than her character’s head. Seriously, what the hell was this shit?

Not only did she have to wait months for any of the hard labor to bear fruit (literally), the food they cultivated only went for a few measly beri! (Which was apparently the name of the currency in this world.) How was she supposed to afford all the gifts for birthdays and such to give to everyone in the village in order to make them love her if her family was hardly making ends meet as it was? She had tried giving the Mayor a weed from the fields one, the sour look the old man gave her was enough to say he wasn’t pleased out all. Marco couldn’t help but think he should get inline with that displeasure though because she felt cheated too.

Very, very cheated.

Thank the lord that has otherwise forsaken her that she got her new mother’s normal shaped head instead of her new father’s egg shaped one. That would have been a particularly hard curse to break. She still got his droopy as fuck eyes though, which may have been more from her soul slowly shriveling and decaying from lack of any high graphic stimulation than it was hereditary.

Give her a break, she never said she wasn’t dramatic .

She also kept her light blonde hair long in this life, where in her last she had cropped it short. No matter what anyone in the village said about Mom 2.0 being a sweetheart could ever shake Marco’s feelings of fear when the woman brandished a pair of shears, threatening to cut off Marco’s fingers, if her daughter so much as even thought about cutting her locks any shorter then just below the shoulder. It was a pain, but Marco would suffer having to wash her hair more than once every three days if it meant the woman would would just put the shears down before she took out an eye. She liked her appendages where they were, thank you.

As Marco grew older in this new world, her wish that a restart button so she could remake her avatar existed grew with her. Sure, it wasn’t as if her avatar wasn’t cute - she was adorable, thank you! - but she wanted something more exciting, some sort of feature that would really make her stand out among the NPC villagers around her. She didn’t want to be just another two-bit character that was easily forgotten in this life - not again.

Problem was she didn’t know how to be anything but a side character here. In the last life she lived, that blissful technology induced wonderful life, she had been able curb her inadequacies and discontent with her games. She could be whomever she wanted whenever she wanted. Here she could only ever be Marco, the daughter and only child to a pair of farmers, and she wanted to make the best of that - would make the best of that.

The young girl nodded proudly to herself, possible crisis averted. She had a new life goal, a new mission: be the best damn girl named Marco that ever lived!

Mission title: Make the World a Game.

When she finally realized where she was, who she was, everything changed.

She was Marco the fucking Phoenix. Future 1st division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates and overall fiery badass. She hadn’t been reborn as some random NPC with cognizant thoughts, that had been born purely to cause havoc upon her new home village. No, she had been reborn as a significant part of the Whitebread crew, she had been reborn a pirate. And, despite the fact she felt a little bad for taking Original Marco’s place, she was just as thrilled she had.

It had been her tenth birthday and her withdrawal from the world of 21st century geekary was starting to have adverse effects on her when she had finally figured that tiny piece of information out. She blamed her slow uptake on the fact that she didn’t follow the anime that closely, instead she mainly liked to play the games. Though, she does supposes that adorable verbal tick of ‘yoi’ she had randomly developed in this life should have been a major hint of just where and who she was.

After her discovery had actually sunk in, she did what anyone one would do when they found out they have taken over the life of a fictional character - she screamed like a fangirl. The loud shrieking - akin to a particularly annoying bird Dad 2.0 would grumble fondly - escaping from her tiny body had startled Mom 2.0 so much she had dropped the cake she had painstakingly baked. Marco did feel a little guilty about that, after all, the older woman’s cakes Marco was certain come from food heaven.

Wait. Stop.

New life goal: get the Whitebeard Pirates to play a live version of Plants vs. Zombies.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Life Gone By - Plot Bunny (Naruto & One Piece Crossover)

Title: Life Gone By

Fandom: Naruto & One Piece

Pairing(s): More than likely gen. Though, I kinda want Tobirama to have a harem.

Idea/Notes:

Tobirama lived a life full of grief and death. When he passed on he would remain known as either a murder or a hero depending on who you asked, but one thing people could usually agree on was that the Nidaime had been loyal. To his village. To his students. To his brother. However, what happens to that loyalty when the Senju is reincarnated into a world unlike his own?

After leading enemy combatants away from his team,a team full of students he had basically raised (I have a headcanon where most, if not all, the shinobi working under Tobirama at that point where orphans that he took under his wing and became a father to.), Tobirama was killed in action, yet in his death he was lead to his next greatest adventure. Born in a new world where pirates and marines reign supreme, he must learn to navigate in this new life without chakra.

I am undecided of where the in the One Piece timeline this would start or if Tobirama would be related to any of the characters, but these are some of the ones I am leaning towards:

- Tobirama is the younger brother or just ends up really good friends with Monkey D. Garp. In this the former ninja would become a marine and work from the inside to reform the cruel ways of the world he finds himself in. Still cold and calculating, he tends to be misunderstood and it comes to a surprise to many that the man is related/friends with the laidback Garp. The story would mainly take place way before the series actually starts.

- Tobirama is a pirate and joins up with the Roger Pirates. Whether he is related to Roger or Rouge, I don’t know, but if this is the path this ends up taking I would like for it to be one of them. If he is related to Roger, the Pirate King knows from the beginning that his brother is different - that he has live a life before - and tries to understand the former shinobi as much as he can. The problem is, Roger reminds Tobirama a lot of Hashirama and things can become a bit tense between the two due to this.

- The third idea is that Tobirama is about the same age as most of the Straw Hats, possibly related to one of the supernovas, and gets swept up in the canon plot.

Possible Tobirama genderbend.

Snippet:

None right now as I have to get ready for work and couldn’t think of anything to actually write. :P

[mythologygirlfanfic]

The Eggplant Conspiracy: One-Shot

Summary:  Kakashi will never look at food the same way again.

Rating: K

When Kakashi awoke he noticed something was off right away; his skin felt more leathery, his muscles more stiff. Reluctantly, he rolled off his bed, padded into bathroom and flicked on the light to prepare for his morning routine of shower, brush teeth, and get dressed in the clothes he had hung up in the bathroom closet the night before. However, he froze when he went to get undressed when he noticed that his skin was no longer the pale shade it had been, but a dark purple and that his body was also oddly shaped; his ‘belly’ protruding so he could hardly see his feet - which no longer had toes, appearing more as thin sticks in a ‘L’ shape - making him quickly rush to the mirror to get a look at his reflection. The Copy-nin barely contained an internal scream when, instead of where a human should have been standing, there was an eggplant with a face-mask (that looked more like something a bandit would wear) and mussed silver hair.

Kakashi instantly tried to dispel the genjustu before checking the mirror again - he was still a vegetable. He attempted three more times before giving up with a mumbled, “What the fuck?”

In a daze the human-sized eggplant continued to get ready for the day. He figured it was either a strong hallucination from lack of sleep due to consecutive missions and having to deal with his hyperactive students. He was sure that it would eventually wear off given time. If he knew how bizarre the rest of day would be he would have never have answered the door when an the overly insistent knocking sounded, the wood of the front door shaking with the force of the hits.

“Gai,” Kakashi began slowly in greeting, after he opened the door, blinking down at his now very short, bumpy ovalish comrade. “You’re a potato.”

“Rival,” the tan colored potato (a Kennebec?) yelled out affronted. “How could you say such an unyouthful thing?”

Kakashi watched in morbid fascination when a river of tears started to stream out of Potato-Gai’s creepy peeled out eye sockets. “...I’m sorry?”

Potato-Gai’s tears vanished just as quickly as they appeared, replaced by an overly bright smile - a shine pinging off the pearly white’s (since when did potatoes have teeth?) - and his black hair blowing to the side dramatically when he performed one of his ‘Nice Guy’ poses that he was so famous for - a beautiful sunset appearing behind him. “No worries my rival!”

Kakashi brought up one of his ‘hands’ to scratch the side of his face, nearly flinching at the odd shape of it and the reminder his hands were more sticks than actual, well, hands. He pushed those thoughts aside as he got to more pressing matters, “Why are you here?”

Potato-Gai blinked, startled out of his sunset backdrop by the inquiry, eyebrows scrunching together (Kakashi took comfort in the fact they were still huge, rectangular, and bushy) as if he were trying to recall why exactly he had come to his 'Most Youthful Rival's' abode. It didn't take long before Potato-Gai once again struck a ridiculous pose - one arm in the air and the other on his hip area as he leaned his bumpy body out to the left - announcing, "Hokage-sama, has requested our most Youthful presence!"

"Saa," the silver-haired eggplant made of sound of agreement. He moved out into the hallway, after grabbing his pack, which he had left by the entrance, closing the door behind him, "we better not keep Tsunade-sama waiting."

“Yosh! The perfect chance for another challenge,” Potato-Gai declared, probably waking more than half of Kakashi’s neighbors with his loud booming voice. “The first one to the Hokage’s office shall be considered the most youthful!”

And with that the eggplant and potato made there way out into the sunlight.

Potato-Gai burst through the window off the office, shattering the glass as he leapt through first, rolling on the ground several times before stopping on his knees, hand on chin and a large smile across his face in victory. Kakashi leaping through the threshold on a second or two behind.

Kakashi’s first thought upon entering the Hokage’s cozy work place for an apparent mission briefing only to find more human-sized consumable items surrounding the room was, ‘How is this my life?’ His next was that he really shouldn’t be surprised with how many walking, talking foods he saw on the way here or that all the carvings in the Hokage Monument where also various food products. His last thought was why he was the only one actually wearing anything besides a headband… Kakashi shuddered.

“You’re late Kaka-sensei!” The narutimaki shouted, pointing a stick like arm at them in accusation Kakashi didn’t even need the messy blond hair and familiar whiskers to know this was his ramen loving student. “Bushier Brows-sensei was supposed to get you here on time!”

The sakura mochi whacked Narutimaki-Naruto, making the white, pink spiraled topping fall to the floor with a pain yelp, whining out, “Sakuuuura-chan!”

“Stop shouting!” the pinkish mochi, Sakura, screeched.

“You are the loser of this Most Esteemed Match, my rival!” Gai shouted dramatically completely ignoring the two ‘youthful’ ninja before him. “That means you must take upon you a punishment!”

“Maa, laps around the village,” Kakashi said uncaringly.

“No,” Gai said, a glint forming in his eye and his voice taking a sinister tone, making Kakashi start to sweat nervously. Gai and everyone behind him pulled out sharpened peelers, eyes shadowed and evil grins.

“Peeling.”

Kakashi shot up, hand on his chest, and gasping for air. When he finally got his breathing under control he examined one of his shaking hands and nearly sighed with unrestrained relief - it was human, not a stick, five fingers and all. He lifted his hand to run through his hair, damp with sweat, from the horror he had experience.

“…. A dream?”

One thing was for sure, he would never look at food the same way again.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

So You Wanna Be a Saniwa? - Chapter One

Story Summary:

When you had been a little all you ever wanted was to be a Pokemon trainer, not the master to a bunch of handsome anthropomorphic swords. Still, you supposed you would just have to ‘catch’ them all anyway. .

Rating: T

                                                                                                   Chapter One: Not a Squirtle

The wind howled outside the thin, shoji doors as if it were trying to mirror the force of your agitation. You mainly ignored it. There were more pressing matters to attend to then a brewing storm.

“You promised me a Squirtle.”

Pressing matters, indeed.

“I promised you a starter.” The old man stated calmly, the regal air around him never once faltering in the face of your… oddity. “Yamanbangiri is one of the swords that all potential Saniwa have chosen from.”

That was true. He had promised you a starter and, perhaps, you shouldn’t have assumed that he was talking about a Pokemon. Still, this conniving dude had taken advantage of your innocent, slightly unrealistic, dream! What were supposed to think when the well dressed stranger approached you saying you had the power to change the world and the he would help you achieve your first milestone by granting you the means of obtaining a partner to help you on your journey.

You glanced over towards the young man sitting next to the lying codger. He was a quite one, having yet to speak a word to either of you since he manifested from the sword you had sunk your spiritual energy into, his features remaining hidden beneath the ratty cloak he wore besides a small sliver of blonde hair peeking out. You quirked an eyebrow. “He’s not a Squirtle.”

“I am aware.”

“You promised me a Squirtle.” You asserted once again, more forcefully as your gaze turned back to the aged man. The wrinkled bastard wasn’t going to get away with tricking you like this, not if you had anything to say about it.

“Does the fact that I am a duplicate bother you?”

The voice was light, barely audible and filled with such self-loathing, that you felt your heart constrict. It made you feel like the Grinch before his heart grew, selfish and mean. You’re head tilted again towards the young man, once sword, and spoke just as quietly. “It’s not. It’s not that you’re a duplicate or whatever. It’s just, well, you’re not a Squirtle and, hum.” You floundered, voice trailing off as the cloaked man, lifted his head to finally give you a few of the saddest, puppy eyes you had ever seen.

You quickly turned, the kimono you had been forced to wear stretching uncomfortably across your lap, to plead the older man who had gotten into this mess for help, only to have the words caught in your throat when you saw his face. He looked victorious. You had the sudden urge to punch his brittle nose in. The dick probably planned on this.

“Well,” The oldest in the room started, not even bothering to hide his smug look. There was no doubt he knew he had won, that he just had to put one final nail in your coffin before you caved and agreed to be a Saniwa. Whatever that was. (Certainly wasn’t a Pokemon Master.) “I suppose since you don’t want to do this Ms. (your name), you will just have to send Yamanbangiri here back to whence he came.”

Before you could have reply, the sword turned man, Yamanbangiri, caught you off. “Don’t worry, Saniwa-sama, it is always like this.” His body seemed to curl in on itself, even has he peeked up at you under his hood, a slight sad smile gracing his face. Another stabbing pressure shoot through your heart. “Duplicates are something people lose interest in quickly. I just... I just never expected it to be straight from the start.”

Goddamit! There was no way you were a match for this guy, sword, whatever. He was just too cute and making him feel like he wasn’t wanted was like kicking a thousand, cute and fluffy baby animals. You just couldn’t do it.

You sighed, “Explain this Saniwa business to me again.”

You refused to admit the small sense of satisfaction when Yamanbangiri’s eyes light up, listening intently as the dream crushing liar began his explanation once again of what would be expected of you. Here’s to your future life as possibly one of the most loved and admired Saniwa in history - at least by your anthropomorphic sword army.

"Saniwa-sama," Yamanbagiri called, hesitantly as you both walked out of the meeting room, only continuing when you gently coaxed him. "What's a Squirtle?"

You started regretting all your life choices.

Author’s Note: Some of Yamanbangiri’s dialogue is from the game.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

The Art of Lying: Chapter Two

Story Summary:

I was reborn as a coward and a liar, yet I was alright with that because that is what I had been.

Rating: T

                                                                   Chapter One: The Art of Baby Life

Being a baby again was more than a little traumatizing and I was extremely thankful I didn’t remember my initial test run. I had the soul of an old woman, old enough to be my new caretakers grandmother, so having them change my soiled diapers and the breastfeeding was all sorts of uncomfortable.

The biggest nightmare however was delivered messily wrapped to me by whom I assumed was my new father. The man meant well, that was easy to see. (And wasn’t that the fiasco when my vision developed enough to see, the first thing greeting me was a monstrous seeming man, thanks to my own miniscule height, hanging over my crib and making horrific faces. He was certainly startled when I started screaming like a banshee.) He was apparently very excited to have a progeny as he loved to tot me everywhere to brag to anyone who would listen and even those who really didn’t want to. At least, that is what I was assuming he was doing as he had a huge small his face and constantly gestured towards me where I hung helplessly in the sling across his narrow chest. I still didn’t really have a grasp on the language to be one hundred percent sure.

Heck, sometimes he would even boast to me about himself. Taking me out to the backyard and propping me up against a mountain of fluff, slightly musty pillows as he shoot down can after can from a rather great distance. I was duly impressed, though I had never really been one for guns. My gurgles of awe and happy shrieks never failed to make my father’s grin grow even wider as he preened. The man lived for praise and it was even better if that praise was coming from his wife or daughter.

Yet, those were the good times. The times were I didn’t have to contain my sobs of absolute terror and wish that eye-bleach was an actual thing or that my faulty memory would kick in and just erase it from my mind. Oh, how I wish I were just being dramatic here.

One of the things I failed to consider when I first realized I had been reincarnated was any and all possible cultural differences. It was something I rarely thought about in my past life and not something that I thought would be important in this new one. I had been proven wrong. Many times over, in fact.

My skin crawled just thinking about it.

“Usopp-chan,” my father practically crowed as he all but danced into my view. “It’s bath time!”

I swore.

It was a shame everything just came out in babbles, drool dripping down my chin like a leaky faucet. I doubt my father would have understood English anyway. As it was he was simply cooing over how adorable I was, as he gently picked me up from the blanket I was set upon earlier.

‘Bath time’ were some of the only words I had picked up so far in this world, mainly because I dreaded it so much that I didn’t want to be surprised anymore when it was going to happen. The first few times had been enough, I craved the extra seconds needed to get my mental preparations set.

Plus, I would know when to close my eyes.

In my previous life I had been born in America to a family that was pretty much ‘no touch.’ We didn’t ever really hug or give congratulatory pats on the back and we certainly didn’t bathe naked together with our parents, which was what was going on right now. My original upbringing in no way prepared me for this. I closed my eyes and tried not to cry.

I could still recall the first time this had occurred. I was unsuspecting and naive, not to mention totally unprepared. I wailed like a broken alarm clock with not only no off button, but with a full-charged battery to boot. That had actually almost put a stop to this ‘bonding event’ as my father dubbed it entirely. I would have happily let it end to, if I had not noticed how upset and off put he was about me apparently hating him. Honestly, I was rather easy to guilt trip, even if I could lie better than the world’s greatest con man.

So, as my father jabbered happily to me in a language I was nowhere near fluent, I let myself drift off, just waiting for it to be over. All the while praying this wouldn’t turn out like it had for Kazuma in KonoSuba , I certainly didn’t remember making any deals with a stuck up goddess, but I didn’t want to count anything out.

I could only take so much misfortune.

My mother, while wonderful, had a nose longer than Pinocchio's after he lied once or twice. It was that facial feature that brought light to not only who I was reborn as, but to where exactly I had been reborn. Well, that and my name.

I was in the quiet, uneventful  place known as Syrup Village. As well as the sole child of Yasopp, a future pirate sailing under ‘Red-Hair’ Shanks, and Banchina, a woman fated to die, her one wish to see her husband again remaining unfulfilled. It was a punch to the gut when I realized both parents would eventually leave me. I had been becoming very attached to them and their easy expressions of love.

Truthfully, it made a small ball of resentment towards my father to start to roll in my gut. I made every effort to suppress it. He hadn’t left yet and I shouldn’t hate someone for something they have yet to do, this wasn’t Psycho Pass, it was One Piece. Perhaps, now that he had a daughter instead of a son, he wouldn’t leave at all. It was wishful thinking, yet I let myself hope.

It was a fragile hope, especially when on rare occasions my father would cradle me in his arms, taking me to the outskirts of the village, just to sit on the shore for hours. The waves lapping at his feet and a longing in eyes that almost hurt to see. Still, it was a hope I desperately clung to.

I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, getting back to the more pressing ‘here and now’ problem - my nose.

I was roughly five or so months old now, just having learned to sit up on my own. Which was a humongous chore in itself with the amount of strain I had to put on my weak muscles to do so. Of course, the first thing I did was check my appearance and, let me tell you, getting yourself placed in front of a mirror was not easy.

I had hoped that now that I was a girl version of Usopp, I wouldn’t have inherited my mother’s nose. Truth was, while in the show, his nose never bothered me, in fact, I found it kind of endearing, I had a lot of insecurities about my appearance that jumped lives with me. Before I had been on the chubby side with acne that refused to leave me, even well out of my teens. It didn’t really do much for my self-confidence, especially when in middle school boy’s started to ask me on fake dates, never showing up, while their supposed girlfriends’ would sometimes come by to mock me instead. I couldn’t really remember any of their faces or names, just that it had hurt  - a lot. Scars had been left behind and I’m not just talking about the ones caused by the pimples, but people held more power to harm others then I think most teenagers knew.

It was during this time, appearance became a huge deal to me. I felt inadequate compared to other girls, causing me to not only stress eat, gaining even more weight, but to throw myself into my hobbies, subjecting myself to self imposed solitary confinement. I didn’t dig myself out of that dark cell for a long time after, never truly escaping.

It made me feel like some sort of dastardly villain now, especially since I knew looks didn’t mean everything. Yet, knowing and accepting  were two completely different things. It didn’t help the twistedly grotesque feelings I had that Banchina was the sweetest mother anyone could ask to be reborn to. I truly, deeply loved her and her calm, affectionate manner. It was easy to comprehend way exactly Yasopp was so smitten with the gentle woman.

Still, I couldn’t help how I felt, often finding myself wishing I took more after my father in the facial features department. While, he had nothing distinctive about him, there was more of an appeal to being a ‘Plain Jane’ than a girl version of a living puppet.

Mother seemed to pick up on my agitation as she swiftly swooped me up into her arms, rubbing the tip of her nose against mine. I withheld a cringe. “Why such a frown, my little seashell?”

Seashell. Mother loved to call that, a cute nickname she had dubbed me with long ago. She had told me the story why, and, while my understanding of the language still wasn’t supreme, I got the gist of it. Father had proposed to her with the prettiest seashell he could find, combing the small beach encasing our island for weeks, before settling on one. It was a conch shell, a mix of blue and pink, and when the sun hit it just right it glittered so much one could easily mistake it for a precious jewel. It was beautiful.

Mother said it reminded her of me. At first I had been confused because there was no way I believed I was that pretty. The confusion most have shown on my face as she explained how, like the shell, I represented the love between father and her. Pure and unconditional.

It was the most mushy thing I have ever heard, but mother told it with such stars in her dark eyes, that I couldn’t help but to believe her if only for a second.

Leaning back slightly in her arms, ignoring the way her hold tightened in fear of dropping me, I reached up and carefully gripped her nose. A gummy grin splitting across my face. Mother gave me a smile brighter than the sun in return, a finger gently looping around my own nose.

It was at that moment I vowed, for this woman, I would try to get over my inferiority issues.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Phoenix Down: Chapter Two

Summary: Her parents must have really wanted a son if they named their only child - a girl at that - Marco. (OC Reincarnation/Rebirth story) Or

An obsessive gamer girl is reborn and now has to navigate the world of One Piece as a female version of Marco the Phoenix. Shenanigans ensue as she drags everyone around her into her delusions do to the trauma caused by the loss of her precious games. So what if she gives her so called brothers a few heart attacks when she pretends to be dead until one of them yells, if not a little dramatically, “PHOENIX DOWN” with an accompanying eye roll, before ‘reviving’ along the way. That’s just part of the fun. The poor Whitebeard Pirates are in near constant exasperation with their sister’s sure, but that doesn’t mean they love her any less. Now, if only she could convince Ace that MMOs were a real thing.

Rating: T

Hellion.

That is what the old biddies in her village called her at least. Well, everyone in the village called her that, but they were all pretty much old biddies, so fuck them.

(Well, not really ‘cause that would be gross. Marco shivered at the thought.)

Who knew that trying to engage this dreary town in a riveting game of Splatoon would lead to her immediate and irrefutable exile from the only place she knew in a world she knew was much more vast and dangerous than most people could even comprehend.

She regretted nothing .

Nothing except maybe not being able to beam the mayor in the face with a balloon filled with pink paint and glitter. Marco had been stopped by the villagers before she could chuck that particular balloon, one of the bastard having snuck up behind her and tackling her to the ground before others jumped on her as well in some sort of impromptu dog pile. It had caused the young woman to be the one to get a face full of the mixture instead of her intended target. It had been a bittersweet defeat.

Now, here the pale blonde stood, not even a full day after what the fiasco the villagers irritably had started calling the ‘Day of Reckoning’ under their breaths, loading the little dinghy her parents scrounged up for her. She was so sure that Original Marco had lived a childhood of bloody strife. Her she was though, getting the boot from her home for simply throwing one too many paint balloons.

True, it had technically not been her first offense. Also true, that it hadn’t really been the worst thing she had done either, but for the people of her home island, it had been the last straw. Marco was pretty sure it was just because the sticks they all had shoved up their asses, that they were all just allergic to fun. The kids of the village could at least appreciate her genius, some having even thrown a mini protest over their favorite playmate’s severe and unjust punishment. Well, until they were threatened with dish duty. That had gotten Marco’s followers to disperse rather quickly. The little traitors.

(She carefully did not look into Mom 2.0’s tearful eyes and decidedly ignored the fact that Papa 2.0’s own looked even more droopy than before, like a basset hound whose favorite bone was being taken away. Marco even ignored the small pain in her chest when she thought of leaving them, that she would miss them.)

The farming life hadn’t been for her anyway. Her boobs made her back ache after all and the physical labor of tilling the land just didn’t justify that pain. Honestly, why did nearly all the girls who spent more than five minutes with Luffy have to have huge tits? (And the original Marco had, they had fought a war together. Screw the fact Original Marco had been a male.) Sure, they weren't as large as say Nami or Robin’s, but they were still annoying as fuck.

She was looking for a quest to complete anyway.

Quest objective: find Whitebeard and join his crew.

This quest sucked. It sucked balls. Hard .

She had been randomly sailing around the seas of North Blue for months. Months . And the teenager couldn’t even say it hadn’t truly been random sailing as she was in no way a navigator. She had slapped herself multiple times for not studying maps, but she hadn’t been planning to set out to sea by herself either. Honestly, Marco had thought Whitebeard and his band of jolly sons, more akin to a massive raid party, would be the ones to find her. You know, at home. On the island she had been born on.

Marco once again cursed the mayor and the citizen of Uptightville. She would have preferred they all would have left themselves, like all the potential critter friends she ignored in Animal Crossing , then have had them figure out the best way to get rid of a shitty neighbor was just to exile them from the town. (She briefly found herself lamenting who her virtual town had more than likely gone completely barren by now, before the thought become to unbearable and she had to shake it off. Sort of like the one Taylor Swift song.)

It hadn’t been all bad. If Marco ignored the fact she had almost starved, dehydrated, gotten nearly eaten by various sea monsters, and other things that had caused some minor bodily harm, the young woman could think of a few things to be grateful for. She finally got to update her appearance!

On the first island she had unceremoniously crashed into (Seriously, she didn’t mean to fall asleep! The sailing had been so boring to the point she had started talking to her own reflection on the water’s surface.), she found herself chopping off most her long, blonde hair. She had cropped it into a sort of mohawk, with the sides of her head shaved and a strip of slightly longer locks remaining on top. Of course, she only did this when she was certain Mom 2.0 didn’t have some sort of radar that would let the older woman know what her daughter was doing. Marco liked her limbs where they were and she wouldn’t put it past the lady to somehow find her due to some sort of messed up need for vengeance.

She had also acquired (Maybe, sort of stole) some new clothes. Nothing against what she had been wearing, the overalls were as comfortable as hell, they just weren’t exactly the best clothes to be traveling the wide up sea in. Marco now proudly donned a light blue corset and with blue shorts that rode maybe a little too low. The young woman had decided to forgo shoes, more so because she had been chased from the store before she could grab a pair. And, hey, this outfit was probably even less practicable than overalls, but if she was going to be a pirate, a pirate in the World of One Piece at that, she was going to looks bad fucking ass while doing.  

She was 18 and partly delirious when she found him. Found the man that had been Original Marco’s Oyaji. The man that would be her Oyaji too. Or at least, she hoped he would as she pulled alongside the massive, whale shaped ship. She was a little surprised that the Moby Dick had already been made and set sail, for whatever reason she was sure Edward Newgate would have had another ship, at least up until Gol D. Roger’s execution. She was happy to see it though. The large whale always looked so happy in the series and it looked even more so in person. If a just a tiny weensy bit intimidating. That and it also brought on the age old question of why it was blue? Had the gigantic man never read the novel? Did the novel even exist here? Wait, she had never read the novel, so this was a moot point.

Marco didn’t waste anytime.

“Make me your kid-yoi!” Her load exclamation caught everyone’s attention as they stared down from the large whale shaped boat at her little dinghy. It had certainly caught Captain Whitebeard’s as she could almost feel the older man’s gaze piercing through her. He was younger, his hair not completely white and his mustache just a tad less magnificent. It was like Mario and Dr. Robotnik’s facial hair had a baby. How much time did the man spend styling it?

“Eh? What was that brat? I didn’t hear you.” Edward Newgate was an incredible man, for that the young blonde girl was certain. His voice carried all the way down to her as if the roaring wind and crashing waves against the hulking vessel he rode upon allowed it passage. The captain before her didn’t even have to yell. Marco admitted she may have been a tad jealous at that.

Marco set her shoulders back further standing as straight and tall as she possible could. Her posture was so stiff it was starting to hurt, yet she had to make this man, the one fated to be the strongest on all the seas, this man with such an enormous legacy, take her on. “I said, make me your daughter-yoi!”

“Why should I?”

Okay, now she was sure the older man was messing with her. Still, she responded, “Because you’re like the final boss after a particularly hard dungeon that one has to level grind for like hours to beat-yoi.” At the confused silence that greeted Marco, she decided to take pity on the poor uncultured souls that would never really know the joys and sorrows of dungeon crawling and elaborated. “I think you're badass-yoi.”

Whitebeard threw his head back and laughed.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

The Art of Lying: Chapter One

Story Summary:

I was reborn as a coward and a liar, yet I was alright with that because that is what I had been.

Rating: T

Notes:

Currently unedited. I should probably look into getting a beta reader for all my One Piece stories. Though I have a tendency to disappear sometimes, so that might not be a great idea. XD

                                                                     Chapter One: The Art of Confusion

I died somewhere in my 80’s, not completely remembering who I was.

Not at the time anyway.

I knew I had lived a careful, peaceful life as I wasn’t exactly the bravest soul. That I had been rather reclusive and perhaps more than a bit self-absorbed. That my friends were few and my family, well I was only close to a select number of the otherwise large group of blood relatives. I could even remember some of my hobbies. Mostly being that I was an aficionado of all things animated and collecting figures of my favorite characters.

I knew that I liked to write, though what I had written I wasn’t exactly sure. Yet, I remembered it was more for the thrill and sense of accomplishment that I did so. I think?

What I couldn’t seem to recall were little things at first, such as where I lived or how old I was. Things progressed slowly from there and before I passed on, I had forgotten things such as my favorite food or the name of the beach I used to spend two weeks every summer at with my siblings and parents as a child. Sometimes I found myself not even being able to recollect all what had happened the day before. It was scary.

No, forgetting was more than that. It was petrifying.

So, when I finally let myself drift from this world, surrounded by my remaining family, still able to put names to most of their faces - I was happy.

I was startled from death by the sound of loud wails and hysterical shouting. My ears ached.

The world was around me was blurry, the only thing I could see was twisting, splotchy colors that reminded me of some sort of Jackson Pollock painting. One of the first things I truly managed to comprehend being that I couldn’t breath. My lungs burned, my skin hot with exertion as I struggled to inhale.

The screaming around me only seemed to rise higher with each passing second. I couldn’t understand the panicked words that were reverberating around the room, it was frustrating. They were spoken fast and the language was nothing but gibberish to me.

I could feel my heart beating against my chest ad if it were a xylophone, my vision becoming even worse as I began to hyperventilate.

There was a flaring pain.  

Someone had begun tapping me on the back with enough force that I was sure I would have a lovely, molten bruise later. It hurt, but it did dislodge whatever was blocking my airways, as I sucked in the stale, stagnant air. It smelt disgusting like rusted iron, antiseptic, and rubber mixed together. It reminded me of those joke candles that had popped up awhile ago.

I scrunched my nose in disgust, a tiny cry of displeasure escaping me.

The screams stopped of hysteria ceased almost immediately, replaced by a small sob. It was actually sort of heart-wrenching to hear. There was this sense of relief permeating through the room. It was a strange thing to pick-up on, but it eased my own worries, if only a little.

The giant hands that held me placed me into what I assumed was another person’s arms and the new person cradled me close to their chest. The embrace felt warm, safe even, but I couldn’t help the thought in the back of my mind that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Why was I so small? Better yet how was I even alive when I remembered dying just moments ago? My mind was as foggy as my vision, I couldn’t think straight. My muscles began to lock up as I felt my anxiety skyrocket faster than Superman flying towards danger. It once again became harder to breath, leaving me once again gasping for air.

I didn’t like forgetting and I certainly didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Ear-splitting sobs of a baby echoed around the room suddenly and it certainly wasn’t doing anything to help calm my nerves either, only making everything feel that much worse. It was awful.

It took me several moments that the horrendous wails weren’t just coming from some random babe, but from my own body. I never thought someone in well into their 80’s could make such a racket, but then something hit me over the head like an anvil did to Wile E. Coyote. My body felt small and fragile, not because I was surrounded by giants, but because I was a baby.

I had been reborn.

I started to choke. Rough, wet coughs escaped me, making my throat and chest ache with their force. The sensation could be compared to when you swallowed a half-chewed food product that proceeded to slither down your esophagus the wrong way, except a million times worse. The large, slender arm that was encasing me tensed before relaxing once again beneath me.

A soft humming sounded across through room, cutting through the cries and coughing I was making. My own body began to loosen as the soothing sound washed over me. My breathing slowing down, a sense of calm washing over me. It was peaceful. So very, very peaceful.

I felt my eyelids grow heavy, the excitement and terror from the last few moments finally catching up with me. I struggled to stay awake, desperate to figure out what was going. Why I exactly had I been reincarnated and where? Afraid that if I closed my eyes, I would lose this feeling of serenity.

It wasn’t long before I lost my battle with the Sandman and found myself drifting off into the oblivion of a dreamless sleep.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Brief Thoughts - 18if: Episode One SPOILERS MAY BE AHEAD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Episode One: I went into this knowing nothing about the series and I came out of the first episode still not exactly knowing what it is about. While I can't say I am disappointed, as I hsd no real expectations, I can't say I was impressed either. The style felt kind of strange to me, though I think, in the end, it will just take some getting used to. The actual feel of the show (camera angels and whatnot) reminded me a lot of the Satoshi Kon movie Paprika (though this show is not as good going by 1st episode only.) and to a smaller, near miniscule amount Flip Flappers. A lot of movement and what the fu** did I just see?' going on. As for the actual story,Spoiler Alert! Click to show or hideI am going to guess MC is a being similar to Lily. This hypothesis has no real basis other then after it being stated you die in real life after dying and the dream world, he seems to live, but also because of where MC wakes up. We get a look outside the window in his room and see a whole bunch of gears, which is kinda trippy and leads me to believe he lives in a separate 'dream pocket' of sorts rather than in reality itself. Also, as for the professor, it is never really said or not that after dying in dream, you can't be revived in dreams. It is possible once he left through the blue door his subconscious/dreamself just vanished because his body was no longer living. It is also possible MC or Lily have the power to completely revive those who have 'died' unconsciously or not. It is also possible the professor isn't even a real person, though this seems less likely given his knowledge of both Lily and the dreamscape. As for Lily, I can see her being a potential villain. She outright tepls MC to kill the Thunder Witch (I believe she called herself) after it was said dying in dreams would kill the person in real life too. (A fact that is still a potential lie from what we have seen the episode.) MC instead decides to talk her down (The small line he said about never telling her to ger naked had me laughing a little.), yet I have the feeling if he runs into another witch he may actually kill them in order to escape and we will see if it really negatively effects the victim of the 'Alice Syndrome.' Anyway, all that is just pure speculation on my part. As far as my actual interest in this series. Well, I adore Paprika and, as I mentioned, this episode reminded me a little of that, so I am going to give it at least 3 episodes before deciding if I should drop it or not. The main reasons, at this point, are the art style and if it just remains simply wacky with little substance.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Brief Thoughts - Tsurezure Children: Episode One

SPOILERS MAY BE AHEAD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

I am not entirely sure how a feel about this episode. I can say, however, that I am glad it is a short because I don't think a full length episode would be able to keep my attention. There were some cute, funny moments, mainly between smoking girl and class president, but nothing I would really rave about either. I guess the best way to describe the first episode for me is: cute, yet forgettable. The animation was good though, so that was a definite plus. The design also made me think of Penguindrum. Anyway, despite my uncertainty with this I will probably end up watching the whole series anyway simply because the episodes are short.

I'm also guessing not all the romances are going to work out, though I could be reading to much into the preview. It looks like star girl isn't going to remember her two love pining for her senpai by next episode. Poor guy.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Hubris - Fanfic Idea

Title: Hubris

Alternate Title: War Drums

 Fandom: Naruto & Greek Mythology Crossover

 Pairing(s): Gen.

 Summary: This wasn’t Mount Olympus. This wasn’t home.

 Idea/Notes:

 Ares, Greek god of war, had a violent temper and lust for destruction. The other gods seemed to accept that or for the most part overlook it - that is until Ares takes it one step too far. As punishment the king of gods, his father Zeus, sends his wayward son to another world to live life out as a mortal. The lord of the skies hoped that it would teach Ares some humility, mainly not to do anything against his father’s will, but he really should have double checked the dimension before poofing the volatile god there.

 Essentially, Ares is reborn in the Narutoverse to live life out as a human mortal. His only options are to reform his ways by the time his new life expires or be chained down in the depths of Tartarus for eternity. However, trying to change one’s nature isn’t easy and his blood burns for war. The worst part was that he has been reborn into some peace loving village. The best part, they trained people to be killing machines under the guised notion of ‘protection.’

 Ares only sees one true path before him: become a shinobi and start the most glorious, bloody war any world has ever seen.

  Snippet:

 Ares was born with an unending thirst for blood.

 Being a progeny of Zeus and Hera had made him a god, one of the twelve that sat upon the thrones of Mount Olympus. And, when you are a god, there isn’t much you fear. Nothing except perhaps another god or one such as Hercules.

 So, in hindsight Ares really should have saw this coming.

[mythologygirlfanfic]

Born a Monster - Plot Bunny

Title: Born a Monster

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Pairing(s): Percy/Annabeth, Nico/Will, pretty much just canon pairings with slim chance of Tyson/OC, but probably not as OC will most likely be a cyclops and daughter of Poseidon. Also possible One-sided Luke/OC in which Luke strings OC along for his own gain and OC falls for it hook, line, and sinker.

Idea/Notes:

Almera wasn’t the nicest person when she was alive, heck she was kind of a bitch, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that when she was reborn, she was reincarnated as a monster.

Yes, another reincarnation story! I really should probably start writing something different, but these are super appealing to me right now for whatever reason. (I am also super excited for the summer 2017 series that are going to be beginning soon centering around rebirth.) Anyway, this takes place in the Percy Jackson fandom, where a girl who used to be on track to becoming a top model and was treated like a princess (and sure as hell acted like one. An especially non-benevolent one.) is reborn as, what most would consider, a hideous monster.

At first, she is horrified by her looks and her purpose in life, which seems to just be maiming or killing demigods, but after awhile she comes to a epiphany. She is still a princess and she’ll be damned if she remains to be treated like some sort of penniless pauper. With her conceit and misplaced self-righteousness to guide her, the OC, Almera, stumbles her way through a world of Myth and Magic.

That is until she comes across her half-brother Perseus ‘Percy’ Jackson, a good-looking jock type with not only incredible hair, but immense power. Almera becomes hellbent on getting rid of him as he represents not only everything she wishes she had, but everything she had lost. Luke finds her and offers her a deal she just can’t seem to refuse. Join him and together they will make sure Percy Jackson falls.

Yeah, so it will be an antagonist!OC story, with a small chance of her having a turnaround at some point. I see Almera remaining more of an anti-hero though, if she ever leaves complete villain status.

On a side note, at this moment I have only seen both of the movies and read two of the books, so it may be awhile before this even has a chance of being written.

Snippet:

Being a princess wasn’t easy, but Almera had a tendency to make it look that way and with style to boot. So, she wasn’t surprised when a mere plebeian, brimming with jealousy and inferiority tried to stab her through the gut.

What did surprise her, was that the bitch succeeded not only in driving the knife through her like melted butter, but the wench killed her too. Still, Almera supposed, it was better than being left with a ghastly scar, especially when she was now faced with the possibility of being reincarnated. There was, after all, only one way for her to go in her next life and that was up. She’d be more than just a big time model, she’d be an actual princess - that is what she had been promised.

It was a win, win.