nyla here asking this from my main account buuuut have you eaten a devil fruit? or did you decide you enjoy not being immediately ko'd by water?
Def not LMFAOOOOO for a few reasons,,,,,, one being realistically I am just not the kinda person who Would (bc I love the ocean yes but more importantly I would Worry Way Too Much LOL I simply do not want to have to worry abt devil fruit issues I fear) but the other being thematically shanks just. Doesn’t have devil fruit users on his main crew so I don’t like breaking that pfft
I do get proficient at using haki tho!!! It’s pretty heavily hinted at imo that the red-haired pirates have insane haki skills (not even counting Shanks who is easily top five in the world at least) so I kinda stumble into the greatest team of haki tutors on the ocean 🫣 I do not. Get anywhere near their level I’m afraid even in the one piece universe I do not see myself being a Good Fighter™ but I can certainly hold my own against the average New World marine and more importantly have good enough observation haki to know how to Avoid most fights LOL. I think they probably gift me a pistol (or maybe two?) and Shanks gets me a dagger in case of emergencies; in general if I’m ever in a fight the strategy is “hold off until someone (probably Beckman) shows up to save my sorry ass” KDNDKSNKDNE which. Typically works out fine they r not the type to run into skirmishes at random 🙂↕️🙂↕️ for stuff like that meeting w whitebeard or showing up at marineford I stay on the ship or get dropped off at a nearby island for safety…
5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?
answered here but also i would love to write a die fic. i dont think i ever will but i wish i would
14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?
i do think crude and graceless would make for a funny comic and would benefit from like. visuals perhaps too
19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.
Cissie looks at her with a knowing smile. It's almost as annoying as Rose's grin is. “Dude, you're just into her.”
Cassie swallows her beer wrong and chokes. Cissie, her evil best friend, laughs at her wildly. She's enjoying this way too much.
“Rose Wilson?” she yells, voice going high and squeaky. Cissie laughs. It's a sharp, air-splitting sound. “Fuck you—no way. No way. You're drunk.”
Still cackling, Cissie shakes her head. “I do not have to be drunk to notice how hot she makes you.”
And that's—alright. When she puts it like that, it almost resonates. That was the point, wasn't it? Rose's touches made her feel something; Cassie likes being touched. She needs it. It's a deeply embarrassing thing to realize about herself. She's never felt this lonely since… she doesn't know. There have been times when she felt alone, but this is a different sort of feeling, this certainty that no one is going to want to touch her ever again. That she's alone in feeling it, just her and her dry skin.
where is Max at after that 20y timeskip in the first tlou episode?
max is in the field so to speak, leading the attack on the qz that day! it’s obviously.. a massive flop, leading to more casualties on their side than on fedra’s, which lands her in hot water with marlene. max makes it out physically unharmed, though, so like… points for that.
i’ve actually written (as in i wrote this in 2020 and haven’t looked at it since) that first day encounter in the context of the game, and it that tickles your fancy i’m slapping it below a readmore!
Marlene’s orders were clear: make some noise, keep everyone busy for a while. Robert wasn’t easy to find, and she needed to be able to move through the city freely. Max sat on a rooftop, scope trained on Checkpoint 5. Soldiers milled around, too immersed in their own conversations to pay their surroundings too much mind. They were getting lazy, a little too secure in their own abilities.
Good.
Right on cue, the truck rolled up. Max held her breath as it approached the checkpoint. A soldier stepped up, calling out to the driver. As they spoke, her gaze drifted to the truck itself, stretching to try and get a view of the bomb strapped underneath. Getting it there hadn’t been easy, and letting that effort go in vain if it had fallen off wasn’t an option.
They needed it to make it through the gate, and luck hadn’t been on their side. Just last week they’d lost more men, lined up and shot in the street like dogs. Good people, put down for not falling in line. Max’s grip on her rifle tightened as she pictured their faces. Stevens had two daughters. Murphy’s wife was sick and depended on her to live.
Cool it, Tyler.
She heard Marlene’s voice in the back of her head, loud and clear over the rumble of nearby engines. It was a reminder she gave often, though it felt more like condescension than genuine concern these days.
Not the time, Max.
Her own voice came, pushing Marlene away long enough to direct her attention back to the truck. After what felt like an eternity, the attending soldier took a step back, waving the truck through. Max exhaled, relief flooding her veins.
Wait.
Those two. They weren’t soldiers.
A man and a woman lingered near the gate, clearly dressed in civilian clothing. Max’s stomach dropped as they were waved through. Civilian casualties weren’t part of the plan. Her hand flew to her radio, fingers fumbling on the dial as she called the lookout on the adjacent rooftop.
“Shit, they’re about to let some civilians through. Blow it. Blow it now.”
No response. Just static.
Max swore, eyeing the civilians as they started towards the gate. They’d nearly cleared the doorway as her radio finally crackled to life.
“Copy that.”
Seconds later, the plaza came alive as the truck blew. Gunfire and screams erupted from all directions as Fireflies poured out from their hiding spots. Max watched the fray from above, scanning the crowd for the civilians. Nothing, nothing — wait. From the corner of her view, she caught a flash of red: the woman’s shirt. The pair retreated down the street, seemingly unharmed.
Satisfied, she turned her attention to the fight below. They were being slaughtered, bodies dropping almost as quickly as they came. It wasn’t a surprise. They were outnumbered four to one, something they had all been aware of from the start. For the second time today, she heard Marlene’s voice in the back of her mind.
“I don’t have time for you to question me, Tyler. I’ve told you what needs to be done. Do it,” she’d barked, shoving the detonator into her hands. Marlene had walked away, not bothering to give her a second look before exiting.
Back in the present, Max found herself gripping her rifle like a vice once again. The first wave of Fireflies lay in the street, bleeding out long before backup would ever arrive. The soldiers had begun to scan the area, fully alert after the assault. It was time to go. With a sigh, she crawled away from the edge, gripping the ladder and sliding down to the alley. She took one last look towards the street before turning and jogging towards the next checkpoint.
i approach lyra, arm outstretched, hair adorned with bliss flowers, my pules gone pale, barely a hint of color in them. my voice comes out like a dream. "sister! sister lyra i have a..." i trail off, reaching for those red locks, the tips of my fingers barely giving them a brush before i tug my hand away. "... a question..." i blink, and stare, and smile. "what do you think of the father's vision of - of -" i begin to tremble, in fear or excitement, it's hard to tell, " - the father and his visions? of a-all of us walking through eden's gates, do you -" i swallow, "all of us, do you think?"
(another girl, once, long ago, another unsure smile, another trembling hand outstretched, desperate for love, desperate for safety, for assurance; a recoil, a girl whose touch does nothing but burn, eyes wide with revulsion — not revulsion, fear — mama?)
lyra blinks the thought away. never again. not now. not here. not here, where they come to her, where they do not recoil, where they reach for her, run towards her.
she smiles, taking the faithful’s hand between hers. “of course, love,” she says softly. to the faithful. to the phantom of the little girl, still beating in her breast, and if it is for her that her eyes sting, it is no sorrow, but relief. “we’re family. we do not leave our family behind, do we? of course not. you belong with us. you — all of you — belong in the new world. i promise it.”
thank youuuuu @rosella-writes for the tag (mwah) afaik my tags are still broken, so idk if anyone will actually see this, but if you do and are so inclined, passing it forward to @kiastirling-fanfic | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @plisuu | @dreadfutures | and anyone else who wants an open invitation!
Siobhan Hawke (she/her)
Seasoning: cayenne
Weather: overcast with a sea breeze
Colour: reddish maroon
Sky: late at night and clear, lots of visible stars and the moon(s)
House Plant: lucky bamboo
Weapon: Hawke’s Key (staff)
Subject: government
Social Media: LinkedIn😅 (she do be career driven)
Make-up Product: dark lipstick
Candy: truffles
Fear: losing control
Ice cube shape: sphere like for whiskey
Method of long-distance travel: horseback
Art Style: stained glass
Mythological Creature: sisyphus stretching the definition of creature ik ik
