#bountiful bells legacy

[bugsims]

meet lolly bells, gen four heir

[ackerfics]

my love is mine all mine ch 1 | toji fushiguro x female reader

part one of to the girls who are failed by the narrative series.

series summary:

'the glorified womb', 'the heir bearer', 'the blessed flower of the jujutsu society' — they are just some of the titles given to the women of your mother's clan, and all of them eventually fell to you, the prodigal firstborn who has the misfortune of birthing someone who will be stronger than their predecessors. with the fate of someone's clan on your shoulders, there are only a handful of things told to you while growing up; be as demure as you can be, never open your mouth and squash your thoughts, sit with a posture befitting that of a lady wearing an invisible yet heavy diadem. but the one that rings the most goes like this: your only purpose in this world is to be a silent wife to a man who will give you the opportunity to carry the next generation of powerful sorcerers. you remember all of these as you walk toward zen'in ogi in your uchikake, the constricting material around your waist akin to the gripping hold of your cursed technique.

and in fate's funny little ways of fabricating legacies and stories, you forget them when you are spirited away by the man who always welcomes the coming of the seasons with you without fail.

chapter title: their redness talks to my wounds

warnings: objectifying women, misogynistic beliefs, pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth, death, sexual assault/r*pe (but not to reader)

Each time a girl is born in your mother’s clan, a festival is held — flower lanterns drifting in the inky sky, bells ringing each passing second, and rhythms of geta filling in between the beats of the taiko. It is believed that your mother’s family was kissed by the deity of fortitude and fertility; very much like how the Mother and Father of the Shinto gods created the islands of Japan and brought forth a new wave of deities, the womb of the Hanamo clan will bring an heir to a dying clan. When the inheritance of The Glorified Womb is successful, all of the clans gather to get a glimpse of the future Lady of their estates and bid on who would welcome her to their gates. The festival is both a moment of celebration and sending off.

It’s the start of a new era and it is all ignited by the birth of a little girl whose body is blessed by a flutter of Izanami’s forefinger. 

You were told that your festival was the grandest of all the events thrown by your family. No one anticipated the weight carried by your first cry. You weren’t there to witness it but the maids who brush your hair constantly tell you that when you announced yourself to the world like the coveted little Lady that you are, all of the flowers coloured the grounds of the estate with the reverse cursed technique innate in your mother’s bloodline and the utilisation from your father’s. They said that it was the moment the entire Jujutsu world stood still, holding their breath; offers were made, compromises were presented on the table, bounties continued piling on your little fragile head — and you weren’t even a day old. You were the product of a fruitful union between the Hanamo and Joushou clans, they said, a little doll to flaunt and to cradle until a worthy man comes to take you away as his young bride.

You don’t understand it until you accidentally nick yourself while marvelling at the beauty of the blossoms in the gardens of the main family’s house.

The blooming red on the tip of your finger fascinates you, the drops nourishing the soil underneath the carnations intermingling with the short redbud trees. Pain doesn’t even come to you as you tilt your head to follow the trickle of blood on your forefinger, the lines on your palm seeping with the most perfect shade of red you’ve ever seen. The flowers speak to you with the more time you spend letting your blood escape through your skin. You can hear them more — all asking the same set of questions that you pay no heed to. Are you alright, young Lady of the House of Purity? Do you need us to carry you in our petals? Does it hurt you? Who dares soil the most-yearned young Lady? They deserve to shrivel. You don’t notice the foliage of the shrubs going past their trimmed appearance to engulf the bundle of roses right in front of you, threatening to swallow the poor plant whole for hurting you. You’re about to place your bleeding finger in your mouth, curious about the taste of it, when the maids shriek behind you.

“Ojou-sama!”

Your hair follows the movement of your head as you turn around to meet their frantic mannerisms. “Hmm?”

“Oh, my Lord!” One of them swoops down to where you are, unravelling a ribbon from her yukata to wrap around your wound. She then scoops you from the ground, her hand holding the back of your head as gently as possible. “What are we going to tell Yoshiki-sama?”

You place your head on the maid’s shoulder, your eyes catching the retreating shrubbery trying to touch you with their fingers. Slowly, you lift your head to get a good look at them, opting to just wave your small, pudgy hands at the leaves and the twigs and the bark. Curious; they almost waved back. But you discern that it is a product of the gentle breeze entering the large gardens. After all, plants do not talk, at least not in the storybooks the caretakers and maids act out for you. The women around you keep on talking as if you aren’t there nestled in between them.

“Is it bad of me to think otherwise?”

“Mari, his daughter is injured!”

“But he will punish us if he finds out!”

The maid carrying you tightens her hold around you. “Even if the heavens ring malice over us peasants, I would gladly inform the head of this house of anything regarding his prized kin. Mari, I thought you were better than that. We are hired to protect Ojou-sama with every inch of our being.”

A hitched breath comes from the other maid. “Don’t you dare drop my name when you speak of this to Yoshiki-sama!”

“If he brings up the subject of the witnesses, I would speak with utmost honesty.”

The maid whisks you away. It is only when she passes by Mari-san that you take a good look at the troubled countenance wrapping around the worried maid. You don’t know the hierarchy around the household but you definitely know your father is the highest-ranking person here, judging from how people speak of him. You surmise that the maid holding you as if you’re the most fragile thing on the planet is higher in rank than Mari-san and that probably makes her sad just like now. Intending to make her smile a little bit, you raise your hand over the maid’s shoulder to wave at Mari-san, your smile beaming and crinkling the corners of your eyes. The lower maid notices it and her entire demeanour shifts into that of a person endeared. She feels better and you also feel better now.

“Ojou-sama, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“What about Papa? Aren’t we supposed to go to him?”

The maid stiffens. “Right after we clean the wound and put some cute bandages on it, Ojou-sama.”

“Can I pick the pattern?”

The woman chuckles under her breath. “Of course; as long as it is in the box Ritsuko bought the other day.”

Ritsuko must be one of the maids as well. You think long and hard about the design you want, the image of cute cartoon characters filling your mind. With a little pout, you suggest, “I want Sanrio.”

“Let’s see if there’s any of the Sanrio characters in the bandages, then, Ojou-sama. Just a little more and—Mutsuki-sama!”

“I’ll take it from here, Aida-chan.”

The most beautiful woman who puts the flowers to shame — your mother. She was once the most desired bride, even threatening to break the close relationship of the oldest sons of the current head of the Zen’in family in hopes of finally giving birth to the sorcerer who will possess the Ten Shadows Technique they are praised for. Because of your father, the current head of the clan bearing a reverse cursed technique so notorious, that civil war was prevented and the Zen’in married other women from lower clans as a way to swallow their shame. All the funnier it was to the adults having meetings in your house when after marrying their chosen brides, the Zen’in sons weren’t blessed by Lady Luck — the eldest son’s children were never that exemplary (one didn’t inherit the Ten Shadows Technique and the other was an anomaly to your society) and the younger one’s wife experienced miscarriage and false positives.

Judging from the stories you’ve heard of that Zen’in dispute so many years ago, you understand with your little brain that your mother embodies the word pretty through and through — pretty enough to bewitch the young head of the Gojo clan, who is roughly around the same age as her. In the end, it was your father she chose and they were married as soon as she reached the age of eighteen. You graced their life four years after their marriage and she told you in hushed whispers behind a thin shoji that they prayed for your creation — that you are loved way before conception because there was not a night that she didn’t wish to the stars for your existence.

Your mother stands in the middle of the hallway, her maids lowering their heads behind her. The kimono wrapping her figure is anything but simple, one of the many gifts showered to her by your father. Her hair is cascading down her back and her smile is demure yet exuding with so much warmth that it compels you to reach out for her. Her glittering eyes shine ever more at your silent plea to be transferred into her arms.

“Oh, come here, my little petal,” she murmurs while taking you from the maid and in her frail arms. She huffs at the unexpected weight. “Aren’t you getting bigger?” Her voice is soft, almost like she is talking to an easily frightened kitten, even leaning forward to lightly brush the tip of her nose to yours. You giggle at the ticklish sensation and your mother hums a little amused laugh.

You place both of your hands on her cheeks. “Hello, Mama.”

“Hello, little petal.” Her gaze drifts down to the hastily wrapped ribbon around your finger, the red is still vibrant against the muted colours of the material. “Did you hurt yourself while playing in the garden?” Mother tuts under her breath. “We can’t have that now, can we?” The crinkles around her eyes harden into that expected of a Mistress of the house and all the maids present straighten their postures, all the while facing the ground. When the younger women keep their silence, Mother returns to gazing at you with that lovely look she usually has while trailing her eyes over your features. “I suppose it’s expected of children to have a little scratch here and there while enjoying life. After all, my little petal gets her love for nature from me. Isn’t that right, my darling?”

“The flowers talked to me in the garden, Mama.”

“Did they?” Mother glances at the maids before walking toward her room. “What did they say?”

You place a hand on your chin, tucking your head in the crook of her neck. “They were whispering about many things.” You gasp in realisation. “I think they found a little bunny!”

She adjusts you in her hold, her breaths deepening the more she carries you. “We’ll ask someone to fetch that rabbit for you.”

“Will Papa say yes?”

Mother pauses for a moment. The words coming from her throat are carefully crafted to never dim that enthusiastic gleam present in your irises. “Your father is weak when it comes to you; I’m sure he’s going to grant your wish no matter how bizarre it is. A bunny doesn’t even create a dent on anything he holds.”

“I’ll call it Melody.”

“Why the name, little petal?”

“Because it’s the only bunny in Sanrio.”

You watch the long corridors depict the opulence of the gardens of your father’s estate, all of the flowers arranged in a way that is akin to the traditional art of ikebana, making the lifeless plot of land alive. The previous head of the Joushou family decided that for their heir to win the heart of the flower of the Jujutsu society, they have to plant different species of flowering plants to the bland greenery they have in their backyard. It most certainly impressed the standing head of the Hanamo clan, who agreed to give their prized daughter to the man who would least harm her. Now, the garden is a testament to the love sprouting between your mother and father and many maids and butlers say that it is still revered by those who have heard it, all wishing for a love like that to save them from the fate given to them by the higher-ups.

A little honey bee drapes itself on one of the flowers, its wings fluttering rapidly against the purple petals. The flower sneezes though it doesn’t agitate the bee buzzing to get a taste of its nectar. You giggle at the incessant complaints brought by the flower, only to be met by the satisfied buzz of the bee.

“Look, Mama, the flower is talking so fast!” You point at the still-rambling flower, Mother following your finger with her hooded eyes. 

“It’s reassuring to know that I’m not the only one to hear them now.”

You lean back from Mother’s shoulder, her hand immediately flat on your back to prevent you from toppling. “Careful,” she mutters under her breath. The crease on her eyebrows vanishes at the sound of your twinkling laughter.

“Sorry, Mama!”

Mother shakes her head. “It’s alright, petal.”

“Mama says she can hear the flowers, too!”

She sighs at your manner of speaking. “You said you can hear flowers, too,” she corrects without looking down at you, the door of her room right at her reach. “You can easily replace the nouns with pronouns, little petal. It’s not appealing to the ears once you get older. Best to remember to stop referring to yourself from a third point of view as well. It is unbecoming of a little lady of this house to have such impaired speech.” Mother hears nothing from you, so she takes a little peek at you before letting out a huff at the deflated posture you carry. “Your father won’t like it, petal.” She heaves another sigh. “And yes, I can hear the flowers because of our family’s cursed technique.”

“What’s a cursed technique, Mama?”

Once you enter Mother’s room, she pads on the tatami and gracefully lowers herself on one of the zaisu with you on her lap. You don’t see any first-aid kits anywhere that can help her clean and dress your small wound. Instead, Mother unravels the ribbon around your finger and holds it up for her to see. The blood has dried now, the wound stark on your skin. You never realised that the nick made by the roses’ thorns travelled from the tip of your appendage down to the line bordering your first knuckle. Mother remains quiet as she rubs the tip of her own finger over your own, making you flinch at the sting. She glances at the harsh movement of your little body and tuts, the sound echoing through the walls of her minimalistically decorated room. With the tenderness only a mother can have, she keeps on brushing her finger against your open skin, her breathing becoming laboured with each passing second.

The feeling that washes over you is ticklish in every sense. Something is coming from Mother’s touch that has you looking over at your joined hands. There is a pulsating glow emanating from between you two — blinding and warm. It travels from her fingertips to your wound, stitching it together like how she sews the tapestries displayed on some walls of the estate. The pain you felt earlier can be a figment of your imagination because when Mother wipes your finger with a clean napkin on the low table in front of you, the magic she did erases any sign of your injury. And right when she finishes doing her magic, the flowers in the ikebana around her room continue flourishing until more than one blossom can be seen. It’s only then that you realise they are singing in a chorus so heavenly that you have no problems hearing them all at once.

With a rugged pattern of breathing, Mother answers your hanging question, “That … can be classified as a cursed technique.”

You lift your hand to your eyes, blinking every so often and examining it for any scar. “Whoa,” you breathe. “That’s so cool!”

“That,” she catches her breathing, “is the reason why you should never be hurt.” She cups your face with her palm, cradling it like the world that you are. “Our very existence, our cursed technique, the way we were born, is proof of how special we are. They are the reason why your father is quite protective of you. Believe me when I say that you lit up the entire compound when I gave birth to you. In this generation, you are considered to be the most valuable possession of the Jujutsu society. There may come a time when a strong sorcerer will be born, but for now, the world will fall to its knees at the sound of your name. Because you have my blood in you and you know what they say about my family?” You sheepishly shake your head and she takes that as a sign to continue, with a knowing smile on her glossed lips, “Men would go to war just to have us. The near downfall of the Zen’in and Gojo clans hundreds of years ago says it all.”

“I don’t want that,” you murmur, now forlorn at the possibility of wreaking havoc in your world.

“It is the way of the world for us, petal,” Mother says, like an afterthought she always kept ever since.

“I want to watch Sanrio all day and look at the flowers and play,” you pout.

“That doesn’t exactly work for us in the future.”

“Then maybe I should run away!”

Now, both of Mother’s hands trap your head in place. Your eyes take her in — the franticness coating her features, the disbelief in the form of the sneer on her lips, and the underlying glint underneath her pupils. Your little heart starts pounding in your chest. Did you do something wrong to elicit such a reaction from her? Your mouth is about to form an apology when she cuts off your train of thought, “Never think of that again. You are the current flower of the Jujutsu society; running away is something that will have you executed. Do you understand me?” You nod, only jumping when that response rings unsatisfactory to Mother. She grits out your name before repeating, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mother,” comes your quiet response.

“Now, that’s a good girl,” her words are soft but they carry a weight enough to wilt the smallest of buds. “If you run away, you might as well be a dead woman crawling.”

You’ve always wanted a younger sibling.

You don’t particularly long for a brother to dote on or a sister to frolic in the garden with, all you want is someone to share this loneliness wrapping around every room you venture into. And you have reached an age where you wish you had someone to play with, being eight and now more aware that the attention people give you is devoid of genuine emotion. Father is busy with whatever adult thing he occupies himself with (as usual) and Mother has started becoming ill, staying in her room more than going out to get a dose of fresh air. You’re left in the company of maids, butlers, butterflies, and flowers. With so many festivals that have been postponed, you have lost hope that you will get that adorable little sibling in your dreams — until the spring of 1988 when news spread that Mother is with child and you will finally have the younger sibling she wishes for.

“Congratulations, Lady Joushou,” a passing visitor jovially cheers, their smile reaching the heavens as if it’s their wife who is pregnant with the next heir of the clan. “I hope it’s a boy!”

“Oh, imagine the joy Yoshiki would feel if a boy comes out,” an elderly lady from the branch family gushes with her mouth carefully covered by the sleeves of her kimono.

Mother simply passes them a smile, one that can’t be hidden by the products on her face. Her hand is carefully perched on her protruding belly, just two months away from giving birth.

Father decided that the announcement of the possible heir of the Joushou clan should come at a later date, with the news making an impact on the higher-ups and would eventually give the clan an edge compared to the others. Especially now that the Zen’in clan has failed to produce another child from the oldest couple of the current head, their last child still an odd specimen but a survivor of a room full of cursed spirits. Father said that wasn’t enough for them to be boastful about their prowess, you remember (he adds something along the lines of the entire Jujutsu world would bow before the boy who will carry his Nullification). But you never cared about clan politics or who has the more exceptional children, you just want your baby sister to be out into the world. You want to show her the storybook you created for her eyes and ears only, a story of a little princess in the flowers.

“You should eat more seaweed, dear,” another old lady pads over to suggest. “It would help with milk production if you plan on breastfeeding the future heir.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, Lady Joushou is going to breastfeed the future heir. Breastfeeding is vital for the relationship of the mother and the child after all.” One of the official elders of the clan swatted the lady from the branch family before taking the rein on the conversation, her smile making her eyes crease into lines. “Try some cucumber juice as well! It worked when I was carrying my last child. Your skin will glow when you drink it, too.”

“Dear, now that I see it,” the old lady from the branch family starts while placing her hand on her cheek. “You have been glowing lately.”

“That is wonderful news!”

Mother chuckles ever so slightly. “Why?”

“It confirms that you’re carrying a boy!”

“A boy?” Something lights up Mother’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

The elder of the clan hums, “When a woman looks decayed, it means that they’re pregnant with a girl because all of the mother’s beauty is being sucked by the baby. If the opposite happens like the mother getting prettier by the day, the baby is a boy because beauty is not something he needs.”

Mother blinks out of her stupor. “That’s … informative, Shizuka-sama.”

“But I remember that everyone thought he was carrying a boy when the little flower was born. You had the most noticeable case of pregnancy glow with her that we thought we finally had our heir. Turns out it’s even better — a little lady to carry on the mantle of being the glorified womb—!”

“Enjoying yourself listening to the elders, little petal?” Father’s voice makes you jump from the shoji. You look behind your shoulder to see him standing with his back straight, his long hair that was tied in a low ponytail hanging over his shoulder, and his smile gentle yet firm. Father is a man who commands attention wherever he's placed. You don’t see him without his usual stoicism. Even when he smiles, you feel as if he’s never within your reach. Father was once Papa and when Papa decided it was better for him to long for a child he could pass his technique to, he became Father. When you keep staring at him, Father lightly laughs, something that sounds more like a scoff than anything. “Come here, petal,” he softly says, letting his hands be free from the confines of his kimono to gesture you into his arms. He carries you once you reach him, releasing a playful huff, “You’ve gotten big, huh?” He noses your hair before opening the shoji.”

“Oh, Lord Yoshiki!”

“Did you have a good meeting, Lord Yoshiki?”

“You must be pleased to hear about the possible gender of your child!”

“Finally an heir to celebrate!

“We’ll definitely fix a festival that’s more extravagant than the Hanamo’s—!”

“Ladies,” Father cuts through, his smile glacial enough to make the elderly women freeze. “Can I have some time with my wife? Our precious daughter is asking for her mother and I can’t have our little petal deprive her of it simply because we have a party outside.”

The one from the branch family bows her head in front of the head of the clan. “Oh, right away, Yoshiki-sama! We deeply apologise for taking most of your wife’s time.”

You don’t fail to notice the look of disdain she gives your direction.

“Nonsense,” the higher in position among the ladies tuts.

“Shizuka,” comes from the weak admonition of the lesser lady.

“The girl has her maids, am I right?” The words are like poison on her tongue and her eyes are daggers that pierce through your little bubble. Ever since they didn’t get the heir they wanted the first time around, they find you lowly just like Mother. At the tender age of eight, you already grasp the reason why some of Father’s family look at you in a way that someone looks at an uncoordinated ikebana — with disappointment. Coming from a clan that’s purely known for their blessed wombs, it is easy for the other clans to assume that is all that the Hanamo clan is worth — bearing children with otherworldly looks that can make the entire world weak. The woman continues throwing her daggers, “The child your wife is carrying has more priority than the one you have now. This unborn child may be the next one to inherit our technique—”

“I appreciate the concern,” Father says without saying the name of the elder woman. “But I would like to dismiss you now.”

“Well, I—”

“You have said enough.”

The woman squawks like a chicken and you giggle at the sound. She meets your laughing form and the glare on her face can curdle milk. Your laughter ceases but Father places a hand on the back of your head as if to shield you from her. She chooses to save her life by tidying up her kimono and exiting the room, the other ladies following her like ducklings. Once the room encloses only you three, Father walks to where Mother is and sits at the end of the chaise lounge she is reclined on.

“How is the boy?”

Mother lets out a little laugh. “Not you, too.”

“Is there a problem?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

Father hums, the conversation ending there.

You look at them like a tennis match.

Once upon a time, you longed for a younger sibling, not caring about the sex of the baby. Now, with the weight of the elder’s eyes on your useless form, you start to think that you don’t want a little brother, one that can be a godling among mortals. You want someone to play with and at the same time protect from the harsh realities of the elders — not someone who will take everything from you. It may sound selfish when you let it sink into your brain. You resort to twiddling with your fingers the more silence seeps through the cracks of the room. 

“I don’t want a brother,” your little mouth runs faster than your head. You pout as you fiddle with the material of your expensive kimono, embroidered with the different flowers that stand for your late grandmothers and aunts who married into other clans just like Mother. You don’t know what they mean but you figure that since they look pretty to be placed in a ceremonial robe, they might stand for something beautiful as well. While following the outlines of a chrysanthemum with your finger, you continue, “Brothers are going to be mean even if they’re little. I’ve seen my cousins and they’re rowdy — I don’t want my kimono to be dirty. Once, they threatened to push me off the bridge of our garden.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Father replies, adjusting you on his lap until he can face you while looking down. It’s genuine — the smile on his face; only reserved for his close family members, most especially you. He caresses the fluff that is making your cheek protrude with his thumb, his gaze seeing something that only he can envision. You may be imagining it but Father pulls you closer to his chest. He says nothing for a moment, instead leaning down to press a soft kiss on your hair inhaling that flowery scent your cursed energy pulsates with. “You will have a younger brother, petal. But fret not, your brother won’t be like your cousins because he has us. He will grow up to be sensible and kind and strong. He will carry on our name with him and you will be there as his guide.”

You tilt your head at him. “Won’t the elders do that instead?”

Father chuckles, his eyes fond as he keeps on rubbing circles on the apples of your cheeks. “I know he’d rather have you than those old people. The bond of siblings is something akin to an unsaid binding vow yet there are no conditions to be met because you are connected.”

You turn to Mother and all she does is smile. Looking down on Father’s rather plain kimono, you think it through.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, petal,” she tells you. “I, myself, have a brother and it’s not the end of the world. Every worry you have will vanish when he’s here with us.”

Your tentativeness comes in the form of reaching for Mother’s belly, curious to feel your potential younger brother. It’s almost like beckoning the bunny in the gardens to your hands four years ago; fur as white as snow and eyes as red as the red spider lilies decorating the inner corners of the foliage and shrubs (bad luck, the gardeners say). Confidence pools in your tiny hands upon finally touching the rough texture of Mother’s kimono under your skin because this time, you know that your younger brother would outlive any of you, unlike the bunny four years ago — the red of its eyes matching the blood pooling from its white coat, maggots squirming from its insides and onto the grass. The bunny died but your brother will live.

At least that’s what you constantly tell yourself when the entire estate is ablaze with the news that the baby boy Mother has been praised for for carrying, comes out pale blue as a stalk of delphiniums.

When your little brother never reached a full day of life and was placed with the ancestors the day after his birth, everything died in the Joushou compound. There is a lingering scent of rotting flowers in the breeze, encompassing the entire protective circle wrapping around the compound’s protective barrier. Mother won’t stop crying during the kokubetsushiki (where everyone says their farewells); not even your comforting tugs on her black kimono can quell the distraught her entire body racks with. Father looks forward as the son he prayed to the gods for will be burned — so tiny and so unfair, an image of a perfect clan head. You see the other clans wearing black like your family does but they don’t cry like Mother does nor grumble in disappointment like the elders do. You look over your shoulder at the clan with sharp eyes and you feel the flowers beside them squirm at their malintent, except for one. It’s a boy already staring at you, the deep green in his eyes reminds you of early spring when the greenery is at its most beautiful. The scar on the side of his lips is stark against his skin, so twisted that even without a smile on his face, it is prominent. He keeps on staring at you with so many emotions that you can hardly pick them out until your name is called.

“Yes, Father?” You look up at him.

Without returning your gaze, he says, “Let’s go.” You follow him through the door but Mother doesn’t. “Wife,” he announces, causing Mother to flinch.

“I-I’m going to say g-goodbye to hi—”

“Come.”

Her breathing hitches, having no choice but to always be obedient in front of so many prying eyes. “O-Of course, husband.”

The world carries on but Mother has never come out of her room ever since.

Nobody has ever entered it except Father, stoic but tumultuous, and the screams that follow are enough to give you nightmares at night — bone-chilling and grating.

“What were those screams, Aida-nee-san? It sounds like Mama is in pain.”

The maid finches at your question one morning while rubbing your skin with a soft sponge.

“For there to be blessings, one must suffer first, Ojou-sama — they were just making your baby brother. Your mother will be praised if the union becomes fruitful once again.”

You wish you never wanted a baby sibling at all.

You are nine when you are introduced to members of Mother’s family.

Your uncle, Hanamo Hatsugu, stares at you from across the table with eyes glistening with expectation. The table is painted with a variety of sweets from all parts of Kyoto, some intricate with their decorations (candied sugar moulded into swans on top of whipped cream) while others are the simple desserts that you see in catalogues (nothing but fruits as their jewellery, though also glistening with melted sugar). You have never owned a sweet tooth in your life, courtesy of the maids who think of your health, constructing nutrition charts for each day of the week, something that has to do with preparation. You think through all the possible things you can say to your uncle and all of them lead to him dejected or angry for your lack of enthusiasm at the spread he prepared. The most you can do is sit straight and let nature do its singing outside the window. Hopefully, it will drown out the silence you’re causing. 

“So,” your uncle drawls out like a child, his eyes never dimming — they’re the same as Mother’s, which means they’re the same as yours, too. “Do you want the panna cotta? The roasted strawberry crumble? Ooh, ooh, the black forest cake from this cafe is absolutely divine, one bite and you will see heaven, I would say!” At your wide-eyed reaction to the chocolate-coated frosting on the cake, he pauses with a smile before brandishing a saucer of a smooth cake topped with berries. “How about some angel food cake? No one can resist a slice of good angel food cake!” You make no move and you think he finally reaches his final straw because he leans back and groans in frustration. “Come on, sprout, you have to eat something! It’s been hours since you’ve been here.”

Oh, so, that’s what it is. You look down at the desserts he arranged on the table (at least from what he boasts about earlier, saying that it’s something he comes up with like flower arrangement). There’s nothing displayed here that’s not overly coated with sugar or drizzled with too much syrup. You might as well accept your fate.

You pick the dessert that you assume to be the least sweet of everything here — a dark chocolate glazed doughnut with dried blackberries on top. The eyes drilling on your forehead can be quite imposing but you take a bit of the confection nonetheless. You carefully chew on the bittersweet piece of candy, letting it melt on your tongue until you get a taste of it combined with the blackberries. You can’t even deny that they complement each other.

“Huh,” comes from your uncle.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You can look like a kid your age,” Uncle Hatsugu muses with his chin supported by his hand, “I’m glad.”

You don’t understand, tilting your head to the right.

“Now that’s downright adorable,” he points at your scrunched-up nose, furrowed eyebrows, and jutted lip. “I understand why some of our relatives spread the word that your father can never refuse you anything. You are like a tiny mouse.” He reaches out over the table and the display of desserts to pinch your cheek but you evade the possible harmful gesture. “And a flighty one at that. You know, that’s useful when harnessing our cursed technique. Do you know a thing or two about it?” While he speaks, he waves at one of the maids stationed at the shoji of the room before signing something that awfully looks like a drink.

With your mouth nibbling on the doughnut, you nod in response. At the sight of you still eating the dessert, Uncle Hatsugu brightens like a child witnessing their first rain of fractals on a chilly, grey day. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

At that, you knit your eyebrows even more.

“Hah, you’re so much like Onee-chan when we were young.”

You gulp down what you’ve been chewing. “Mama?”

He grins when he finally makes you speak. “Yeah, Onee-chan is a curious individual. I never quite grasped what she is like but,” he emphasised the word, “she is the most adept at utilising the healing potential of our cursed technique — actually every woman who earned the title of Heir Maker has the ability to do that. You may be too young to be told this but I guess it’s better than later.” The mirthful air surrounding Uncle Hatsugu disappears and what is left are heavy lines making up his sharp face. “You and all the women before you are considered to be anomalies in the Jujutsu system made by the old gaggle of men who call themselves the higher-ups and because of that, you are unofficially given the title of Special Grades.”

“Special?”

“Yes, little sprout is special,” he forces himself to smile. “And it is because of our family.”

“What do you mean, Uncle?”

“Have you ever felt like the plants around you talk or relay their thoughts?” You nod and he puffs his chest in satisfaction. “Perfect, then, that means you inherited it. Our cursed technique lies in continuously seeing the world in a positive light, which means you will always have the opposite of cursed energy.” He flicks his hand to let blue flames cover his entire appendage, right to his elbows. You gasp at the hostility coming from Uncle but he only laughs at that and erases any sign of the flame from sight. “That is regular cursed energy. This, however,” this time, he cups both of his hands in front of him, putting more concentration than before, and instead of the blue flames from earlier, his hands carry white flames edged with green, “is the pinnacle of our cursed technique — the reverse of cursed energy.”

“Woah,” you gape, forgetting the doughnut in your hand and leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the white flames that only seem to grow brighter the more Uncle looks at you with fondness.

“Yeah, remarkable, isn’t it?”

You can’t help but nod in awe. “Mama healed me with it once when I got myself hurt from the gardens.”

“I heard from our elders that Onee-chan possesses the highest output of our cursed technique in centuries but she can only heal instead of attack,” Uncle Hatsugu ruefully smiles. “Too bad she is pushed to marry first before pursuing a career of fighting and protecting. But now,” his eyes that he shares with Mother gleam and you swear you see flowers bloom in his irises, “this is my chance to teach you how to use our cursed technique — Floral Anima.”

Only the men in the Joushou clan have the right to be sorcerers, that is if they successfully inherit the Nullification. As of now, you recall that there’s not a single woman sorcerer in your family. Being a sorcerer—no, wielding a cursed technique at most—is a figment of one’s dreams. 

“But there are no girls in my family who can do cursed techniques,” you supply with your eyes on the crumbs on your saucer. 

“The Joushou clan is not the only family you have, sprout.”

You peer at him through your unbound hair, trepidation still lingering in your limbs. You can’t even begin to think how Father would react to you dabbling in something only men can do. But then again, Mother has a cursed technique, some of the Hanamo women have cursed techniques, Hell, even the kinder old ladies you passed by earlier in the extensive gardens have cursed techniques (they made some of the flowers extra flourishing as a welcome to the Hanamo compound). All your life, you never wanted anything. Maybe this can be it — the one thing that will carve out who you are. Learning a cursed technique will give you the identity that has long since been stripped from you. The Joushou clan is not the only family that you bear the blood of. You’re a Hanamo as well — the known shepherds of the forests and blossoms of Japan.

With a deep breath, you lift your head and say, “What do I have to do?”

Uncle Hatsugu has that blinding smile again. You can smell the amalgam of floral scents in the air wafting from outside the engawa. “Come here!” He pats on the zabuton beside him.

You stand up and plop yourself next to him, making your hair bounce before framing your face. You look up at Uncle Hatsugu, who sits carefully to face you.

“Now, hold your hands together like you I did.” You do so and await his next instructions. “I want you to close your eyes,” you close them, “and think of what makes you happiest—it doesn’t matter when, whether it will be in the future or stuck in the past; it’s up to you.”

You think of making your own garden, with flowers that you have planted and cultivated yourself. You think of Mother healthy again, skin glowing like she did so many years ago. You think of the baby brother you once wanted, running around the cut grass on his stubby feet. Lastly, you don’t think of Father and his family. Yet nothing happens. You open your eyes and blankly look at your uncle in disappointment.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You huff. “But it didn’t work.”

Uncle Hatsugu pushes on your forehead with his forefinger, making you cover it up with a glare. “You’re not trying hard enough.”

“Then what am I supposed to think about?”

“I don’t know,” he admonishes. “Happiness is subjective to every person.”

“What makes you happy? What do you think about while making that white fire?”

His eyes glazed over as if he were watching a scene only he could see. A smile painting an arrangement of periwinkles and forget-me-nots creates itself on his lips, blues and purples shifting around each other and creating a sentimental mess. It takes him a moment to reign himself back to the present, with you patiently trailing your eyes over his face. “It’s always about simpler times. Like Mom cutting watermelon slices on summer days, growing my first flower for the first time, or,” he trails off, “wishing for a memory that is impossible to happen because you are here, the proof that it did happen.” His face contorts into a rueful smile, reaching out to pat the crown of your head. “I always imagine my sister never getting married, staying right here in our estate, and not having children — she is—”

“The happiest you’ve seen her,” you finish for him and he pales. “I know.” You look down at the kimono you have, a miniature copy of Mother’s. “I sometimes wonder what it would be like if Mother is not the mother I’ve grown to adore. Maybe I could be a different child.”

“Hey, I apologise for putting that thought in your head—”

“It’s alright, I’ve grown quite used to them.”

“What do you—”

You quickly lift your head. “Can you help me now?”

“U-Uh, sure,” Uncle Hatsugu stutters. “Try another memory. If you don’t mind me asking, what was the first one you used?”

You pout. “Mother being healthy again and my baby brother being alive.”

He nods in understanding. “How about this? Can you think of a place where you feel like you can breathe more easily?”

“I can try.”

“You will,” he fixes you with a playfully stern look, “and I won’t take no for an answer.”

You nod in determination. “Okay.”

“Okay! Now, do it all over again.”

You close your eyes and this time, you’re calm. Suddenly, you feel a gentle breeze covering your hands. The sensation urges you to open your eyes. On the palms of your hands is almost like that heart-fire demon in a movie you once watched. You expect the fire to burn your skin off but you’re thrown back to the memory of Mother healing your wound — that ticklish thing travelling through the lines of your skin. You did it.

“Oh, gods, you did it,” Uncle Hatsugu breathes. “You did it, sprout! What did you think of this time?”

Still mesmerised at the white fire, you say, “A forest. An evergreen forest that seems to know both everything and nothing. It’s like that forest I’ve seen in a movie with cute spirits, filled with life and a possibility of a blight inside.”

Again, you never want another sibling.

The Joushou clan is in an uproar.

Another boy went to the depths of the earth. Fingers pointing at the useless Hanamo clan whose only worth comes in getting bred by strong sorcerers. Your uncle nearly grows poisonous vines at the baseless accusation. Father stoically faces the storm. The Zen’in clan, especially a man with a bottle of sake for an accessory, laughs at Father for bearing the irony of possessing The Glorified Womb yet never having a son—an heir.

Yet one thing remains in your mind.

An image of Mother crumbling to her knees with a pool of blood for a moat surrounding her.

You’re ten when Mother finally departs from the world in a flurry of red spider lilies, leaving behind a younger sister instead of a brother. Both disappointments and blows to your father’s family. Everybody is clad, once again, in mourning black but you feel as if you’re the only one who genuinely grieves for Mother. Her family is not even present at the funeral services, purposefully banned from ever entering the Joushou clan’s gates for sullying their name by introducing their failure of a daughter to their head. You can feel the tension in the wooden panels of the house, the harsh whispers of the elders, and the animosity behind closed doors.

All of the flowers in the estate withered with her, you notice. It is only when you step out to the lifeless gardens that with each barefoot step you make the colours bleed through. You stop in front of the carnations that once made you bleed. They were the flowers you’ve seen Mother plant without using her cursed technique. She talks to them, you once saw, whispering sweet nothings as if they were her children just as much as you are. You realise that you have your younger siblings all along but the role of the protector fell on them.

“Watch over my little petal, alright? She may be reckless but she is kind and understanding, worthy of being the flower who will tend to this garden once I pass.”

You blankly stare at them now while lowering yourself to the ground, sitting like you were once on the engawa watching the butterflies jump from flower to flower, never realising that tear tracks start to form on your cheeks like the trails of fallen stars. With each tear that drops on the soil, a sprout pierces through the soil, growing and growing until a solitary carnation comes from a carefully tucked bud and brushes the tears on your left cheek away. That only makes you cry even harder.

You don’t know how long you’ve been there while the services are still ongoing in the estate but you startle when the carnation squeaks at you to look behind you.

Heartbeat lodged in your throat, butterflies making your stomach queasy, and time standing still, you find yourself staring at a black-haired boy at the entrance of this part of the gardens — his eyes wide, chest too still to indicate any breathing, and scar a sharp contrast to his pale skin. He’s dressed in black and only one colour is standing among the dreary coldness of the once vibrant foliage.

A pair of evergreen forests for eyes.

additional notes:

Joushou — Reader's last name; Mainly from the term shoujou since reader is almost like a protagonist of a shoujou manga (born to be in a shoujou, forced to be in shounen rip). Kanji: 浄聖; 浄 (clean, pure, beautify, unsullied) + 聖 (holy, sacred, imperial); Prides themselves for possessing a CT named Nullification, which stems from their constant renewal and flow of reverse cursed technique, even going as far as creating a barrier that can render any cursed energy attack useless or to break a domain expansion, hence, getting the moniker of the House of Purity.

Hanamo — The maiden name of Reader's mother; Kanji: 花茂; 花 (of the flowers) + 茂 (lush, abundant, thriving, outstanding, diligent); The women in this clan are most known to be Heir Makers since the Golden Age of Sorcery, having possessed the Glorified Womb after being blessed by the goddess of creation.

Floral Anima — comes from the Greek term anima, which means the soul or the irrational part of it. Its principle comes from the belief that all life possess a soul, even plants. By having this CT, those in the Hanamo clan can manipulate the anima or souls of the flora to their liking, with them only influenced if there is a constant output of reverse cursed technique (positive). This allows the sorcerer to grow plants in varying degrees, make them burst forth from spots of cursed energy, and create safety spots or prisons when absolutely necessary. They can also make use of the type of plant they have around them to create a multitude of attacks than can be gentle but highly offensive as well.

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[tieflingfingers]

The Barbaric Feminine

What and who: Humor, Mild Fluff. Thomasin and Alfira play music. Wyll and Karlach roast Astarion. Aradin and Remira need to leave. Summary: Thomasin encourages Alfira to put on a little show for the caravan to both cure her writer’s block and encourage her peers. All the companions witness Aradin and Remira's pettiness. Astarion learns the true meaning of art. Warning/Content: Just a little fun character building and au event in the grove. I love the tieflings. Part of series. More in the realm of character study, per usual, so also a lot about two elves that are bad at feelings. And an ounce of fighting. Word Count: 3,443 Ao3 Link

Thomasin swished her skirt to and fro to the light jingling emitting from her boots. Bells hooked on straps, buckled onto her shoes for a theatrical flare. A contraption she’d made herself after inspired by another performer long ago. She tightened her finest corset, whose fabric had to be fully reupholstered upon purchase, and let it cinch the excess of her dress. Her sleeves billowed, to match every other asset, and followed every single movement she made.

With a sudden stomping of her heels, she clacked them firm onto the wooden floor boards beneath her to settle the small crowd of tieflings. 

“Well, thank you kindly for wanting to see me perform today!” she announced to the gathering, careful to make sure each word had its proper annunciation. Her hosting skills were quite rusty. “After the warmth, gifts, and open arms, how could I say no? My name is Thomasin, if we haven’t formally met, and I’m here to lift a few spirits today!”

In front of Dammon’s roost and the soup kitchen, the wooden platform where many rested their heads was reinvigorated and reinvented into a makeshift stage. Rudimentary in design and weathered by the elements over years, but that didn’t stop Alfira from proposing such camaraderie nights before. Each performer was to simply stand at the edge of the staircase and present their talent. 

Alfira had found herself confessing worries of her passing teacher’s legacy and the artistic block that coincided. How the confidence of herself and her people had been lost after such rocky migration and the nerves of the caravan were relentlessly rustled. She wished that, for one single evening, battles were of little importance. And, in her own wholesome logic, she decided that entertaining her brethren was vital. 

The tiefling would heal with the arts. She would play her lute. Someone wanted to juggle. Someone could eat an apple in two bites. No auditions, just nonsensical amusement. They had sat through scrappy children showing off their introductive cantrips. Lullabies and travel songs belted from the lungs of mothers. Sword balancing acts and flashy conjuration spells with advisory warnings. Thomasin needed no begging to be thrown into the roster.

Scattered before the staircase were horned children, parents, and tipsy friends alike. Even with little luxuries, they set out blankets in the dirt and indulge in whatever festivities they could find. Dammon’s blacksmith quarters radiated a heat that cozied the onlookers as they passed around loaves of honey bread and apples. Bottles of gin and moonshine made their way around. No fear or pain where the supply was constant, guzzled down until the last drop hit someone’s tongue. 

Behind Thomasin, Wyll, Karlach and Astarion settled near a table atop the platform, further behind the performing acts. Out of the tieflings’ eyeline, but more than participating from the comfort of a canopy. The same spot where Remira and Aradin had previously settled their claim. 

In honesty, the humans' plans to head out in search of holy artifacts and bounty riches gave Zevlor respite. Their presence was now nothing more than packed bags and distasteful comments upon passing. Remira stood a few feet away from Astarion and the others, tucked behind a sturdy support beam engraved with white naturalistic patterns. She watched Thomasin with contempt, awaiting Aradin’s return so they could leave before sunset. Going out in a flash of dramatics would give them more trouble than it was worth.

Thomasin readied herself. The half-elf lifted her violin up to her chin, tucking it comfortably, and raised her bow. A studied grace. “If you know the words to this one, please join! Nothing more beautiful than a harmony from your good graces!”

Before she knew it, she had slipped into the role. It didn’t matter how makeshift or sudden the gig was, there was tremendous relief. The connection to others in the name of mundane, if not jovial, normalcy. She was in her element. Glittering pigments collected over years sparkled on her eyelids and left iridescent streaks across her cheekbones. No more than a few hard smacks of her heel and the half-elf began to sing a common, yet classic bard ditty. Something bright and upbeat.

They all watched as Thomasin glided around the small corner of the platform, some in awe like she were an exotic bird spreading its wings. Circles, winks, keeping multiple rhythms in tact. Her ribbons were tightened and her outfit meticulously ironed by metal heated over their campfire. Like a single fraction of time where everything was in its place.

Propped against barrels under the canopy’s shade, her companions watched her perform. Karlach busied herself with fruits warming in her hands and gin she passed back and forth to Wyll. The two practiced their most enthusiastic cheers. If they were to tour this to Baldur’s Gate, their fanaticism had to be as perfect as their friend’s talents. 

Astarion opted for a subtle approach. He leaned back, arms crossed, perhaps to prove he knew how to consume art most effectively. Even if his expression settled into cynicism, there was no doubt he couldn’t help but gaze upon her. 

Thomasin swished her hips, making a spectacle out of every inch of her person. The dulcet tone of her voice. The strings of her violin. The bells shaking and whipping about with each step. Even when she stopped her flow of dancing, earning pause from the crowd, her skirt would wrap around her legs, then unravel in a swirl of cornflower blue revelry once more. 

Astarion found himself squinting at the details of her dress.

He remembered the night he and Thomasin laid under the stars and reminisced about their favorite, most prized thefts. Small trophies, but ones that lived on as fashion staples. High heeled boots from a cheating man’s wardrobe. Bolts of fabric lifted from elderly women with a storefront and unwelcoming demeanors. Beads broken from a drunk aristocrat’s necklace and confiscated with a swift scoop up into pockets.

That’s what he recognized. The hem of her dress. The glint of repurposed opalite beads sparkled against glowing faerie lights. A product of multiple late nights, pinning and picking at a dress she never wore on the road. He’d watch her fall into a quiet trance for hours around the fire, pulling at thread and pinching tiny beads, stringing them along. It was one of the few guilty pleasures she invited in. A reward after mending a hole along Wyll’s inseams or re-attaching a buckle to Karlach’s leather straps.

Astarion was getting lost in the magnetism she garnered from her act. Admired how she bounced back from days where bodies ached and brains barely functioned, now teeming with unbridled vitality. No longer in lethargic depths, free to experience the wonder of watering her like a well-pruned leafy plant. Naturally, he took the credit where he could though. His personal rations and food scraps were often gifted to Thomasin in nonchalant exchanges. If he wasn’t to eat it, at least she could be nurtured.

He noticed her growing into her softness. What he imagined she was like before the days of treacherous nature walks and feasts only composed of wine and wild lentils. The masses now got to gawk those same ample hips but jealousy was nothing he was going to voice. Their minds must’ve ventured into poetic saccharine monologues. Ones that, in his opinion, were for lust-riddled simpletons. Nothing more than idealism and viewing her beauty as a commodity. Best used to simply get you wanted and leave before the beautiful possession caught on.

“Philistines can’t even enjoy music without all the moonshine coursing through them,” Astarion muttered.

Karlach stopped in the midst of her swaying, befuddled at how he could keep still. How he was not enamored, even at the most platonic level, by the art Thomasin created. She knocked her bottle of gin into his arm, shoving his lithe frame a bit. The joy in her voice was palpable.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look at you. Can’t even enjoy yourself for a night. You upset because everyone is looking at how pretty she is all dressed up?” the large tiefling said, trying her best to keep her volume respectful.

He scowled at Karlach, knowing she wasn’t phased by such grouchiness, and snatched the gin from her hand. His eyes watered with regret immediately upon taking a swig, scrunching his nose. It burned with a fierceness down his gullet. “Ack- gods no. I’m upset by the terrible choice of alcohol in this place.” 

Astarion looked back over at the half-elf to assess his thoughts. Despite encouraging her musical endeavors, he always included a jab that undercut such complimentary words. It was natural to him. Yet, he began to realize had never heard her sing more than a well-tuned hum. Never saw her dance unless guided by Wyll’s hand.

The closest he could recall may have been during her worship of Eilistraee, but those were always witnessed from afar. Memories housed only within the context of his own selfish voyeurism. Maybe self-expression wasn’t always frivolous, he thought.

The elf caught himself staring, mind drifting between conflicting hypotheticals and amorous soliloquies. Details that he was quick to shake from his consciousness. “Thomasin is doing a just fine job,” he followed up plainly.

“Perhaps she could teach you a thing or two, Astarion. How to show that personable side hiding deep in that illustrious heart of yours,” Wyll teased, his half of the gin adding blush tones to his cheeks. “What if you’re a natural born performer?”

Astarion scoffed. “I’ve got a skillset already, thank you very much. I haven’t gotten this far just on looks, I will have you know.” His fingers pressed flat against his own chest. “Personality is half my charm. You should try it sometime.”

The sour attitude and unapologetic gumption tickled his two drunken companions, suppressing their laughter to not become interruptive. Mirth so bountiful, it leaked between the cracks of their fingers clasped over their mouths.

“I’ve gotten this far on looks alone, you should try it.” Karlach eventually said, catching her breath. She had begun to stretch her chest wide, back tightened, and presented the bend of her arms in a muscular flex. Years of pommeling through Avernus had to pay off in some capacity. “It’s versatility, ain’t it? Being hot in every sense of the word really gets the ladies going.”

Wyll clinked their shared bottle onto her bicep in agreement before gesturing to his own horns. A facet of his appearance he was still getting used to, but bonding amongst Elturel survivors made acclimation easier. “The horns are also a definite plus, I’m growing to learn. Nothing like romantic poetry penned by a horn dipped in the finest oil inks.”

“Yeah, exactly. Oily inks.” Karlach pointed to Wyll with her thumb, mouth full of fruit, mumbling her words. Juices from an apple, crisp between her pointed teeth, flew out as she spoke. Although she decided to ignore the fact, knowing she would break into a fit of laughter over Astarion vocalizing disgust. 

He did notice.

He did sneer.

“You two are insufferable. I’ll let you know I have remarkable, if not astonishing, reviews without all the tricks,” Astarion said, waving a dismissive hand. His lips, then, curled in a hint of amusement at their taunting. 

They three continued swaying their heads, clapping as stray copper coins and picked wildflowers were thrown at Thomasin’s feet. The half-elf felt herself return back into her body by the end of the song, engulfed by the rain of praise, and grinned from ear to ear. Genuine unadulterated happiness. She bowed to the small crowd.

When she rose, the sting of coins pelted against her back, followed by a familiar thud. The sound of arrowheads, two to be exact, penetrating wood behind her. She rolled her shoulders, determined to not acknowledge it. To not let it ruin her composure. At her feet, she noticed Wyll crouch to gather all the flora and tips left, whispering tipsy affirmations to her and lurching back to their spot to keep her gifts safe. 

Thanks to him, her smile never faltered, and she went onto presenting the next act. 

“Thank you! Thank you all very much, dearly,” she cheered, holding her violin idle in her arms. “This lovely evening was all brought to you by the ever so talented, Alfira.” 

Alfira ran up the far staircase where Karlach and the others stood, flashing them a sheepish delight with her lute clutched tight. Karlach felt herself blush at the sight of the feminine tiefling’s pastel whimsy, offering her own toothy grin. The bard looked overwhelmed, but particularly gorgeous that night. The way her pink and blue undertones glowed under the low sunlight.

She had to say something. Anything. 

“You’re gonna do wonderful, babe,” Karlach whispered, giving Alfira a thumbs up as she scurried down the long platform and up to the crowd. A sigh as Karlach critiqued her less than smooth demeanor.

Thomasin’s arm extended to present Alfira in all her glory. “Speaking of the delight of your travels. Please give a round of applause and your utmost attention to Alfira on the lute!” The two musicians exchanged a supportive hug before Thomsin bowed again and walked back to her companions.

As she approached the canopy, she caught the sight of Aradin and Remira. The curly-haired man had returned, hand just barely on the railing before he made eye contact with her. A face plastered with smug satisfaction and obvious inebriation on his breath. 

Remira glared at the drunken human coming up the stairs. Not only did she recognize his anger simmering, but she was pinned to the support beam by the shot of arrows through her clothes. Two, again, to be exact. Comeuppance for the fact her silly little hostile coin toss resulted in Astarion’s swift archery. Pettiness resolved by the act of more pettiness. All she could do was await for Aradin to reign terror in her honor and help her down. 

“Did you need something, darling?” Thomasin said softly, setting her violin aside and kneeling before him from her elevated height. Her fingers fiddled with the buckles on her boots, unlatching the bells from them. She felt her performative pleasantries loosening as she remembered her first day at the grove. How punching him square in the face may have not been the answer, but her tolerance for masculine pride had been long ground into oblivion. Now, she was in her brightest pigments. He was no match for her when rouge made her stronger, taller, more powerful. 

Aradin flicked a coin her direction, amused by his own taunting as it bounced off her shoulder. His eyes wandered long after though, taking a step closer, blatant and unrepentant in her objectification.

“Was gonna call you a bitch for making all this commotion by our awning, but I gotta admit you clean up pretty nicely, don’t ya?” he responded. 

The comment made her grin. Solidified her reasoning for retaliation. Her lashes fluttered in the name of feminine mystique before glancing over at Alfira at the opposite end, entertaining her peers. Dancing lights bloomed around the tiefling as she reveled in the attention. Belting out a song that would make her teacher proud. As long as the tiefling was well into her song, Aradin would be dealt with. 

To the backdrop of Alfira’s lute and nervous melody, Thomasin took a step forward, pressing the base of her heeled boot against Aradin’s chest, its thick stem situated right atop his sternum. Her shoulders pushed forward, chest enclosing in on her bent knee, and kicked him back with the force of her shifted weight.

His build hit the ground with a solid heft, blood pressure rising at such disrespect. Perched upon his elbows, back still laying in dirt below, Thomasin grabbed the bottom of her dress and walked down the steps. The human’s face contorted into a myriad of emotions. Disdain, confusion, and then reluctant enticement as she walked over him and settled in a straddle atop his lap. 

Astarion’s eyebrows rose at her sudden dominance, noticing Wyll and Karlach’s similar disbelief. They merely waited with excitement and bated breath for this was the last place they expected a bar fight. So, the elf did the honors and grabbed her instrument for protection, stepping back with no comment or snark to be heard. He respected the arts now, after all.

Thomasin grabbed Aradin’s wrists and pinned them above his head, noting the lack of struggle on his part. It was a relief. Reassurance she had the upper hand. A man that could overpower her if he wished, playing feeble in hopes of gifted flesh. She proceeded to tighten her posture, back curved and body shifting into fluidity. 

Practical, utilitarian sexuality. It was all performative in nature, far from her actual desires, but the skill set promised survival. Retribution was never a natural instinct of hers. At least not one from birth or even youth. The seed was planted over decades of unpredictable company, learning from the adults around her. Their feuds, loyalty, murder, and pacts. It bore its roots deep, granting her access to her own sadism. Sleeping, unkempt, until it thrashed out in the name of untrustworthy bandits or unsavory temporary lovers.

“Aha- not one for being on the bottom, but I’ll take one for the team,” he tittered.

Thomasin giggled back at him like she’d done to countless others before. 

Methodical and sensual, she crept closer and closer to his ear. The half-elf braced herself for whatever his reaction may be, screwed her eyes tight, and let forth a faint blue glow from her lips. Dissonant whispers. The language of her ancestors spliced with nightmares of catastrophic proportions. Threats to the nervous system, disjointed phrases, and speech so rapid, it ran his blood cold.

 They all clashed into one another, almost as painful to his biology as it was incoherent. The glowing wispy smoke crawled into Aradin’s ear canals and thrashed through every microscopic crevice of his brain. Only a few seconds, but enough to make up for the multiple stressors he inflicted on others outside the grove.

He gasped for air as his body took its time regulating itself, crawling backwards in desperation. Trying to figure out how Thomasin had shifted back from an extraplanar terror back to her unintimidating figure. Chest heaving for any semblance of comprehension.

The half-elf leaned back, palms flat and raised to allow him to scurry away. She didn’t prolong his horror. She had no need to. But, she couldn’t deny her heart raced with self-satisfaction. No matter how many times she found the drive to fight back, she knew it had a chance of ending with her demise. Of course, the thought frightened her, but she couldn’t dwell. She knelt where he left her, brushing off stains from their grassy tussle and watching his dilated pupils mellow.

“First the tieflings and now the drow. No keeping the fucking peace in these parts,” he spat at her, scrambling to his feet to scuttle off.

“Don’t be scared everyone is going to find out you’re nothing more than an impetuous noisy cuck.” she retorted, scorn riddled on her face.

Thomasin turned her head to notice the three watching her in light awe. She tried to catch her breath from the intense exertion of both her emotions and the Weave, reminding her body that she was safe. An easy assertion for a titter soon left her lips. She noticed Astartion’s foot propped up beside Remira, giving her mercy with a yank of the arrows to allow her to fall to the floor. No much grace offered, but the human wanted no pity after being strung up in humiliation.

The group watched as the two humans darted away, bickering at one another for their lack of judgment, and then focused back to Thomasin.

“Cheers to that, I suppose,” Wyll said, raising his bottle and taking a swig, then handing it off to Karlach.

“Cheers. Not going to sugarcoat it, that was kinda hot, mate.” The tiefling grabbed the gin, colored by her love of rough-housing and unfortunate touch-starvation. Her word was an objective, undebatable fact.

Astarion felt himself laugh. Unhindered and genuine for the first time that evening. 

“Praise the Dark Maiden,” he proclaimed.

[lunar-eclipse-bunnies]

NINJAGO TAROT DRAFT IVE HAD FOR 8 MONTHS imagine them as either just designs or with deeper meanings, i'm too tired to do a lot of analysis but i Am Right. prefacing this with YES i have character biases, and YES they are present here<3 its my blog ill post what i want (no i will not be tagging the characters i rag on i do not want to be bothered about them)

The Fool - lloyd. not that lloyd is a fool, but he is the blank slate, the character written to be of infinite opportunity. he can be reckless and innocent, naive and idealistic, gullible but free. even this late into the series his sense of self continues to change and evolve, never settling in a single place; the upright is young lloyd, our youthful and ignorant protagonist. the reverse is current lloyd, weighed down by the actions of not only his father, mother and uncle, but himself. his card should have 2 panels, one with babey lloyd and the other with older lloyd. maybe juggling his friends' elemental symbols, just for spice. spicy clownery.

The Magician - this is jay, hands down. i'm picking things/characters based on upright and reversed meanings, and while jay debuts as an determined and powerful character, he slips pretty quickly into the card's reverse meaning, often utilizing "manipulation, cunning, and deception" to get his way. most of the time it is subtle, as his manipulative tendencies have been slowly elaborated on over the course of the series. he can be summoning lightning or something with his card.

The High Priestess - skylor. again, the reverse is past skylor, during her brief betrayal, and the upright is present skylor, a wise ally and friend. i want her in her father's snake hat and in his chair. thank u

The Empress - misako, purely for the reverse meaning. i dont care about her so her card can be whatever

The Emperor - garmadon, same reason and also gotta match with the (ex) wifey! give my guy garm his 4 arms too pls

The Hierophant - kai. source: just trust me bro

The Lovers - pixal & zane, duh. they literally share zane's fighting skill after she receives half his heart in season 3, she and he are inseparable (re: essentially headmates) for the following 4 seasons, and are often depicted as the healthiest "het" couple in the show. they are DEVASTATED when they lose each other, their sense of balance. they're in love your honor damnit. HAVE THEM EMBRACE.

The Chariot - the bounty. mostly because it represents a home for the ninja for a good while in the show and is the only real space they can enact control and their wills on for a while. also because the significance of the bounty crashing in season 8 really encompasses the reverse meaning. just replace the chariot w the boat in the card.

Strength - cole. not just because of his super strength, but because he is the MOST compassionate and brave character in this entire goddamn show. say what you will but cole has been through death and back, dropped from a hundred story drop, lost his friends, his sensei, his best friend, AND had to resurrect his mother's legacy with his bare hands. this man has never once been shown to back down from a cause, take the coward's way out, or plain give up because he's the most tied to this ninja morality. when cole is disheartened, he takes it out on himself, gets mad at HIMSELF, never on other people like jay, kai, lloyd and even nya are prone to. give my boy a goddamn break. please let him chill w rocky in his card :) maybe give him his lava arms tho

The Hermit - WU DUH. meaning fits but also his card should have him drinking tea with a three-way split panel behind him showing off the places he found his students. good day

The Wheel of Fortune - cloud kingdom. cloud kingdom. damn those nerdy little bastards.

Justice - AKITA AKITA. karmic justice ring a bell, anyone? we can weigh her mask on the scale or something, just let her have her moment :)

The Hanged Man - yallre gonna hate me but this is actually zane. sacrifice is the NAME of the card. he keeps sacrificing himself, even when it ISNT needed. would love it if his card had him tied to the forbidden spinjitzu scroll, that would be pog

Death - morro. HA u thought you could escape him lol no. have him be bitchass. maybe show his ghost hanging around his skeleton or something. make it green

Temperance - ... ronin. i had some trouble with this, but i think this card captures him pretty well.

The Devil - Harumi. mostly because i already drew her a card, but also because of the reversed meaning.

The Tower - the great devourer. i think thats explanation enough.

The Star - ... benthomaar. am i jsut adding the jade ninja characters at this point? yes, yes i am. do they still fit? aboslutely. give my guy bentho a FUCKIN crown

The Moon - ECHO ECHO PLEASE. deception? illusions??? thats their bread and goddamn butter!!!! PUT THE LIGHTHOUSE AT NIGHT IN THEIR CARD, YOU COWARDS!!!

The Sun - vania. vania. vania. vania. will i elaborate? no!

Judgement - pixal, hands down. calm evaluation? being highly aware of yourself???? thats just pix, babey!!! and the reverse, FUCK, self doubt,,,, she rarely has those moments but!! when she DOES!!! AHHHHHH/POS

The World - NYA NYA NYA. NYA IN HER ELEMENTAL FORM HEAR ME OUT GUYS. in the upright meaning its her early season self, doing well on her own, achieving and succeeding and being fulfilled, and the reversed is her skybound to present self, stagnating as a character, no longer succeeding on her own or through her own means. the card also has to do with cycles, and considering how many times nya has died or been forced to change, well. who else would this card be???

[reviewsfromreel]

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (Review)

Director: Joel Crawford, Januel Mercado

Runtime: 1h 42mins

Animation, Adventure, Fantasy

When Puss in Boots realises he’s burned through 8 of his 9 lives, he embarks on an adventure to find the mystical “Last Wish”. 

The new kineticism found in the action is instantly noticeable in the surging heroism of the film’s opening sequence. As Puss defeats enemy after enemy, swinging from a bell tower to defeat a monster, it reminds you of a similar energy that Lord and Miller perfected with Spider-Man: Into the Multiverse – although Puss in Boots finds its own voice from the central character and its sun-kissed backdrop. 

After years of living on the edge Puss in Boots has recklessly lost 8 of his 9 lives. It isn’t until he’s met by a mysterious Bounty Hunter that the fear kicks in, leading him on an existential journey – challenging legacy vs. happiness while also coming to terms with the inevitable end we all must face. It’s ironic that such a drastically different film of the same year, Martin McDonagh’s Banshees of Inisherin, challenges similar themes of legacy and what we leave when we die – but in a way it speaks volumes about the universality of the message and how despite being so different in audience and tone, the themes really can strike a cord no matter the style. 

As Puss, old flame Softpaws and new friend Perrito head further and further into the “Dark Forest”, hot on their tails are the enemies made along the way. As well as the aforementioned Bounty Hunter tracking Puss’ every step, they are being hunted by Goldilocks and the three bears (voiced by an all-star British cast) and Jack Horner. While Horner is more throwaway as the irredeemable evil, it’s Goldilocks’ narrative, of finding a ‘normal’ family instead of the bears, that brings even more warmth and togetherness to an already wholesome story. 

Much like Soul did two years ago, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish understands its audience while being unafraid to discuss a more poignant story about death, and what we leave behind. Its challenging themes sit wonderfully against the energetic animation style and despite the link to the Shrek universe still playing a big part in its characters, this film deserves to stand on its own four paws.

4/5

[greatimageexpedition]

Discovering the Best Tanzania Luxury Safari Experience

A fortune in East Africa, Tanzania is an entrancing blend of lively societies, stunning scenes, and unparalleled natural life. An extravagance safari in Tanzania is an entryway to nature's most excellent scenes for those searching for a wanton escape. The experience that typifies the "best Tanzania luxury safari experience" is one that joins richness with the crude excellence of the wild, guaranteeing that every voyager has an extraordinary excursion.

The Serengeti: A Sumptuous Step into Nature

While envisioning the best Tanzania lavishness safari experience, the Serengeti Recreational area habitually rings a bell. With its immense savannahs and overflow of natural life, this famous objective commitments experiences with the eminent "Enormous Five," yet additionally a stay in a portion of the world's most choice hotels and camps. Imagine arousing to the traces of nature in a rich rose suite, complete with current comforts and a singular head worker.

Following a day of exciting game drives, the Serengeti's extravagance lodges, similar to the Four Seasons Safari Cabin and Singita Grumeti, give an extreme retreat where you can loosen up. The Serengeti is a display of nature's greatness consistently. The Exceptional Development, one of the most shocking normal life events on the planet, sees countless wildebeest, zebras, and gazelles crossing the fields. The best extravagance safari experience in Tanzania is seeing this regular miracle from a sight-seeing balloon, trailed by a champagne breakfast in nature.

Ngorongoro Cavity: A Lavish Experience with Old Scenes

The Ngorongoro Cavity, an UNESCO World Legacy site that is regularly alluded to as Africa's Eden, is one more gem in the crown of Tanzania. Extravagance and experience sweethearts run to the pit because of its lavish scene and bountiful natural life. Probably the best cabins in Africa are roosted on the edge of the hole, offering totally amazing perspectives. At the point when you stay at the Ngorongoro Hole Cabin or the andBeyond Ngorongoro Pit Hotel, you'll approach top notch administration and unparalleled solace.

Exploring the pit floor reveals a microcosm of East African untamed life. The Ngorongoro Cavity is an untamed life sweetheart's heaven, with huge crowds of elephants and flamingos turning the soft drink lakes pink and the slippery dark rhino. Excess safaris here are enhanced by coordinated walks and picnics in disconnected spots, outfitting individual encounters with nature's quality.

Selous Game Hold: A Restrictive Departure into Untamed Excellence

The Selous Game Hold offers a cut of flawless wild distant from the very much voyaged streets for those looking for a more confidential retreat. Seen as one of the greatest game save in Africa, Selous joins rough, perfect scenes with rich offices, making it a solid contender for the best Tanzania lavishness safari experience. At the point when visitors stay at selective hotels like the Sand Streams Selous or the Beho Camp, they can anticipate extravagant suites that mix in with the normal setting. Here, peacefulness and a solid association with the normal world characterize extravagance another way. Practices in Selous consolidate boat safaris along the Rufiji Stream, walking safaris coordinated by experienced trackers, and game drives that cross colossal, impeccable districts.

Zanzibar: A Sumptuous Island Escape

Without a side outing to Zanzibar, the flavor island, no excursion to Tanzania would be finished. With its flawless sea shores, turquoise waters, and verifiable appeal, Zanzibar is the ideal extravagant supplement to days spent investigating the plentiful untamed life on the central area. The Home Zanzibar and the Mnemba Island Hotel are two of the best extravagance resorts on the island. There, visitors are blessed to receive private estates, connoisseur eating, and restoring spa medicines. Past the sea shores, Zanzibar's Stone Town, an UNESCO World Legacy Site with its mind boggling roads, clamoring marketplaces, and exceptionally old engineering, gives a social submersion into Swahili culture.

Making Your Definitive Extravagance Safari in Tanzania

To make the best extravagance safari experience in Tanzania, it's sufficiently not to simply pick the best places to go; you want to make an outing that mirrors your own inclinations. Whether it's the fervor of seeing the Unique Development, the serene brilliance of the Ngorongoro Pit, the limitation of the Selous Game Hold, or the untainted coastlines of Zanzibar, Tanzania offers weaving of lavish experiences fit to be explored. At the point when you work with trustworthy safari administrators, you should rest assured that your excursion will be painstakingly arranged down to the last detail. From redid timetables to custom organizations, they tailor the journey to outperform your presumptions.

The best Tanzania luxury safari experience isn't just about seeing normal life; it's connected to soaking yourself in an environment where each second is made faultlessly, making memories that will persevere for eternity. Set out on a trip where luxury meets the wild, and track down Tanzania's most enchanting corners in the lap of extravagance.

[sildees1515445415]

Unveiling the Delightful World of Sildees: A Culinary Journey

In the realm of culinary exploration, there exists a treasure trove of flavors waiting to be discovered, and among them lies the enigmatic charm of "Sildees." While the name might not immediately ring a bell for many, those who have experienced its culinary allure understand its unique appeal. Join us as we embark on a flavorful journey to uncover the secrets and delights of Sildees.

Unlocking the Mystery: What are Sildees?

Sildees, often hailed as a culinary delicacy, are small, flavorful fish that hold a special place in various gastronomic traditions worldwide. These diminutive delights are typically enjoyed whole, providing a burst of oceanic flavor with each bite. While their name might vary depending on the region, their universal appeal transcends cultural boundaries.

Culinary Versatility: Sildees in Various Cuisines

One of the remarkable characteristics of Sildees is their adaptability across diverse culinary landscapes. From Mediterranean meze platters to Asian delicacies, Sildees find their way onto tables in myriad forms. In Mediterranean cuisine, they are often marinated in olive oil, garlic, and herbs before being grilled to perfection, offering a tantalizing blend of flavors and textures. In contrast, Asian cuisines might feature Sildees in spicy sambal sauces or delicately pickled for a refreshing twist.

Nutritional Bounty: The Health Benefits of Sildees

Beyond their culinary appeal, Sildees also boast an impressive array of nutritional benefits. Packed with omega-3 fatty acids, protein, and essential vitamins and minerals, these tiny fish pack a powerful punch when it comes to supporting overall health and well-being. From promoting heart health to bolstering brain function, Sildees offer a nutrient-rich addition to any diet.

Sustainability and Conservation: Ensuring the Future of Sildees

As with any natural resource, the sustainability of Sildees is of paramount importance. With increasing concerns over overfishing and habitat destruction, efforts to conserve Sildee populations are crucial for preserving both their ecological role and culinary legacy. Sustainable fishing practices, marine conservation efforts, and responsible consumption habits all play integral roles in safeguarding the future of Sildees for generations to come.

For more info:-

sildees trans

[travelluxegroup]

Quintessential Tuscany - Photographing Italy's Countryside Charm

Capturing the Soul of Tuscany Through Photography Tuscany is one of the most picturesque regions in Italy, and it is no wonder that it has been the subject of many high-quality photographs. With its rolling hills, lush vineyards, and charming villages, Tuscany is a photographer's paradise. To truly capture the essence of Tuscany, one must find unique perspectives and focus on the details that make the region so special. Finding Unique Perspectives When photographing Tuscany, it is important to find unique perspectives to set your images apart from those of other photographers. Rather than just photographing the typical postcard views, try experimenting with different angles and compositions to add interest to your photos. One technique is to shoot from a low angle to create a sense of depth in the landscape. Another is to use longer lenses to isolate interesting features in the landscape, such as a lone cypress tree or a flock of sheep. Focusing on the Details The beauty of Tuscany is in the details, and capturing these details is key to capturing the soul of the region. Pay attention to the texture and patterns in the landscape, such as the rows of grapevines or the intricate stonework of a medieval village. A great way to draw attention to these details is to shoot during the golden hour, when the warm light of the setting sun adds a magical quality to the landscape. Taking Portraits of the Locals Tuscany is known for its friendly and welcoming locals, and their personalities can add a human element to your photographs. Take portraits of the locals in their natural setting, whether it's a shopkeeper at the local market or a farmer tending to his crops. Be respectful and ask for permission before taking their photo, and consider leaving them a print as a small token of appreciation. By finding unique perspectives, focusing on the details, and taking portraits of the locals, you can capture the soul of Tuscany through your photography. With a little creativity and a keen eye, you can create images that truly capture the essence of this beautiful region. The Charm of Tuscany's Countryside When it comes to the charm of Tuscany, the countryside is a major contributor. As you roam through the rolling hills, your senses will be filled with the sight of sun-kissed valleys dotted with cypress trees, the sound of chirping birds and rustling of leaves, the smell of freshly baked bread and herbs, the taste of local wine, and the touch of cool, Tuscan breeze on your skin. Idyllic Villages Tuscany's countryside is adorned with idyllic villages that are a photographer's paradise. The distant bell towers, pastel-painted houses, and narrow, winding streets lead to picturesque squares, where locals gather to chat, play cards, and sip coffee. It's impossible not to fall in love with the charming architecture and the laid-back lifestyle of these villages. Some of the must-visit villages in Tuscany are San Gimignano, Montepulciano, Volterra, and Pienza. Nature's Bounty The countryside is also home to Tuscany's agricultural heartland. From vineyards to olive groves, from sunflowers to wheat fields, the land is fertile and abundant. The region is known for its world-class wine, including Chianti, Brunello di Montalcino, and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. You can take a tour of the wineries and indulge in wine-tasting sessions to experience the flavors firsthand. Also, the countryside is dotted with traditional farmhouses that offer farm-to-table dinners, where you can savor authentic Tuscan cuisine made from fresh, locally-sourced ingredients. Artistic Legacy Finally, the countryside of Tuscany has been an inspiration for many artists, writers, and creatives throughout history. You can see the reflection of the landscape in the works of famous painters like Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Botticelli. The rolling hills, the meandering rivers, and the ancient castles have all been immortalized in art. For any art lover, Tuscany's countryside is a treasure trove of inspiration and beauty. In conclusion, Tuscany's countryside is a magical place that captures the heart and soul of anyone who visits it. With its idyllic villages, bountiful nature, and artistic legacy, it's no wonder that it has become an iconic destination for photographers and travelers alike. Best Time to Visit Tuscany for Photographers Spring (March to May) Spring is undoubtedly the best time to visit Tuscany for photographers. The countryside is in full bloom with a splash of wildflowers, adding a vibrant touch to the already beautiful landscape. The weather is mild, making it perfect for outdoor photography. You can capture the famous rolling hills, vineyards, and olive groves in all their glory without worrying about the scorching summer heat. If you're interested in photographing the cherry blossom trees, then you must visit Tuscany in April, when the valleys are adorned with beautiful pink blossoms. Summer (June to August) Summer is a popular time to visit Tuscany, but the intense heat and crowds can make photography a bit challenging. However, the long days and blue skies make it an excellent time to capture the stunning sunflowers and lavender fields that bloom in July and August. If you want to click some beautiful pictures of the Tuscan countryside in the summer, you should plan your itinerary around sunrise and sunset to avoid the harsh midday light. Fall (September to November) Fall is the perfect time to visit Tuscany if you want to capture the beautiful autumn colors, from golden sunsets to red and orange foliage. September and October are also harvesting seasons, and you can photograph the grape harvest and olive picking activities that take place in the countryside. The mild weather and smaller crowds also make it an excellent time for photography. You can visit the picturesque hilltop towns and vineyards in the countryside without having to jostle for space with other tourists. Winter (December to February) Winter is the off-season in Tuscany, and you can experience the Tuscan countryside in its quiet, peaceful glory. However, the winter weather can be quite harsh, with snowfall being a common occurrence in the mountains. While there may not be much to photograph in terms of the lovely flora and fauna, you can still capture the winter charm of the countryside and the beautiful Tuscan architecture with a dusting of snow. In conclusion, the best time to visit Tuscany for photographers is undoubtedly the spring season. However, each season has its charm, and it depends on your interests and preferences. Regardless of the season, Tuscany promises an unforgettable photography experience that you'll cherish for a lifetime. Top Photography Spots in Tuscany Siena Siena is a hub of photography opportunities, with its historic center that dates back to the Middle Ages. Photograph the iconic Piazza del Campo, the Torre del Mangia, and the Duomo di Siena with its mesmerizing Romanesque-Gothic style architecture. The streets of Siena offer a wealth of opportunities to capture its charm, from its cobbled streets to the lively outdoor markets. San Gimignano The medieval town of San Gimignano is one of the most picturesque places in Tuscany, famed for its soaring towers that make for a perfect photo backdrop. The town's rustic charm and preserved architecture make for some stunning photographs. Capture its charming streets and alleys, hidden courtyards, and aged stone walls. Pienza Pienza is a UNESCO World Heritage site; charm drips from its cobbled streets. The town's beautifully designed Renaissance architecture offers plenty of opportunities for exploring its nooks and crannies. Don't miss the opportunity to capture its breathtaking panoramic views of Val d'Orcia, a gorgeous landscape peppered with hamlets and rolling hills. Montepulciano The medieval town of Montepulciano, known for its delicious wine culture, is a photographer's dreamland. The town's narrow lanes, ancient walls, and grand entrance gates offer excellent options for capture. Montepulciano presents excellent views of the surrounding countryside, making it a must-visit location for landscape and nature enthusiasts. Val d'Orcia Val d'Orcia, a rural region south of Siena, is a stunning location full of vineyards, picturesque hilltop towns, and ancient ruins draped in Tuscan sunsets. Every corner of Val d'Orcia presents dramatic views that would captivate the lens of any photographer. Whether you're after rugged scenery, rolling hills, or expansive fields of sunflowers, Val d'Orcia delivers. Essential Photography Gear for Tuscany Camera Body Invest in a good quality camera body with a high-resolution sensor. Whether you prefer a DSLR or mirrorless camera, make sure it is capable of producing high-quality images with accurate colors and good dynamic range. Lenses A wide-angle lens is a must-have for capturing the magnificent landscapes of Tuscany. Consider a 16-35mm or 24-70mm lens for a versatile range. Additionally, a telephoto lens such as a 70-200mm can help you get close to your subjects and capture details in the distance. Tripod A sturdy tripod can make all the difference in achieving sharp, stable shots. This is especially important during sunrise and sunset when light is low and exposure times are longer. Filters Neutral density filters can help you achieve longer exposure times, ideal for creating that dreamy and surreal effect in Tuscany's landscape. A polarizing filter can be used to darken skies, reduce glare and enhance colors. Extra batteries and memory cards Carry extra batteries and memory cards to ensure that you never run out of power or space while capturing the stunning beauty of Tuscany. Camera bag A comfortable camera bag with adequate space for all your gear is essential for keeping your equipment safe and secure while on the go. Look for a bag that is weather-resistant and easy to carry. Conclusion Investing in essential photography gear can take your photographs to new heights in Tuscany. A good camera body, lenses, tripod, filters, extra batteries and memory cards, and a comfortable bag are all vital components to capturing the breathtaking beauty of Tuscany. Tips for Photographing Tuscan Landscapes 1. Timing is Everything The best time to capture the beauty of Tuscan landscapes is during the golden hour - the hour after sunrise or before sunset - when the light is soft and warm. Avoid photographing during the middle of the day when the light is harsh and unflattering. It's also important to keep an eye on the weather forecast, as different weather conditions can dramatically change the mood of your photos. 2. Capture the Details While the sweeping landscapes are undeniably breathtaking, don't forget to capture the details that make Tuscany unique - the cypress trees, the vineyards, the olive groves, and the charming medieval towns. Look for interesting patterns, textures, and colors to add depth and interest to your photos. 3. Experiment with Composition Don't be afraid to experiment with different compositions to create unique and visually appealing photos. Try playing with different angles, perspectives, and focal lengths to create depth and add interest to your photos. Remember to always keep the rule of thirds in mind and look for leading lines to guide the viewer's eye through the photo. 4. Use a Polarizing Filter A polarizing filter can help reduce unwanted reflections and glare, making colors appear more vivid and saturate in your photos. It can also help enhance the contrast between the sky and clouds, adding drama to your landscape photos. 5. Bring the Right Equipment While it's possible to capture beautiful photos with just a smartphone, bringing a professional camera and lenses can help you capture more detail and create higher quality images. Additionally, it's always a good idea to bring a tripod to ensure your photos are sharp and steady. 6. Get Off the Beaten Path While the iconic landscapes of Tuscany are undeniably beautiful, don't be afraid to venture off the beaten path to discover hidden gems. Explore the smaller towns, the winding country roads, and the lesser-known viewpoints to find unique and unforgettable photo opportunities. By keeping these tips in mind, you'll be able to capture the true essence of Tuscany and create beautiful and memorable photos that will transport you back to this charming region for years to come. Editing Your Tuscan Photos: Enhancing Colors and Textures Step 1: Adjusting Exposure and Contrast Start by adjusting the exposure and contrast of your Tuscan photos. This step can instantly enhance the colors and textures in the image. Adjust the exposure to brighten the image and make it look more vibrant. The contrast can add depth to the photo. Be careful not to overdo it and make the image look oversaturated or unrealistic. Step 2: Enhancing Colors Tuscany is known for its beautiful and colorful landscapes. Enhance the colors in your photos to bring out the true beauty of what you captured. Use the saturation slider to increase the vibrant colors in the photo. You can also adjust the individual color channels in the photo to make specific colors more prominent. Step 3: Fine-Tuning the White Balance Correcting the white balance is crucial when it comes to enhancing colors and textures. Use the temperature and tint sliders to adjust the white balance to accurately represent the natural colors of Tuscan landscapes. Step 4: Sharpening and Clarity Enhancing the sharpness and clarity of your photos can make a significant difference in bringing out the textures in the image. Use the sharpening slider to bring out the finer details and adjust the clarity slider to help the textures pop. Step 5: Adding Filters Filters can add a unique touch and enhance the overall feel of your Tuscan photos. Experiment with different filters to create a specific mood or highlight specific colors in the image. Just be careful not to overdo it and make the photo look too edited. Editing your Tuscan photos can be a fun and rewarding experience. Following these steps will help enhance the natural colors and textures, bringing out the beauty of Tuscany in your photos. Read the full article

[mapleandgingeroatmeal]

On Dorian's Goodbye and the Inevitability of Tragedy

Dorian Storm was never going to get a happy ending. His fate was sealed from episode five, from the moment Cyrus appeared in that theater. You've probably heard before that tragedies work when everything that happens feels at once entirely inevitable and yet preventable at every step along the way. Well Robbie and Matt have managed to embody that principle masterfully with Dorian, and I really want to talk about that today.

First of all we have Dorian, the man who's alignment literally shifted from good to neutral out of the sheer power of his loyalty. It's one of the things that makes him such an earnest, loveable character, but it can also be a terrible flaw when taken to the extreme; Dorian is also the type to push aside his own needs and desires for his friend's sake. Dorian loves being a bard and supporting his friends, loves the life he has at the start of campaign three. He doesn't want to think about where he came from, who he was.

And then Cyrus enters the scene, and it becomes immediately obvious the direction things are headed. Dorian's brother is naive, arrogant, self-important. He is, even more then Dorian, the kind of person who's never had to solve his own problems, and he's in over his head. He comes to his brother for help, and if there's one thing about Dorian we know is that he is loyal to a fault. Cyrus seems to know it, too. It's entirely possible that he came to his brother because he knew, on some level, that Bronte wouldn't be able to refuse him, no matter how much it hurt what he'd built with The Bells. The very first thing we learn about Cyrus is that he makes terrible decisions, and that he doesn't seem to learn from his mistakes.

So with these two facts established the narrative barrels forward, with a million signs pointing to where we end up, a million small places Dorian could've saved himself. He prioritizes Cyrus over the group for the first time with the sending stones, and then more after that. He finds with the bounty hunter that the family resemblance is strong enough that while his brother is wanted, he is as well. And the whole time, he's bonding with The Bells. He feels comfortable, like himself, when he's around them. Chetney makes him a boat. Orym tucks a flower behind his ear. He loves these people, and there is nowhere and nobody he'd rather be. Then comes the ball.

Of course it makes the most sense for a Wyvernwind to attend the ball. Of course Cyrus will find the stupidest, most romanticized and heroic way to pay his debts off. Of course he'd refuse his brother's help. Of course, Dorian would never let his brother die. Every choice, every moment, is grounded in who these people are and the choices that have led them here. It was always going to happen this way. Dorian Storm would never willingly leave The Bells. Dorian Storm would never let his brother die. But Dorian himself? Dorian Storm died the moment he left the person he wanted to be wrinkled up at the bottom of Eshteross's closet. Dorian, who fought so hard to define himself beyond his family, who wanted no part of his past or his legacy, is ultimately felled by the same loyalty that makes him such a good man. The Wyvernwind brothers will travel together, but Dorian won't be with them. Now that the bard phase of his life is over, what reason does Cyrus have not to use his brother Bronte's name?

[stateofkate13]

?!Wanna watch some lesbians?!

I know how hard it can be to find representation on tv (even tho its getting better), so if you dont know what to watch next and you want to see some wlw scenes/plots - this list is for you

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

MOVIES:

-A Date for Mad Mary (2016)

-Ana e Vitória (2018)

-Aimee and Jaguar (1999)

-All about E (2015)

-Almost Adults (2016)

-Atomic Blonde (2017)

-AWOL (2016)

-Badhaai Do (2022)

-Becks (2017)

-Better Than Chocolate (1999)

-Below Her Mouth (2016)

-Bloomington (2010)

-Booksmart (2019)

-Blue is The Warmest Colour (2013) [La Vie d'Adèle]

-Brides To Be (2016)

-But I’m a Cheerleader (1999)

-Carmilla Movie (2017)

-Carol (2015)

-Colette (2018)

-Cloudburst (2011)

-D.E.B.S. (2004)

-Desert Hearts (1985)

-Disobiedience (2017)

-Elena Undone (2010)

-Elisa y Marcela (2019)

-Ek Ladki ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga (2019)

-Feel Good (2020)

-First Girl i Loved (2016)

-Girltrash: All Night Long (2013)

-Hearts Beat Loud (2018)

-Heartland (2017)

-I Can’t Think Straight (2007)

-Imagine Me&You (2005)

-It’s in The Water (1997)

-Kiss Me (2011) - [kiss myg]

-Kissing Jessica Stein (2001)

-La Luciernaga (2015) [The Firefly]

-Let It Snow (2019)

-Lez Bomb (2018)

-Lost and Delirious (2001)

-Loving Anabelle (2006)

-My Days of Mercy (2017)

-Nina's Heavenly Delights (2006)

-Pariah (2011)

-Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

-Rafiki (2018)

-Room in Rome (2010)

-Saving Face (2004)

-Season of Love (2019🎄)

-Summer Time (2015)  [La belle saison]

-Tell it To the Bees (2018)

-Thelma (2017)

-The Children's Hour (1961)

-The Half Of It (2020)

-The Favourite (2019)

-The Feels (2017)

-The Four-Faced Liar (2010)

-The Handmaiden (2016)

-The Incredible True Story of Two Girls in Love (1995)

-The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018)

-The Perfect Ending (2015)

-The Perfection (2018)

-The World Unseen (2007)

-Vita and Virginia (2018)

-When Night is Falling (1995)

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

TV SHOWS:

!!!!! 🖍 = an animated series !!!!!

-A leauge of their own (2022-)

-Amar a Muerte (2018-2019)

-Amar en Tiempos Revueltos (2005-)

-Amar es Para Siempre (2013-)

-🖍Arcane (2021-)

-Atypical (2017-2021)

-Bad Girls (1999-2006)

-Batwoman (2019-)

-Black Lightning (2018-2021)

-Black Mirror - San Junipero (2011-)

-Brooklyn Nine Nine (2013-)

-Buffy, The Vampire Slayer (1997-2003)

-Cable Girls (2017-)

-Charmed (2018-)

-Dead To Me (2019-2022)

-Dear White People (2017-)

-Degrassi: The Next Generation (2001-2015)

-Derry Girls (2018-)

-Dickinson (2019-)

-Euphoria (2019-)

-Everything Sucks (2018)

-Faking It (2014-2016)

-Fate:The Winx Saga (2021-)

-Feel Good (2020-)

-Fingersmith (2005)

-First Kill (2022-)

-Gentelmen Jack (2019-2022)

-Gentefied (2020-)

-Glee (2009-2015)

-Grey’s Anatomy (2005-)

-Gypsy (2017)

-🖍Harley Quinn (2019-)

-Home and Away (1988-)

-I am not okay with this (2020)

-Jane the Virgin (2014-2019)

-Killing Eve (2019-2022)

-Legacies(2018-2022)

-Legends of Tomorrow (2016-2022)

-Lip Service (2010-2012)

-Locked Up (2015-2019) [vis a vis]

-Lost Girl (2010-2015)

-Mindhunter (2017-)

-Motherland: Fort Salem (2020-)

-Never have I ever (2020-)

-One Day at a Time (2017-)

-Orange is The New Black (2013-2019)

-Orphan Black (2013-2017)

-Perdona Nuestros Pecados (2017-2018)

-Pretty Little Liars (2010-2017)

-Ratched (2020-)

-Riverdale (2017-)

-Runaways (2017-2019)

-Russian Doll (2019)

-Schloss Einstein - Staffel 23 (2019-2019)

-Sense8 (2015-2018)

-Sex Education (2019-)

-🖍She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018-2020)

-South of Nowhere (2005-2008)

-Supergirl (2015-2022)

-Skins (2007-2013)

-Stranger Things (2016-)

-🖍Steven Universe (2013-)

-Tales of The City (2018-)

-Teenage Bounty Hunters (2020)

-The 100 (2014-2020)

-The Guiding Light (1952-2009)

-The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

-The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020)

-The Hockey Girls (2019-2020) [Les de l'hoquei]

-The House of Flowers (2018-)

-The L Word (2004-2009)

-The L Word: Generation Q (2019-)

-The Morning Show (2019-)

-The Originals (2013-2018)

-The Other Love Story (2016-)

-The Shannara Chronicles (2016-2017)

-The Umbrella Academy (2019-)

-Tipping the Velvet (2002)

-Trinkets (2019-2020)

-Queer as Folk (2000-2005)

-You (2018-)

-You Me Her (2016-2020)

-Venice the Series (2009-)

-Vigil (2021)

-Warrior Nun (2020-)

-Wentworth (2013-)

-Wynnona Earp (2016-)

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

WEB SERIES:

-Anyone But Me 

-ANNE+

-All for One

-Barbelle

-BIFL the series

-Carmilla

-Control (Kontrola)

-Gal Pals

-Girls Like Magic

-Girltrash

-Her Story

-Last Life

-Pot Luck 

-RED

-The Other Love Story

-THE STRIPPER

-Same Same

-SKAM Espana 

-Starting From Now

-Stupid wife

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

YOUTUBERS:

-Alayna Joy

-Ally Hills

-Alissa and Sam

-Anna Campbell

-Amy Ordman

-BerkleyLovesTori

-Breane Williamson

-Cammie Scott

-Cristy Lawrance

-Drea and Ronnie

-Hannah Hart

-Hannah & Sadie

-Jessica Kellgren-Fozard

-Kale and Jess

-Karin and Skyler

-Keara Graves

-Kristen McKenzie

-Maria Lin

-Monica Nguyen

-Paige and Holly

-Rose and Rosie

-Sara and Rachel

-Sam and Alyssa

-Shannon Beverige

-Stevie Boebi

-Willow Faith

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

I’m gonna update the list (SEE THE PINNED POST ON MY DASH), so if you know any other title let me know!

and please REBLOG - you never know who needs it right now

------updated 10.10.2022------

[bugsims]

[laufire]

February Stuff

Published fanfic:

-fairy tale rules. Supernatural; Castiel/Sam. For Season of Drabbles, s14e15, humour. 300 words. Prompt: “Sam & Cas in that Stepford 1950s town from season 14. Cas  tries a variety of different ways to try and break Sam out of that spell, with each attempt growing more and more ludicrous. But the only thing that will break the spell is a kiss.” 

-Marcus Keane, Satanic Erotica Novelist. The Exorcist; Marcus/Tomás. For Seasons of Drabbles, crack. 600 words. My contribution to making priest/satanic erotica novelist the hot new trope in honour of the motherland xD

-pillow talk. Lost in Space; John/Maureen, discussions of other poly arrangements. For Season of Drabbles. 100 words.

-wedding bells. CW’s Nikita, Michael/Nikita. For Season of Drabbles, time loop. 100 words. Michael and Nikita’s attempt at a traditional wedding keeps getting interrupted.

-a matter of scales. Discworld, Sybil & dragons. For Season of Drabbles. 100 words. Sybil loves dragons, dragons love Sybil.

Writing progress:

I finished and submitted both fics for the Black Sails zine. And I advanced on the fics I want to post next month (mainly more chapters in the Belastiel AU, plus some others).

Excerpts:

-Excerpt from wings high over me’s second chapter. SPN, Bela/Castiel.

Edits:

-Carmilla (novella) aesthetic. Graphic.

-Gabrielle and Xena’s first meeting (Xena: Warrior Princess, s01e01). Gifset.

-Aneela and Kendry’s last moments (Killjoys, s05e10). Gifset.

-SPN Les Yay 1/? - Lori and Taylor in “Hook Man” (s01e07). Gifset.

-Ablah fulfills Lizzie’s last wish (Legacies, s01e10). Gifset.

-Nina/Lily (Black Swan). Gifset.

-June/Maureen (Lost in Space, series finale). Gifset.

-Hizzie + alternate worlds (Legacies). Gifset.

-SPN Les Yay 2/? - Jenny and Kate in “Dead Man’s Blood” (s01e20). Gifset.

-Octavia/Niylah + Octavia/Diyoza parallel (The 100, s6). Gifset.

-April/Sterling on the arcade (Teenage Bounty Hunters, s01e08). Gifset.

-Amanda/Nikita through the glass (CW’s Nikita, s02e18). Gifset.

-Eleanor/Theodora aesthetic (Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House). Graphic.

-SPN Les Yay 3/? - Jo and Theresa in “No Exit” (s02e06). Gifset.

-Tara/Willow (BTVS, Once More With Feeling). Gifset.

-Root/Shaw/The Machine, playing chicken (POI). Gifset.

-Kisa/Manola + bloodsharing (FDTD). Gifset.

-Mellie/Olivia (Scandal). Gifset.

-Amira/Orianna aesthetic (from @nectargrapes In Pursuit of Perfection).

-Laila/Lyra aesthetic gifset (from nectargrapes’ The Essence Of The Equinox).

-Eleanor/Max (Black Sails, s01e02). Graphic.

-Aline/Isabelle + merriam-webster definitions (Shadowhunters). Graphic.

-Rosita/Waverly + Six Words Stories (Wynonna Earp). Graphic.

-Finch/Josie + Troubled Birds (Legacies). Graphic.

-Jesse/Riley (Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles). Gifset.

---

FOR REFERENCE:

List of all my WIPs.

I’m mainly putting it here for whenever I post an ask meme about WIPs (although feel free to ask me questions about them whenever).

[lets-steal-an-archive]

Like an exhausted parent whose elaborate dinner plans have now been subbed out for glumly shoving Taco Bell into their children's waiting food holes, The CW has looked at its current scripted drama slate, shrugged, and given a "Yeah, fine, more of everything" to most of the stuff it was already making. Per Variety, the network has issued renewals notices this afternoon for a full dozen of its shows, including several that haven't even begun airing their currently commissioned seasons.

This bounty of televisual largesse comes after what has been a pretty weird television development season for just about everyone in the business, as COVID restrictions caused mass shutdowns in the 2020 schedule that forced plenty of the network's shows to hibernate until 2021. But now the thaw has come (barring the next major wave of infections, natch), and so The CW has announced that All American; Batwoman; Charmed; Legends Of Tomorrow; Dynasty; The Flash; In The Dark; Legacies; Nancy Drew; Riverdale; (deep breath); Roswell, New Mexico; and WaIker are all getting additional seasons on its schedule. (That includes shows like Legends and Roswell, which haven't actually come back yet from their long hiatuses.) The network also ordered extra episodes of WaIker and the upcoming Superman & Lois, which is set to premiere in February.

Network CEO Mark Pedowitz issued a statement on the renewals today, rather than opting for the more relatable choice of putting his head down on his desk and moaning that everyone involved is just too tired right now to think of new TV shows, okay?

[mythriteshah]

Angels’ Time

A mild wind blew over the jungles of the Bounty amidst a star-filled evening sky.  All around the Near East, there was movement: of sailors hauling their goods from their boats as they make port; merchant caravans preparing for a long voyage; sellswords barking orders to one another to secure the perimeter. 

Homes were being rebuilt; lives were being restored... and hope was being renewed.  The Final Days had hit Thavnair and Corvos the heaviest, and throughout the island chain were its people - sons and daughters of the Near East, brave and true - working together in harmony to achieve a better tomorrow.

Thanks to the efforts of some intrepid adventurers, the hidden treasure trove beneath the waves of the Bounty had finally been unearthed, bringing truth to legend.  Alzadaal’s Legacy was very much a reality, and the massive horde left behind by the Satrap of eld would prove instrumental in the creation of the orphanage that would be named after the selfless merchant who was among the first to be lost to the song of oblivion: Khalzahl.

The Higuri Regalia would also assist in this matter, their servants and Angels working tirelessly to better the lives of their fellow man and woman.  With their own share of funds gathered over the years, they would also contribute to restoration efforts at home and abroad.  Once their own tasks were done for the day, however, the Angels would all be brought over to the Main Branch Headquarters within Radz-at-Han, where they would gather by the doors that would lead to the bed chambers of Lord Thiji, who was actually told to retire early, lest his work consume and force him through the waning bells.

Before the maidservant entourage stood the Valide Sultan, Mimizo Higuri.  She was pacing the floor with short, dignified strides, her hands folded at the waist.  The Angels awaited her counsel, standing at ease before the mother of the Diamond Sultan...

“Good evening, beloved Angels,” she opened.

“Good evening, Valide Sultan,” the Angels simultaneously greeted back.  She gave a light chuckle and a dismissive wave of her hand, requesting the Angels to relax their posture.

“I wish to thank you all for coming at such short notice, as well as extend my gratitude for your continued service to the Higuri Regalia.  You have all brought prosperity, ingenuity, wisdom, Power, and Beauty wherever you went, and we have become the shining bastion of haute couture and generosity as a result.  But I did not summon you all here to simply shower you all with the praise you all so rightfully deserve...”

The Angels looked at each other, exchanging glares and murmurs before Lady Mimizo would continue.

“I have already informed my husband dearest and my son both: this entire sennight has been reserved for you all.  As you’ve been serving my beloved firstborn son for many winters, there are undoubtedly many thoughts dwelling on your minds, and to this end, I am affording you all the opportunity to speak your thoughts to him.  Lord Thiji is not allowed to voice his opinions whatsoever; he has agreed to this, and will do naught but listen and absorb all that you wish to say to him.  Thus we have dubbed this week as: Angels’ Time.”

The Angels’s eyes lit up and murmurs turned into excited chatter and nods before they would all bow before Mimizo.  She would bow in return in thanks to the maidservant entourage, and they would disperse soon after.

Lady Nyra would arrive following the briefing, perching herself upon Mimizo’s arm.  The majestic snow owl would receive a kiss upon the cheek before the Valide Sultan would walk away, humming a light, yet familiar tune that would cause the Traders’ symbol etched upon Nyra’s breast to glow...

(Credit and thanks to @bloodsworn-marshal for the creation of Lady Mimizo!)

[groovygravidgreatness]

Li Li and Daughters

Due to some deadly respiratory virus spreading around town, all ninjas were out of work. Li Li spent most of her time in the nude because she did not need the standard-issue leotard and all her normal clothes shrunk. After all, she grew. Like most mothers and surrogates, Li Li merely became a ninja and pregnant for the income. Now that her paycheck has been cut because the government valued their pensions over the productive worker, the hardworking mother of many was reduced to a stay at home mom. Gone was the iconic hair buns that she coveted dearly as they were replaced with long flowing locks of hair. 

  The beauty salon appeared to be the greatest casualty as, without skilled hands, Li-Li had long hair with hangs that covered her eyes. She merely sat around in the nude with her pregnant body getting greater and but getting meatier. She could easily pass for demon bait as they prefer her ripe and round enough to bang. She lost the ability to move around as her body became physically weaker due to lack of exercise and it became cumbersome realistically carry her enormous body.

   The eldest daughter of the family entered the compound wearing her casual clothes. Jun never liked the tight leotard supplied by the ninja academy and wondered how her pregnant mother managed to get around wearing the kunoichi bust and butt floss squeezing every inch over her meaty maternal body. Jun wore her hair down and dressed in bright sundress yet wore the same look of disinterest on her face. She tried walking past her big and bountiful mother. Although Li Li's physical body has grown so enormous that she cannot move without help, the Strongest Mother of the East retained her ability to sense spiritual energy. She can tell it was Jun because they share the same energy.

   "Where do you think you are going, Jun Joo Dee Hudie? Don't you know how to great your great gravid mom? Twas by my womb that I bore you with love and care!" declared Li Li. She may have lost her ability to move but Li Li's need for attention remained. Jun looked to the huge thing called her mom and said. "Good Evening Mu Qin Li Li Hudie, Womb of the Women's Ninja Squad!"

   Li Li's lips curved into a smile as she still got that respect and her facade broke to reveal a chuckle as she put those useless arms to good use and rubbed the sides of her bloated midsection. Li Li lost her self control and reverted to maternal instincts as she still had lots of hungry children nourishing her spirit energy to develop their own.  Li Li had enough body fat to last her till dinner and the future will have to wait till she gets a big meal. They'd fall asleep before they think of eating her layers of fast. The children sensed their mother's intent and retaliated with an all-out strike. They pummeled their mother. Jun frowned as she'd seen this happen many times before. As much as she hated Ninja Mom Li Li who was prim and proper, Stay at home mom Li Li appeared to be worse. Jun walked over to her mother and placed a hand close to the navel and offered it. Li Li moaned as she was nourished by many thru navel feeding. It felt like eating food through a straw and or a needle injecting her with nice fresh energy. Li Li basked her on the free energy meal and praised her daughter.

   "That's More Like It! If only your father and brother weren't scared of me!" Li Li said. She used her arms to pull Jun closer to the navel, apparently using an old trick to make them rubber-like to make Jun kiss the crown of her fertile jewel. "See this, it's going to be you in 5 years hoping and I will be as big and beautiful when it does happen. Big Sister Mei and Mother Hudie care more about making babies for family honor while Twin Sister Xi Xi cares more about happiness. I care more about legacies and dynasties. Little Ming's too young to know what it means to be a mom and your younger sister Yin Yin has her hands full!" Li Li smiles.

"Did You Call Mama!" A loud voice filled the room as a young-looking girl wearing a revealing republic dress and full of curves entered the room. She wore her hair in odango in loops with large bells in each of them to form fake buns. Jun did not like how Younger Sister Yin Yin always rushed to mom's side every her name is uttered. She frowns more when Yin Yin's hands started massaging her mother's breasts with skill and dexterity. Li Li smiles and pulls Jun over to the other side, using her own body as a wall between her firstborn and second-born daughters.

"No but thanks for the free breast massage now make good while Mama speaks with your big sister!" Li Li said. Jun noticed that her own mother's tone sounded sweet in private while almost saccharine in public. This excessive cuteness or need to be cute almost rubbed her the wrong way. Li Li looked to the Eldest Daughter of Whom she molded and Groomed to be her Successor. Li Li had a smile plastered on her face while Yin Yin gave her free massage.

"I want you to inherit my baby-making powers Jun Joo Dee Hudie. It should be an honor to inherit the family honor from a worthy successor!" Li Li spoke. Yin Yin poked her head high up to see Big Sister Jun. "What About Me Momma!?" Whined the Younger Sister. Li Li turned her head to eye Yin Yin's figure. She looked unimpressed by the slim and busty figure that her own daughter was going for. The mother frowned and used her elastic arm to reach around for butt grabbing. As expected, the youngest daughter jumped.

"Why did you grope your own daughter's butt, Momma!?" Cried Yin Yin. 

"You don't have the butt for the family honor. I can't resist my precious daughter being bloated out by hormones only to strain herself when she gives birth! Why do you think I made Megumi my star pupil!? She had the figure for it!" Li Li admitted. Jun rolled her eyes as she grew tired of Mother bragging about her pupil.  The Mother of Ninjas Smiled as she retracts her elastic arm in place. Jun and Yin Yin winced when they heard a bone crack in place

"Now, who wants to help Momma Up to the bathtub!?" 

Yin Yin and Jun looked at each other. How were they going to get this huge pregnant woman off those damned seats!? It felt like Li Li's gravity was sucking them in and pushing the couch closer to the ground! This was going to be a long evening!

[justm3h]

Plot - Triskaidekaphobia

Summary: Marco has lived many lives. Lives as a civilian, lives with the Marines, lives as a pirate and the smallest butterfly effect makes each adventure new. But each death has him waking up after eating the first fruit of his life.

Another chance, another life.

One more shot to make things right.

Characters: Marco the Phoenix, Monkey D. Garp, Bell-mere, Donquiote “Corazon” Rosicante, Coby, Gol D. Roger, Silvers Rayleigh, Shanks, Benn Beckman, Makino, Monkey D. Luffy, Edward Newgate, Thatch, Portgas D. Rouge, Portgas D. Ace, Sabo, Monkey D.Dragon, Buggy, Straw Hat Crew, Kureha, Nico Olvia, Marshall D. Teach, Trafalgar D. Water Law

Pairing: Rouge/Roger, slight Makino/Shanks but mostly Gen

1-8

The first life Marco lives is boring and normal. He passes peacefully, a respected but simple village doctor, flames flicker even as he’s eyes fall shut for the last time. Only for that not to be true, as he opens them once again to hands the size of a child and not an old man.

The second life he travels the South Blue. He wants to see what the sea has to offer him and he makes friends and learns so much. He dies this time by drowning, and decides he doesn’t like it very much.

The third time, he starts figuring things out. Each death has him wake up right after eating the worst tasting fruit of his life. He’s grown use to the blue flames that heal and the obsession with cinnamon but the healing is a gift enough.

Marco travels further, learning skills of a sailor. He enjoys navigating the most, for the stars are the only thing that seem to be consistent with every redo.

His third adventure ends, accidentally being eaten in the calm belt. Another mistake he swears to Never Make Again.

The fourth one comes and he realizes he needs to learn how to fight and joins the Marines.

He’s not very good at first, more often than not, he fumbles and fails and it stuck in a lower position for some time. He only hears later of the Summit War and even then it’s just boring news that doesn’t matter on the blues.

One drowning later and Marco becomes a Marine again on count 5. His ‘talent’ is noticed. He’s sent to the Grandline and trains with other fresh recruits. He is in awe as he catches sight of the admirals and of the legendary hero Garp. The Marines try to figure out what fruit he ate but have as much luck as he has in the past. He makes it as far as Captain before dying tragically protecting his men.

6 and 7 are much the same. Joins the Marines and is satisfied with the rank of Captain. He enjoys having the spunky Bell-mere under his tutelage til she is transferred and quit soon after. Marco enjoys seeing Rosicante grow from a brat he babysat to a fine Marine although still a walking disaster.

Marco always takes different posts and assignments, never wanting to have the confusion of knowing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from befriending a few of the same people over and over again, but those are just some binds he’s not willing to let go.

But 5 to 7 are also where Marco really starts to notice something wrong with the world. He never noticed on the Blues, too isolated from the Grandline and the Red to pay much mind to it.

There was corruption, Marines taking bribes or turning a blind eye to the pleadings of the people who begged for help. The admirals were bias, unable to get pasted their own convictions to just help.

It caused Bell-mere to leave and Rosicante’s death.

It hurt.

8 seems to hurt the most. He was put under the care of Garp. He learned so much about the Vice Admiral, Garp yelled about his brat grandkids and Fists of Love were a daily occurrence. Regardless of his violence, Garp was what the Marines should have been. Heroes. Marco could see it in the boy and his friend that Garp adopted, made all too clear when the pink haired boy jumped in front of a cannon.

He and Bogard would watch from a distance as the two chore boys trained. Fought for the right to be Marines. Bogard taught Helmeppo, the tall blond better with blades, while Marco taught Coby the basics of hand to hand til Garp took over their training.

Marco always made sure to patch the young men up at the end of the day, a doctors work never done, even after they picked a fight with Garp’s grandson.

“Dumb Brats,” he joking at Garp as he checks over Coby and Helmeppo after their fight.

Marco got a good look at Garp’s grandson, Monkey D. Luffy. He was much like his grandfather, even as they both fell asleep in the middle of their own fight.

But Marco hasn’t seen pirates like these since Roger, despite the Marine propaganda, his cabin boy Shanks, or Whitebeard. Considering the rookie pirate had Red-Haired Shanks’ old straw hat…. Who if all the praises Coby said were true, saved him and a whole town, was more hero than a pirate had the right to be.

Monkey D. Luffy who dreamed of being King of the Pirates. Well, Marco could admit to himself he wouldn’t mind seeing the boy become the second King.

Even if the crew couldn’t handle a few cannonballs from Garp at the moment.

Then Marineford. The stories he had heard in passing before, if he lived long enough to hear them, paled in comparison to the actual event.

It was a massacre. Garp fell and so did his grandson. Whitebeard died on his feet seeing his adopted son and blood son of Gol D. Roger perish under the executioner’s blade. And there impaled on a molten fist was Coby, the boy Garp hoped would continue his legacy.

Marco died, a screech echoing over the battlefield as he flew to attack the lava man, with ice and light ripping through his body.

9 and 1st Time Pirate

9 he wakes to wings not hands and realizes just exactly what the fruit did to him.

Marco does not join the Marines this time, preferring to not think about all the blood and death he still had nightmares about.

This time, he flies and travels. The seas no longer limit him and stars will always be his guide. He doesn’t tire but can just fly for what seems like forever.

The blond witnesses Gol D. Roger’s death, spotting the would be faces of many soon to be known names. It’s curious but Red Hair asks if he wants to join his crew.

“Why?”

“You look interesting!”

Needing something new and knowing full well what kind of pirate the young man is from endless rants from Garp, Marco accepts. Not like he has anything better to do.

It’s maybe the worst decision he’s ever made as the seemingly endless parties usually leave it up to him to keep them on course, unable to get drunk without the help of seastone.

He’s grateful when Benn joins, if not just to keep Shanks somewhat in line for a pirate. There are questions about his knowledge of the Marines and he makes no point to hide that he ‘quit’.

“Being a pirate suit you more?”

“Seems so Cap.”

If more pirates were like Red Hair, he ponders, watching the man make a fool of himself for a pretty green haired girl, then there wouldn’t been so many issues in the world.

Marco meets a young Monkey D. Luffy, still as mischievous as before, and laughs at the reaction Shanks has when he learns the kid he’s taken a shine to is related to Garp.

“He’s got his Grandfather’s smile.”

“I’m concerned how you know that, Marc.”

It goes much like canon, Luffy is kidnapped and is taken to the middle of the bay and Marco is actually the one who flys Shanks out there.

Marco has a first hand experience of watching Shanks lose his arm. He apologizes for not being faster but Shanks just smiles.

“He’s worth it.”

Shanks becomes Emperor, Marco and Benn both arguably first mate but Marco gets his first bounty poster.

“The Phoenix?”

“Pretty on the nose with that one.”

They have many clashes, with pirates and other Marines alike. Marco finds he enjoys the meetings with the man called Whitebeard the most. At worst, they have a fight but usually they are all too hungover by the time it gets to that.

The morning after a rare party between Shanks and Whitebeard, the air was full of the smell of breakfast and hint of something else. It made Marco pause his berated tairaid against Shanks’ stupidity and abruptly walks away. He followed the smell, leading him to the Moby Dicks kitchen where a man in a chefs suit was elbow deep in kneading bread. But the smell. He breathed it in barely noticing Shanks and Benn following.

The chef looks up and smiles.

“Hey! You’re on Shanks crew, right? I’m Thatch, head chef and 3rd commander! Nice to meet you… hey hello? You in there?”

Thatch looks confused as he holds up the cinnamon and Marco’s eyes follow. Left, right, up, down. Thatch eventually hands Marco a fresh roll and he literally coos with joy.

Shanks LOOSES it. Marco screeches, launching at Shanks with a kick. They run out of the kitchen and Thatch is just so confused and Benn is amused.

The Red Force is then on always stocked with Cinnamon and Thatch always gifts Marco with new cinnamon treats to try, a personal challenge of his.

Marineford comes again, Shanks having tried to prevent it but failed. It was hard to hear that Thatch had been killed but Marco keeps focused as they fight Kaido to make it in time to do anything.

By the time they arrive, it’s much the same nightmare as before. Garp survives but both his grandchildren have fallen, Whitebeard stands dead once again with much of his children at his feet. Shanks was able to save Coby, the boy just inches from having a face full of magma. The Marines scream victory but Marco can only feel hollow.

He’s been on both sides of that battlefield now and neither feel like a victory.

The Red Hair pirates help with gathering the dead, Marco keeping watch on everything as much as he can. Garp looks at him with such mistrust it hurts more than anything.

He offers his condolences, something he couldn’t offer a corpse previously. Garp is somber but accepts. The true sadness is when he gives Shanks the straw hat telling him that Luffy would have wanted him to have it.

It’s not til after the funerals that Marco sits with Shanks and Benn. He’s got a sea stone ring on as he drinks and drinks.

He tells them the truth. He’s old and seen this before and nothing changes. Death seems to be the only result.

They talk to him about the Marines, about the first time, about everything.

“I see these things and don’t know how to fix them. All the paths seem to lead to that blasted war.”

Benn looks at him, “Have you really tried?”

Marco stares into his drink. Has he? He’s taken different roads but never really did much to change things did he?

The phoenix finds new determined and confidence in the faith that both of them have in him to fix things. They won’t remember him, no one does, but they were proud to call him nakama for all these years.

“If you ever need us, find us again, tell us something that only we would know and a bottle of booze. We’ll drink together again.” Shanks tells him before stabbing Marco through the heart.

10 and the Guardian

10 and Marco awakes on a mission. He grows just old enough to be accepted as a cabin boy and flies. Flies far, far away from his home to the Grand line. Where he find the Roger pirates, a budding crew well on their way to greatness. He learns from the best, gaining first hand experience on why the Pirate King was so formidable.

Haki is a well worth nightmare to learn from two of its greatest users. Even if it meant that he had to babysit a younger and somehow even more reckless Shanks and fellow cabin boy Buggy.

Marco watches with a whole new level of sadness at Roger’s passing. Shanks again asks for him to join his crew but Marco declines stating that he’s going to travel for a bit and figure out where life takes him.

Where it ends up taking him, is more preset than he would have Shanks believe. He follows Garp to a small island in the South blue where he see Rouge give birth to the little boy named Ace.

Garp confronts the man but Marco has kept his powers a secret from the Marines this time, a fall back for if things got dicey. He follows Garp, bird shaped so know no one is the wiser.

He spends years watching over the boy. Raising him in ways that Garp couldn’t. He’s there for when Garp brings Luffy to the town for Makino to care for. He watches over these boys that are so, so important.

And he meets Shanks again when the Red Hair Pirates come to town.

Marco lets Shanks meet Luffy and pulls him aside to take a walk. They walk to the forest where Shanks feels eyes watching. Marco remains calm and jovial even as two young boys attack him with metal pipes.

He easily defeats the two and leaves Shanks stunned for once. He watches as both brats yell at Marco for beating them again as Marco scolds them right back for their poor technique.

The tall blond introduces the two brats as Ace and Sabo, his charges shared under Garp.

“Garp?! That old fart?!”

“Hey! Don’t you call gramps an old fart, dye job!”

“What did you just call me brat?!”

Shanks and Ace bicker with each other as Marco and Sabo watch amused.

Shanks spends most of the walk back grumbling about pain in the ass kids.

“He takes after Roger but I see more of Rouge in him.”

“Ugh he’s just as stubborn as the Cap.. tain.” Shanks pauses… and stares at Marco then back at the forest and the back at Marco. “He- That’s?!”

“You have to swear never to speak of this Shanks… Garp and I have protected him for this long. I would hate to think we failed because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Never. For the Captain and Rouge’s son never…. tell me more about him Marco.”

“Let’s go talk over drinks.”

Marco still enjoys getting a shocked face out of Shanks.

For the whole year he’s in the East Blue, he splits his time between Luffy and the two boys on the mountain.

Shanks shares stories of his time as a cabin boy on Roger’s crew, which causes Ace to get mad but then he’s pacified when hearing other tales of his mother.

Ace doesn’t hate his father quite as much this time but still has enough of a stigma to still be angry with him.

But canon has a way of happening and Shanks once again loses an arm for Luffy. Marco watches with sadness knowing his friend will be sailing from the Blue permanently. He bids them a safe journey and for Benn to keep his sanity. Shanks just laugh and they share a hug.

Garp returns, furious that Marco lets his brat grandson be influenced by that damn Red Hair. Marco just shrugs, knowing full well if Garp meant it he would have come back sooner. News of Red Hair being in the East Blue wasn’t hard to find, Marco could clearly remember Garp complaining about it while he was in the Marines. The Phoenix does inform Garp that Shanks knows about Ace and the grandfather sighs.

“He’s got his mother’s freckles as clear as day.”

“Suits him.”

“Aye.”

Luffy befriends the boys who become brothers then canon canon canon. Marco can only do so much good saving Ace and Dudan, and then going to search for Sabo. He finds the boy on a ship in a coma in the hands of…

“Ah, hello Dragon.”

The two talk, Marco explaining who the boy is and his… situation. Marco holds off on moving the boy till he wakes, his injuries far too severe to move him right away.

So Dragon and Marco talk. Marco is kind enough to share stories of Luffy growing up, something the father smiles at. It’s a peace offering.

Sabo awakens with amnesia. He reacts poorly to going home but seems to take pause at the mention of brothers.

“Ace? Luffy?”

“Yes. Those are their names.”

“I have brothers.”

Marco and Sabo go back home, with Dragon leaving Marco with his den den number in case there’s something Garp can’t handle. Ace and Luffy barely let Sabo out of their sight for days but help the boy relearn things and heal.

Years pass and both Ace and Sabo are the age to set sail. Marco stays with Luffy as they watch the boy’s two older brother sail away together. Marco tells them to watch each others backs and keep their wits.

“More than anything stay safe, stay alive.”

“You worry too much Marc, we’ll be fine.“

"I’ll keep him out of trouble Marco.”

“Hey!“

There Marco remains hearing about the two’s adventures with brief updates via the mail. He’s pleased to see both have taken up with Whitebeard. The old man would keep the boys safe.

The day Luffy sets out, Marco goes with him. Luffy pouts but he’s pleased that he’ll have some of his family with him. Marco flies high above enjoying the sun and completely misses the whirlpool until it’s too late. He can only watch as Luffy bobs in the water stuck in a barrel.

Just great.

East Blue basically happens with a plus one Marco. He tries to stay out of the way as much as possible, he’s not Luffy’s crew, these aren’t his fights but seeing all these familiar faces is both nice and painful.

He watches Coby’s beginning and the strength he got from Luffy plus how much Helmeppo changed.

Seeing Buggy, Roger’s other cabin boy, again was interesting.

"Buggy!”

“Oh damn, a flashy idiot from the past.”

“You know this clown?!”

“We were part of the same crew.”

“Did he have the nose then too?”

“ah… ”

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

They travel from one island to the next, picking up a first mate, navigator, and then a sharpshooter. Marco was sad to hear about Usopp’s mother passing, he hadn’t been aware of her death while still traveling with Shanks and as a doctor, it was probably something he could have prevented.

Marco left the Baratie early, flying after Nami with the other boat following his lead.

Marco pats Luffy on the head before he goes, “Stay safe.”

“Yosh~!” He nods at Hawkeye and flys off.

Learning exactly how Bell-mere passed was hard. She died like a hero protecting her girls and he could respect that after now raising so many kids, so many times, himself.

Still he honors Luffy’s claim of dibs but does destroy the Marine ships nearby, earning his bounty to raise once again.

Lougetown was interesting. He has no wish to see the site where Roger died, he’s seen it too many times as is and walks towards a familiar presence on the other side of town. He finds Dragon in a hole in the wall pub and they have drinks.

Small talk is exchanged and the leader of the revolutionary army has some good gossip… and some bad.

“Ace and Sabo have been seen leaving the new world for paradise… its said they are tracking someone named Teach…”

“Damn…”

Their talk is cut short when the wind picks up from a storm rolling in… and a person barges in yelling about an execution in the square.

“Looks like your son found trouble again. Does he get that from you or his mother?”

“No comment.”

Marco rushes ahead, allowing Dragon to slip away into the shadows. He doesn’t do much but does strike some more fear of god into Buggy for messing with his chick.

“I FORGOT HOW PROTECTIVE YOU GET JEEZ.”

They escape with a shared nod between Dragon and Marco.

When they start sharing their dreams on the way up reverse mountain, Marco has a vague one to share “To prevent the future.”

Que the beginning of the Alabasta arc. Past knowledge has always been limited when it comes to Luffy’s journey. It was filled with misinformation and other hole so he was honestly not expecting for there to be a GIANT WHALE. Oh, hi Crocus.

“You know this flower?”

“Reluctantly, yoi.”

“Brat!”

“My name is Crocus, the lighthouse keeper of Twin Capes. I’m 71 years old, a Gemini and type AB blood.”

“ YOU’RE A CAPRICORN YOI.”

They sail away from the capes, experiencing the strange weather of the Grandline for the first time. “It feels like coming home.” The Blues no longer felt quite the home, like the Grandline.

They arrive at Whiskey Peak and Marco is instantly suspicious. He joins the drinking with merry joy. They could try to get him drunk all they wanted but even with a seastone ring, he’s partied with Roger, Shanks and Whitebeard. This was nothing.

He fake passes out with Nami and Zoro, both having caught on to the plot.

Baroque Works reveals themselves and Marco fights the Millions. They are weak even by Grandline standards but their numbers prove to be the most annoying.

As Vivi explains what’s happening to her country and Mr.0 being Crocodile things are starting to become clear on how the Navy originally covered the whole mess up.

Little Garden is basically identical expect Marco is with Sanji as most of this goes down. So he’s not involved with any of it.

When Nami comes down sick, Marco tries to cure her but is unfamiliar with her illness. His memory reminds him of a long since wiped out Disease that it could be but he doesn’t have the ingredients. His flames help keep her fever down but are unable to do much else.

When Marco isn’t looking after Nami, he’s taken over navigation getting them safely to Drum… Mostly, til this hippo gets on deck. Marco has the sick satisfaction of seeing Luffy send the little gremlin flying for eating a chunk of Merry.

Marco would fly Nami all the way to the top but its too snowy and windy for him to make the flight safely with a passenger, especially one as sick as she was. He joins Luffy and Sanji in carrying her up to the top, the cold not really an issue. Luffy tries to fight him on it but Marco hits him on the head with his own Fist of Love.

“She’s Nakama, Luffy. I’m going, yoi.”

“…Fine.”

Marco is the one to carry Sanji to the top while Luffy still has Nami. He’s exhausted but awake when Chopper finds them by the cliff. He heals naturally, bundled up in a blanket by a fire. He hears Dr. Kureha’s story about Chopper and the island, casually wondering if it would have been the same for him had he known from the beginning he could shift into a flaming bird.

Wapol’s arrival at the castle is unwelcomed in his opinion and short lasting at least. He, as always, stays out of the fight, but assists the Doctor in keeping Sanji out of it as well.

lucky:i like how he’s present but not changing things

Wapol is defeated giving Kureha and Marco a chance to chat. It turns into this and that, the will of D., and…

“Your eyes look old.”

“I bet.”

“How many cycles have you gone through, Phoenix?“

”…what?“

"Rebirths? Is that what you call it? Bah. no matter… not everyone can age as gracefully as me.”

She admits that she read about it once briefly in an old medical tomb. A previous user went insane on their 13th rebirth.

“I’m on my 10th, yoi. I don’t even know why it keeps happening.”

“Well you might want to figure that one out soon.”

“Any hints?”

“The book mention they went crazy and burned to ash, nothing about a cure.”

“Fantastic.”

They leave, both merry and somber. Marco won’t abandon Luffy to go hunt for a solution he may not even find.

So the Strawhat crew is finally almost to Alabasta. Mr.2 doesn’t get Marco’s face cause he was in bird form looking down on the shenanigans.

The dock and Marco feels the two familiar presences with a large smile. They meet back up with Ace first then Sabo who was spying as Ace got into trouble with Smoker.

Luffy introduces his two brothers much to the crews shock. Two Whitebeard pirates and they are Luffy’s brothers?! Marco laughs glad to have his boys back in one place if not just for a bit.

Ace and Sabo inform him they’ve been tracking a traitor named Teach. Marco actually pulls them both aside and tells them to be careful and don’t underestimate him.

“Do you know something Marc?”

“…I don’t like this. If he’s underhanded enough to stab a crewmate, who knows what else he has planned.”

“We’ll be careful.”

They travel across the sand and dunes, Marco switching between flight and walking. The heat is aggravating but manageable.

They seem to be on a wild goose chase when the rebel army moved and the rain base is also a dead end. They race to stop Crocodile, Luffy and he crew taking care of the fights while Marco flies the bomb into the middle of the sky to explode.

They rest and recover, Marco getting scolded for once for his recklessness, and finally set sail on Merry on to discover a new crew mate.

Marco isn’t sure what to think about Nico Robin. But she doesn’t seem to have any ill intentions so he accepts her easily enough.

When the log post points up to a sky island, Marco offers to fly up and set it so they can just continue on but Luffy pouts at him, rejecting his proposal to no one’s surprise.

Marco stays on the ship at Mock town, avoiding the encounter with Blackbeard and his crew.

The Skypedia arc goes as well as expected. Marco briefly explains the basics of Haki as Enel tries to strike them again and again with lightning.

Luffy wins, Marco comments on Enel’s poor luck of finding the one man in all the seas immune to his attacks.

Marco can tell something is wrong with Merry. At night he can hear a hammer tapping away. His worst fears are confirmed at Water 7.

The Phoenix can only watch as the crew learns of Merry broken keel and then of Luffy’s fight with Usopp. He can’t condone Usopp’s behavior but understands why the long nose felt so deeply about it.

Because he going to miss Merry too.

Things are only further complicated when Robin leaves along with the arrival of CP9. In his lives, Marco never encountered the Marines spies but had heard enough about them to realize they were bad news. With the reveal of the blueprints for Pluton, Marco is on high alert.

Marco follows the escaping CP9 with the captured Franky and Usopp, flying high above to not be seen.

The crew is all reunited as they approach Enies Lobby. It’s through his travels, Marco has learned a great deal of the corruption of the Marines, but hearing of the truth for the buster call on Robin’s home is sickening.

One by one, the Straw Hats beat CP9, Marco taking care of many of the minions running around the place.

As the buster call arrives, Marco destroys many of the Marine ships until Luffy defeats Lucci. The crew escapes on Merry, Marco watching from the sky’s over head. Even he can’t help but cry when they give her a funeral by fire.

Marco is elated seeing Garp, Coby and Helmeppo again. It’s on friendly terms for the first time since he had been a Marine and he missed their shenanigans. Luffy’s father is no surprise to him and Garp calls him out, Marco admitting he’s met him before.

“Damn annoying brat.”

They set sail on the new Thousand Sunny, Marco knocking away some of Garps cannonballs. Somethings never change.

Thriller Bark is interesting, Marco had heard of Moriah’s island ship but had never seen it and now was wishing he never had the chance. His shadow was never personal stolen from him, Haki keeping it safe from Moriah’s grubby hands.

Brook is about the closest thing Marco has ever seen to his own rebirth powers but quickly discovers that’s not quite right as he could only do it once and he never looped.

Still Marco can’t help but sympathize that the skeleton spent so long by himself.

For all their attempts, the one to finally take down Oars is Marco. He had waited and watched and seen them give it their all but the truth is clear. They can’t quite manage.

But he can.

Still the first time in a while he’s been able to let loose, becoming far too lax this loop to have any time to fight. But Oars falls and Marco feels refreshed.

He worries as Luffy takes so much damage from Moriah and the with the arrival of Kuma he has to step in. Marco is the one to take all of Luffy’s damage instead of Zoro. He knocked both Sanji and Zoro out to do it. Kuma looks at the fallen young men and then at Marco who just smiles.

“You’ve helped raise Dragon’s son into a fine man with a good crew.”

“He did that all by himself, yoi.”

Marco awakens to the worried looks of the Straw Hat crew, all wondering what happened.

He smiles and says it was nothing as both Sanji and Zoro look at him blankly, the area covered in his blood. They can be mad at him all they want, he’d make the same choice every time.

They sail to Sabody and Marco ditches the crew at Shakky’s bar, talking with her over drinks for a bit. He’s informed that Ace and Sabo were not as careful as he had hoped, they were captured and sent to Impel Down.

“Damn those brats. I warned them.”

“It gets worse Marco-kun. Ace has been scheduled for execution.”

“Of course he has.”

Marco is still at Shakky’s when the Straw Hats and Ray return.

“Welcome back Ray-san.”

“Ah Marco! Been a while!”

It’s revealed that Marco was also on Roger’s crew along with Ray much to the shock of everyone, including Luffy.

“How was I supposed to know?!”

“I’ve told you enough stories that you should have figured it out, yoi.”

The crew has to make a run for it as they are outclassed and outnumbered by gathering Marine forces. Between Kuma, Pacificas, and the Admiral Kizaru, they stood no chance.

Marco tries to protect the crew from Kuma but fails as he too is blasted away, unable to break out of the paw bubble.

Marco is sent to the Red Force to the shock of its crew. He’s fucking furious, fighting Kaido and flying as fast as he can directly to Marineford but arrives too late.

Now not only were Ace and Luffy dead, but Sabo as well. Marco collapses in grief, dying as magma melts him.

So ends loop 10, probably the harshest yet on his poor heart.

11 and Canon at last

Marco is at a loss for what to do at the start of 11. It feels like he’s missing something and can’t quite figure out what.

He travels to the not yet destroyed island of Ohara, still known for its vast knowledge and thousands of books.

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to find a single one on helping him. Marco had located the medical book Kureha mentioned but it listed more of what happened should he fail than succeed. Doomed to ash, it seemed was his fate.

While there, he befriends a woman named Olivia, now knowing that this woman was Robin’s mother.

They talk only a handful of times before he departs, but he warns her that Ohara was already suspected to be researching the void century and to be careful.

He flies to Roger, the man still young and not yet a pirate. Roger humors Marco as he asks questions, generally amusing as the boy, still a boy, takes a small comfort in huddling into the man’s side.

“I don’t know how to save them, yoi. Every time I try, they die worse than the last.”

“Maybe it’s not about saving them, but giving them the best chance at survival?”

“What Ray said! I know I’d give up everything to save my crew!”

Rayleigh offers that if what he’s tried so far didn’t work, maybe he could try something else. Marco thinks and there’s one crew directly involved he hasn’t tried yet. He thanks the two and promises they’ll meet again someday and flys to find a young Whitebeard.

Marco joins Whitebeard’s crew, watches as it grows from a handful of men to multiple divisions. It’s hard to call him Pops, having been enemies and only sometimes allies, but Newgate is just as stubborn as Roger in many cases and looks so proud the first time the name slips from his mouth.

He never fights against Roger and his crew, usually brushing past the bewildered pirates with a bottle split between him and Ray, even if he has to deal with the ‘you’re too young for drinking’ comments.

Marco is promoted to first mate and is stunned as that spot has always been Diamond Jozu’s position. But the crew voted and they trust him and he’s their big brother. It makes Marco feel warm.

Marco is the one to recruit Thatch, young and bright not yet with his iconic hairstyle. But his cooking is just what they need on a growing crew and Thatch thrives.

Life continues, and things come to pass just like before. Roger dies and Marco sees first hand the decline of Whitebeard. The realization time is killing his old Captain’s rival is hard, not even his flames can heal old age.

He probably enjoys the fights with Shanks crew the most because he knows what they want, a good drink and maybe a fight. As Pops and Shanks yell and clash he walks up to Benn as offers him a drink and a safe place to watch from. He’ll take every chance he gets to enjoy the company of his friends before its slips away.

It’s been years but it also passed in a blink of an eye as reports of Jinbe fighting an upcoming rookie reaches the deck of the Moby Dick. Marco lets out a breath. Ace.

Marco never saw how Pops took one look at this brat and wanted him on his crew.

Never saw how Thatch’s eyes lit up as Ace snapped back sarcastically and knew he found something fun.

Never saw how the crew slowly adopted this angry child as their own and he gradually accepted them too.

Never saw how Luffy’s first bounty poster made his whole world and how it was all torn down when one of his own division kills Thatch.

Now Marco sees how the once happy family fell, all because of one devil fruit. They only later identify it as the Dark Dark fruit, and reading the far too short description of its powers, leaves Marco wondering what other secrets it had.

So we have canon, Ace goes after Teach despite Marco’s warnings and pleas. He does and Marco can only mentally prepare himself for the worst. Shanks distracts Kaido as they head to war. It’s planned a bit differently than he’s seen it in the past, but that’s what past knowledge gets you.

He goes to war like canon and the war ends like canon. Ace and Pops are dead but Luffy escaped with the help of the up and coming supernova, Trafalgar Law.

It feels like a fever dream as Marco stands in front of the two graves of Ace and Pops, shoulder to shoulder with Shanks once again.

“I could use a drink.”

“Get me a seastone ring and I’ll give you a story too.”

Marco and Shanks drink in quiet in the Captain’s room on the Red Force. It looks nearly identical to the times when he’s been on the crew, even has his wanted poster on the wall.

“Why am I on your walls, Shanks? Trying to get me to join more than just your crew?”

“You know, I put it up when I was smashed and never felt like taking it down. Seemed to belong there.”

“You don’t say.”

They drink and drink til bottles litter the floor. Marco is the only one still going, drinking and talking about everything. Shanks slowed when the bird mentioned his multiple pasts and stopped when Marco said they had once been nakama. It was sobering and he started comforting the man when the tears got to be too much.

“I got so close Shanks. I only have one try left, yoi.”

“Sounds like you got close this time Marc… just… whatever you do next time, do what you want. Make the changes that matter to you.”

Marco waits til Shanks is asleep before taking a nearby knife and plunging it into his heart.

Triskaidekaphobia

12 and one sane life left, Marco awakens on a mission. If this is going to be his last chance… then he’s going to make sure all the people he cares about survive.

He joins Edward Newgate as the very first member of his new crew, easily calling the older man ‘Pops’ and man decides he likes the sound of that.

There’s nothing he can do for Roger, his illness incurable even to his healing blue flames (it was something he tried very early on), but before the man’s death, they drink and Marco tells him all sorts of stories about a boy named Ace and his brothers. Roger laughs till he cries.

“You know something Phoenix, if I ever had a son, he would be named Ace.”

“It’s a good name.”

“It really is.”

He’s sure Roger realizes the truth in the end, telling the Phoenix to look after him and his mother for him.

It took some planing and a lot of luck but after Roger’s execution Marco was able to lead Garp to Rouge faster than previously. It took secret letters and a few other bribes but the Marine was able to smuggle the woman off Baterilla, taking her and the baby she carried to the East Blue where she would be safe.

Marco handled the business on Ohara personally, but when Olivia failed to listen to his warnings, he knocked her out. Shoving her at Saul and Robin, the group escaped the Buster Call but were still tracked by the government for years to come.

Years later, he arrives in the North Blue just in time to save his old ward from several gunshot wounds, helping him and the crying boy to the next town over.

He sends money and a letter to Bell-mere telling her she’s worth more to her girls alive than dead.

Marco clears Tom’s name before Spandam can kill him, Cutty Flam is still presumed dead after attempting to stop the sea train.

The Phoenix sends medicine to Usopp’s mother and prevents the death of Chopper’s mentor Hiluluk.

Marco easily befriends Ace, welcoming him into the new crew. He saves Thatch from death, but for all his careful planning Teach still escapes.

With the war still on, Marco plots and toils.

Upon Shanks’ visit he has both crews agree to be close at hand incase something goes wrong, which it will and does.

Completely cuts the whole confrontation between the two captains having seen it too many times.

“None of us have time for your squabbling, not our crews or Ace, yoi.”

Hearing of the execution, Marco sends out orders to all their allies and just one more.

He calls a number he had memorized long ago. It didn’t pick up the first ring or even the second but on the third…

“Hello Dragon.”

It’s all set as Marco stands on the Moby in the middle of Marineford. He’s done all he could in planning for this.

He watches as Luffy predictable falls from the sky, challenging anyone who dare stands in his way. He watches as the Marines pull out all their tricks to stop Whitebeard. He watches and waits and there.

Ace’s true weakness that he was always too kind, Marco thought as the fire man would not let the taunt go. He stops and that’s all the chance Akainu needed. The admiral attacks but Akainu’s fist impaled not Ace but him. There was a just hiss as flames tried to heal, gasps of Ace and Luffy watched in horror.

“Run, damn brats.”

Marco falls but it’s the first time he’s satisfied. He laughs and fixes a stare at Blackbeard.

“It will never be your age.”

The Phoenix lives and dies in cycles. It brings the dawn, the coming of a new time.

Marco hopes that with his death, it will be their age, Luffy’s or Ace’s or Sabo’s. That’s what he wishes to see. Them to live, them to be free.

Broken Hourglass

Marco awakens to what he assumes with be 13, where he will slowly go mad and lose all sense of reality till he turns to ash.

Instead he’s surrounded by crying faces.

“What?”

“You big feathered idiot!” Cried Thatch rubbing at his face, attempting to hide flowing tears. “What were you thinking?!”

“Wh-“

“I think we all know he wasn’t thinking anything good.” Answered Shanks appearing with a grin just in eyesight.

Marco took the moment to get good look at all the faces surrounding him. There were his boys, Luffy, Ace, and an all grown up Sabo just as much hugging each other as they were to clutching on to his sash.

There was a tall blond man in a pink hat crying next to a much smaller boy with pink hair, a man with a spotted hat giving them awkward comforting pats on the back.

Pops was over to the side with Garp and Rayleigh, the old guard watching over them.

Marco sat up, noticing no hole in his chest and that they were no longer on Marineford. “What happened, yoi?”

“You kinda exploded. Sent Akainu flying back and the battle almost continued if it wasn’t for pinky here. We thought you were dead till the ashes came together and there you were Marc, bird form and all.”

Marco gulped looking at Shanks. “M-Marc?”

“Yeah. We all remember. Some of it? Most of it? Ehhh how did you ever keep it all straight???”

Marco laughs and laughs. Because no one died and that mattered more than anything.

Epilogue

Bell-mare remembers and sees the note and is absolutely gonna punch him when she gets the chance.