#first haiku i have ever written

[noa-nightingale]

a gay oars haiku

your head in my lap brought here by a cryptid man oh! a gay sweet kiss

[mynameisrobiniamadumbass]

everyone who phrased

their comments as a haiku

you passed the vibe check

[wolfish-trickster]

Choso headcanons

(I'm sorry i just love this gif so much 😩)

General

He likes to listen to indie bands

There's just something about having a band "all to himself" and being the sole fan where ever he goes

But after a while starts to feel a little lonely not having any fellow fans for friends

Doesn't really see the point in people taking care of plants in their home, especially those that only bloom once and then they die

Isn't a dog or a cat person, he likes both

Would want to learn at least the basics of every skill he can find

His favourite day of the week is friday

Stays up super late even thoigh he promises himself to fix his sleep schedual

Spoiler: he never does

Keeps fit and builts muscle to protect his family

If he meets people who are pretty agressive about their opinions and unable to listen to a different point of view he just up and leaves, doesn't want to waste the energy

Doesn't look like it but he's quite artistic, he especially enjoys making his nose mark into different shapes and ornaments to make himself look cool

His favourite part of working out is laying down and letting his body cool

Learned how to cook so he could take care of his brothers

Friendship

At the begining he would be just observing you

Not even trying to befriend you or your friends, nah

Just quietly watching from afar

His brothers would call him creepy for that

But he just wants to be sure you'll be worth the try

Eventually he's betrayed by Yuji who straight up tells you he has been looking at you when you do your thing

He tries to explain that he isn't shy or anything, but yeah, he was pretty closed off from you after you guys started talking

But since he spoke less he heard more and learned all your little quirks

Where others would buy you generic things for your birthday like a book or a mug he would buy you three new headphones becuase he remembered how you complained to him how often they break for you

Or he would give you something you genuenly need in your life and what would be useful

Also he would want to show you his creative side

Sketch you, write poems and haikus for you

He even tried to crochet you a flower but that failed quickly

He made you an origami instead 🥹

As he started to have feelings for you he needed advice from his brothers on what to do

They all just told him to ask you out

He didn't like that idea

What he did instead was collect his favourite hard rock and metal songs about love and give you that playlist on a CD on your birthday

He hoped you would get the hint

Your oblivious ass didn't 😭

He literally had to spell it out for you the next time you guys met

You gladly accepted his feelings (who wouldn't)

He asked you out on a date the very next day

Homeboy had no idea what to do on the first date tho...

So he improvised and went to ask the almighty google

Relationship

He made a list on his phone consisting of advices he took from google and rom coms: first he had to take you see a movie, then go to a theme park, then restaurant and then either take you home or to a hotel

Not his ideal plans for the first date but it's how humans do it apparently

Long story short, it was a catastrophy

As he went to your house to pick you up it started to rain real bad

You guys decided to wait it out in your home

Rain turned to storm

Choso then admited he had a plan written on the phone Yuji gave him

You told him ypu guys cane have home date instead

You and him watched a movie

You guys spent a long time deciding what to cook together but eventually agreed on pasta with some exotic sauce

You had lots of fun

You guys ended the date curled up under your sheet cuddling the night away as the storm raged on outside

Choso found out he loves home dates

He only ever does that from then on

One night him and you decided to take quizes to learn more about eachother

His love language is physical touch

Which makes sense since from his first night of cuddling he has had his hand on any part of your body anytime you guys met

It's like his hand and your body were two magnets

He loves hugging you from behind, shows how much smaller you are than him

Sometimes he likes to lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat (is what he would tell you but really he just likes to listen to your blood moving in extreme speeds through your body, but he wants to be romantic for you)

Not the one for PDA, will jold your hand at max when outside but inside the house he goes all out

All cuddling positions, all surfaces, all times of the day

Your first kiss happened a week after you had the furst date

He honestly had no idea what kissing was

You introduced him and gave him few lectures 😉

It's safe to say the student surpassed the master

His lips are surprisingly soft and warm

The first time you kissed him he was a little stunned and his nose mark swerved a little

But then he got addicted

Giving you kisses all over your face

He likes the neck the most

Especially the parts where he can feel the blood in your veins

And when he found out tongues can get involved?

He almost didn't let you breathe

The feeling of your soft and wet muscle against his was heavenly to him

At first a little weird but he quickly got used to it

Would chuckle everytime your teeth clinked together

You also thought of introducing him to the concept of hickies but he already figured it out on his own

Doesn't like giving them too often tho, to let your veins regenarate properly, otherwise he would be painting your neck purple every day

He had his time when he read a post on social media about a guy literally dying after his girlfriend gave him a hickie and oit of fear and anxiety refused to give you any hickies for a month

After about half a year of dating he decided to introduce you to his brothers

They already knew all about you

Choso doesn't talk often but when he's in the mood he won't shut up

And lately he has been talking mostly about you

All of them were nice to you and all of you got along super well

Choso fell for you even more

One date night you picked a movie that was a little less innocent than all the ones you watched before

Thankfully you didn't have to explain the birds and bees to choso when a particularly heated scene came on

But you needed to explain to him how to get rid of his very first boner in his life 💀

NSFW

Your first time happened a year after your first date

He wanted it to be special since it's both of your first time

He studied

Aka he watched porn

Didn't get hard from watching it tho, only after he started playing out the scenes in his head with you and him in the actors' places

His first ever jirkoff happened because of this

He made a playlist to get both you and him in the mood

Wasn't needed in the end

After the very awkward first round you went into it like rabbits

Remember what i said about Choso and cuddling? Same goes for positions

All positions, all surfaces, all times of the day

Tho he had his favourites

Among his favourite positions were those he could have you in his lap

He loved it when you could drap yourself all over him

He also like the access to the skin he got

His least favourite ones are where he can't see your face

The different facial expressions he gives with different thrust angles are what keeps him going

His favourite places are the bed or the couch

And he doesn't really care about the time of the day as long as both of you are willing and not busy

The first one to propose oral was him

He was curious about how it tasted down there

He didn't find the taste anything spectacular but could see the appeal

He liked the texture on his tongue more

He also found out your juices taste different during different parts of your month cycle

That way he could keep track of your period better than you

Sometimes after he was done eating you out he mentioned how your time of the month is coming so you should be prepared

Made you chuckle every time with how bluntly he says that

You also offered to give him head

Likes it when you gently drag your teeth along his shaft

Like the feeling when you have an itchy spot and you give it a good scratch, that's the same for him and your teeth

Isn't really sure if he prefers to give or recieve yet

But doesn't mind either way

Period sex is a whole different stuff to him

As soon as he found out coming can help period cramps he was all in

At one point he was curious about what would happen if he pulled out the entire inner lining with his cursed technique

Ended your period bleeding that very day

You loved him even more

Does that for you every single month

But he's not gonna lie, he has a little sadist hidden inside of him

Likes to see blood on his dick

But only period one, as soon as it's real blood from harming you he's out

Doesn't really have any other kinks than that but he's open to explore with you

Would quickly find out he has his horny days too

On those days he would ask you all shy if you two could fuck

You never told him no how could you with those eyes

Long story short he got to try a lot of exciting things with you, for which he's grateful

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader! 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a “secret” crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mando’a. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Reader’s senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers. 

Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.

Word-count: 8,270

Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker. 

That's how the weeks always started. 

You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.

The old fashioned way, older department heads joked. 

The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922’s helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked. 

And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your “secret admirer”. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker. 

You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to- 

Nah, who are you kidding? 

You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them. 

The shimmering shell  That conceals a beetle’s wing Is called elytra  - I wish I was a beetle 

Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago. 

He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering. 

Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair. 

You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried. 

Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Tech’s typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. It’s been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs. 

“Good morning, Tech.” 

Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago. 

“Hey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?” 

You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. “Good morning. I suppose, yes…” He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time. 

You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits. 

Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Tech’s closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker. 

“Don't let your caf get cold.” 

The datapad drops away. “That is for you,” he explains, “if you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.” 

You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. It’s saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolan’s (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return. 

Shame… the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. You’re going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals. 

Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)

“Mmm… That’s nice. Thank you again, Tech.” 

“You are welcome.” he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you. 

Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers. 

Setting aside notes as you read them, you’re careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what it’ll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all. 

Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. “Yes, Tech?” You’re careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that you’re not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness. 

“Senator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,” he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, “and since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.” 

“Well that’s very kind of the senator.” you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with. 

You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf. 

“I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I… accepted on your behalf.” Tech confesses, aware he’s more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but he’s strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. He’s noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on Taungsday… 

Cautiously, Tech adds, “You could always give them to a friend.” 

Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that won’t be necessary, and he’d been correct in his assessment all along. “I don’t mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, I’ve been obsessed with Naboo for a while now…” you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper. 

There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe it’d inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories. 

Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described. 

All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds. 

I’ll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise. 

The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. “What fascinates you so much about Naboo?” Tech asks, curiosity burning at him. 

“Oh… I dunno,” you say with a shrug, smiling, “it’s hard to put it all into words.” And you wouldn’t exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While you’ve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Tech’s left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you don’t. 

Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather. 

To simpler splendors  Like summer's gentle breezes and honey most sweet - When will the rain stop?

You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe it’s not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that he’s echoing back to you now. 

Tech’s level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldn’t happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant. 

A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99’s genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like he’s not taken notice that you’ve read his latest haiku. 

You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the day’s tasks. “Take your time, Tech.” you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. “I know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.”

Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before he’s ready to help you with your tasks for the day. 

On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.

“Dammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver… Would you mind handing me the… the, uh…?” Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. “Oh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when I’m done?” 

Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. “I will not. I’m finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.” He does not need to remind you to go slowly. 

Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; he’s supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good. 

(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow can’t.)

Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune he’s got stuck in his head. “Disarmed and partially dismantled by… CT-9903. That’s your squadmate Wrecker, right?” 

“Correct.” Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. He’s only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them. 

Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. “He did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.” Yes… Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is… should be… of going off. 

“Reddy…”

He catches the warning. “Sorry, ma’am.” 

You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better. 

So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again? 

“... dammit…” You’ve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve. 

Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another. 

“May I?” Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now. 

He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.

And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.

You step to the side, accepting the offer. 

“Thank you, Tech...” you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy. 

“You’ll want your datapad soon,” Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove. 

“Oh, yes…!” 

Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database. 

However, the camera will not focus.

“Strange…��� You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve used this old datapad for taking pictures.” 

“Press the red, center button on the top row twice.” 

Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. “Oh, that’s what that button does.” This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work. 

“Been using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?” Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. “Just real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?” 

Tech smiles knowingly. “Learning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.” The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go. 

“Hah, can't argue with that comparison!” he says agreeably, his smile sunny. You’ve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. He’s not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility. 

Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. “Good work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.” you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, who’s already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you. 

“Glad that’s over,” you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, “Thank you for the help once again, Tech.” You’re certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone. 

Tech’s deliberate stride slows to match with yours. “It was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.” A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration you’ve become accustomed to in the time Tech’s been here. 

You’re very familiar with how he appears when he’s concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error. 

The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his goggles…

Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database you’ll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day. 

“Tell ‘em I said hi.” you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesn’t prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Tech’s concentration. That’s when you’d truly taken notice of it for the first time.

Tech, utterly embroiled in some “little” project he’d created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really don’t have to stay here. 

You turn another page in your holomag. “I’ll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.” It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Tech’s presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.

Someone hadn’t been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutches’ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified. 

“He’s got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but I’m starting to suspect you’re looking for excuses to get rid of him because you’re feeling threatened by his intellect!”

Clone Force 99’s second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow. 

“Tech, this is when you’re supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.” Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. He’s gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, he’s come to check up on Tech, finding that he’s still at the GAR research center. He’s too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances. 

“Especially after this morning… Don’t make me do the nat-born thing, vod.”

Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect. 

“No thanks necessary, honestly.” You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if it’s worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunter’s eye. “It was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.” Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now. 

Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence. 

“Don’t, Hunter.”

“Glad you made a friend, Tech.” Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. “Wrecker might get jealous.”

“I think we all would.” Echo says with a kind chuckle.

“Plenty of me to go around,” you promised the three of them, “I love making friends with the GAR.”

A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. “Mmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?” He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. “I’m thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so I’m not wrestling with those on top of everything else I’ll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?” 

“I will be fine.” he assures you, sliding the clipboard from “your” side of the desk over to his. “I may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.”

“It’s ‘naboofields’. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.” 

You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting. 

“Not very secure, I know.” you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity. 

“Have you ever been to Naboo?” Tech asks. He’s noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders you’ve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern.  

Tech doesn’t do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be… homesick?

“Were you born there?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t born there, and I’ve never visited before. Naboo’s just some… silly dream of mine lately.” 

“Why do you say ‘silly’?” The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. “Has someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?” He couldn’t imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan. 

He’s assured there’s no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. “No one other than me, I guess. I dunno when I’d ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for stars’ sake…” You’re considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste… just a taste!)

What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you weren’t sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret? 

“Would it be impolite to presume you don’t have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?” Tech assumes you’re well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.

“Karabast, I- I hadn’t even thought of…” Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasn’t a sick day, anyways? “I have some PTO I’m owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies… I, uh, think I have more than two week’s worth.” Truthfully it’s been some time you looked at the amount of PTO you’ve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine. 

Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. “I was merely curious.” The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like aren’t you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. “May I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?”

“I was warned it was grisly.” you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. “So, as long as you don’t mind or won’t be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me… Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.” 

Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war… (Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience. 

“This should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.” Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. “I’ll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.” he promises. 

You make sure you’ve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everything’s agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it. 

Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. “Appreciate it, Tech, thank you. I’ll catch you later.” 

“Watch out for the deeper puddles, don’t slip.” Tech calls after you. 

He’s overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rain’s gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight. 

‘When will the rain stop?’ Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.

Habitually, you call back that you’ll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You don’t expect to be gone long.

Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Tech’s poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home. 

Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Tech’s broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Tech’s been careful not to voice how much he’s come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know he’s getting somewhat impatient. 

“If I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldn’t have tried to kick the first over the precipice…”

“That’s how you broke your leg?”

“Had it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than Echo…” 

He’d return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it won’t be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis. 

And you’d go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. You’d miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. You’d miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Tech’s face as the rest of his features. 

You’d miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was. 

“Swing by your locker lately?”

“You have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.”

“What do they say?”

So much by using so little. 

Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work. 

They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner. 

Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while he’s still here. (While there’s still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) He’s been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isn’t too far from your place. You’re not sure what the protocol on this is (or if there’s any), and he’s more than welcome to turn you down, but-

This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way. 

You’re going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you don’t want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by. 

You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists. 

And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough. 

It's time to stop daydreaming.

When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off. 

“Hey, Tech, I'm back.” You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. “Got some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.” 

“Yes… You certainly did.” One of the analysts lost their temper with the ‘newfangled’ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note. 

“Speaking of notes,” he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, “This came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.” 

Giving the lieutenant’s request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republic’s letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twi’leks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but it’s simple enough that you don’t mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off. 

“Thought you’d have gotten more done than this.” you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk. 

Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. “Felt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.” He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up. 

His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have minded too much, but thank you. What’d you do instead until I got back?” You figure it didn’t take all too long to study the commando’s footage, finding the notes Tech’s took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance. 

It’s the same thin lettering as the haikus. 

Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. “General research. Nothing important.” He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand. 

They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasn’t the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words I’m sorry - and that was normal with his brothers. 

So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word “Liiiike…?” while you continue to settle in, Tech knows it’s okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say. 

“It was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.” As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. “They’re made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.” The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function. 

“Huh,” you say politely with a smile to match, “I had no idea. That’s really neat.” 

You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy. 

For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didn’t work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows. 

While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. That’s not bad. 

“Good to know….”

“What is it?” Tech asks.

“Oh, just poking into weather records,” you hum, hiding the portal, “Seems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I don’t think it was a product age failure.” From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army. 

Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but you’ll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge. 

You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too. 

When the personnel from another department finally leaves, they’re grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word “di’kut!” loudest of all. 

You recognize the Mando’a. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time… Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasn’t in there.) You wonder where they know the word from. 

Speaking for yourself, you’ve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and you’ve added a few more words to your repertoire from Tech’s uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that he’s allowed you to see some of. 

And speaking of them… Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if there’s any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence. 

“Hey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where you’ll go first?” 

A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off. 

Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. “None that I’m aware of, but I suspect we’ll be going wherever we are needed.” There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in. 

“Is there some reason you’re asking?” He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated. 

Shoulders bounce. “What if I said I was just curious?” You don’t expect him to buy that, he’s too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once you’re certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. “Being curious isn’t a crime, is it?”

“On some planets it is. Some rather… ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.” 

The question had been rhetorical, and you don’t mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also don’t want to begin to imagine how that sort of “crime” is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is… frankly ridiculous.

“Well good thing we’re not in one of those isolated cultures.” you say, now thinking how you’ll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after he’s read your poem instead. 

“Agreed.” Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like he’s performing an inspection. “So I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I don’t believe you are ‘just curious’.” 

“I did have an idea…” you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, “Since I heard Clone Force 99 isn’t keen on following every little order…” This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to “his” side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them. 

Can't we ever go  to a nice place, verdant fields  of spring eternal? - Feel like breaking a few rules?

Tech’s eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didn’t take you for the sort of person who’d encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone… Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone. 

“I thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeks…” You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. “I thought… Maybe once your leg heals up, and you’re cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?” He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if you’re away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally. 

Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.

“You know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?”

You swallow nervously. “W-what?”

“That it almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date.” 

You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but there’s little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If you’re blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look. 

You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. “I take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.” His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own. 

“I did. A while ago, actually.” you confess, confirming his suspicions. “I had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didn’t see a reason to say anything, or stop you.” You add that you’ve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you. 

He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. “You really want to spend time with me on Naboo?” Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, you’re asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet. 

You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime. 

Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until he’s cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory. 

“Poetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now you’re offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.” you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would. 

And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech. 

That was what mattered most.

First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! 🩷

Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: Open]

[chihuahuawashere]

ZOLU!!!

During the 2 year time skip when zoro was trying under MiHawk at his mansion zoro picked up poetry.

He would write haiku’s and poems rhymes and little sentences or just writing about his day.

The only occurring thing that was happening in those writings was that Luffy was in every single one of them.

He would write Haikus about missing and longing for Luffy

To writing sappy shakespearean type poems about wanting luffy to be in his arms again.

Also writing and comparing him to things that he saw that day. “I saw a beautiful sunset but the warmth of the afternoon sun doesn’t compare to the warmth you give in my heart when we cuddle in bed” 

Even writing about what luffy would have loved to seen. “When I got here I saw a bunch of monkeys with swords I know you would have loved to have seen that or maybe fought them” “I saw a beetle the size of my hand! Luffy I just /know/ you would have loved to seen that wish I could have showed you”

Zero wrote every single day all leading up to when they were gonna see each other at Sabody. He kept those letters as a reminder of his love and loyalty to Luffy.

But of course luffy has a way of finding everything out back on the ship Luffy found a little box under zoros bed while he was looking for his hat. When he opened the box it held all of Zoros letters.

Each letter were in there own envelope with the seal on it. Curiosity killed the cat and luffy carefully opened all of them making sure that the seal didn’t break. Each letter was in order from the first day Zoro was at MiHawks mansion all the way to the last.

And luffy read each and every one of them. It gave me a better understanding of zoro he thought he’ll never reach. Some letters made him laugh as he reads about his 145th time getting his ass kicked by the monkeys

While some made him want to cry when he read just how /bad/ Zoro was beating himself up about not being strong enough to take care of luffy and the crew and how strong then he needs to be for them and for luffy.

He cried extra hard on how Zoro was practically begging to see Luffy again. Saying how it’s the worst type of torture he’s ever went through and how he will never make any of his worst enemies go through this type of pain that is in his heart. Some letters even have tear stains on it. Basically saying that Zoroastrian cried while writing this.

Some made his heart swell with utter love and devotion when Zoro was listing off all the things he loves about Luffy and he can’t wait to kiss every inch of him when he got back to the sunny.

After hours of reading Luffy finally got to last letter. It was so obvious that Zoro was writing about this in a happy rush considering the was the it was written in a different way compared to all the other letters.

In the beginning all the other letters were sloppy with messy handwriting with bad grammar no good punctuation but near the middle in the end the handwriting got better and a lot better and the grammar got good to it even went to the point that near the ending of his letters during the second year he started writing in cursive and in the month where he had to go back to Sabody he was writing in perfect cursive. 

When Luffy got done reading the last letter Zoro walks into the boys quarters. All to see Luffy sitting on the ground in his right side was a pile of opened envelopes while on his left side were Zoros letters all neatly stacked. Luffy whips his head to see who is at the door and saw Zoro Who was staring at him in shock.

Before Zoro could say anything or just to justify himself Luffy leaped into his arms in a crying mess all while peppering him and kisses all over he’s fact and neck. Whisper chanting “I love you” and “I missed you too”. Zoro held on to him tightly making sure that Luffy wouldn’t leave him. Equally trying to Pepper kisses all over Luffys face while quietly crying into Luffys hands that cups his checks.

In the end Nami finds Luffys hat and finds Luffy and Zoro crying making out the floor doorway of the boys quarters. Hitting them on the head for making out in a werid place again but also for crying. Though they’ll never tell her the real reason on why there were crying so much that day. 

[slayingfiction]

What would your advice for just-starting-out young authors be?

I love new writers! I’ve never known a better way to escape my reality and live a thousand different lives.

I started writing when I was young, maybe 12 or 13 years old. I am now 25, and very much consider myself to be a child, but still, in my 10+ years of personal writing and classes, here are some of the best tips I can give anyone who is new to writing, regardless of age.

Read. Read. Read. Then read some more. The easiest and fastest way to learn how to write is by reading and studying how other people have written their stories. Study their balance of dialogue vs description vs action. Study the words they use and what they’re choosing to describe. Study the scenes that make you feel something, or pull you to the story even more, and dissect it until you understand how to do it.

Daydream. At night, in the morning, before and after school, during school, during work. When people are trying to talk to you, just daydream. Image worlds with populated moons. Imagine worlds with multiple human-like species all living in the same area. Image a boy who goes home and cries to his adoptive vampire parents, and girls who practices knife throwing every night to prepare for the apocalypse that no one sees coming. Dream of everything and anything because that’s how you keep and improve your creativity. Eventually you may even write something with it.

Write for yourself. Always start by writing what you enjoy, and love your characters and your stories. Everything about your first draft should be because you love the story, not what other people like. You will never please everyone, so start with yourself, and build a community with the ones who love your story as much as you do.

Do it on your own timeline. If you want to write a book in a month, edit the next and publish right after, do it. If you want to write the first five chapters of 8 books without finishing, do it. If, like me, you want to write your first novel at 18 years old, and 7 years later still not feel ready to publish, that’s ok! You are not falling behind anyone else, you are exactly where you should be on your own path.

Practice. Your writing will improve with practice, that’s how it works, it’s how it always works. No way to skip right to publishing a first draft and becoming famous for it. Practice and just keep writing, you will improve.

Challenge yourself. While you may love fantasy or romance, or maybe all your story ideas are too big for only one book and they all end up being series’, you need to try new things. Write a mystery short story. Write poetry on how you feel. Write one page on how you could survive a zombie apocalypse as long as you have your coffee in the morning, it doesn’t matter, just try new things. Trying new things is how I wrote this haiku: Take a deep inhale, Breathe fresh air into my lungs, I savorfreedom. Is it the greatest haiku ever? No, but it makes me happy, and reminds me that I can write, good or bad, and still be proud of myself.

Keep all your projects. Good or bad. Look back on them years later and think, yeah that was terrible, at least I’m better now. Or maybe think, this wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. It’s a progressive journey. You can take your time. DONT EVER SHAME YOUR YOUNGER SELF FOR THEIR WORK. THEY TRIED THEIR HARDEST AND WROTE AS BEST THEY COULD. WE ARE PROUD OF OURSELVES, NOT EMBARRASSED OR SHAMED. Whether the work is from years ago or days go. Be kind to yourself, no one else owes you that.

Compare. Compare to popular novels, compare to your friends stories or to people online. Compare and see if your character are developed enough, or if your story makes sense, or if it’s relatable. When comparing however, keep in mind that your written style will be different than all others writers. Your first novel will not be the same as an author’s 10th book that just went viral on TikTok. It takes practice and time. Compare for style, technique, structure and plot. Not for popularity, worth, importance, and don’t feel down thinking that someone writing at a higher grade level makes them better, it doesn’t.

Share your work. If you are embarrassed, use a pen name. That’s perfectly fine. Put your work out there and get feedback. Having one person saying your story is (negative criticism here) is going to happen, don’t freak out. It doesn’t mean your story is flawed and should be tossed. If most people are saying that, then maybe it’s time to revisit the story and plot. Getting feedback from people reading your story is important, you want to ask specific questions so you don’t get generic answers. Get real reviews from real people, the mean voice in your head doesn’t get a say.

Learn the difference between perfect and done. I know, I know. Perfectionists around the world just scoffed and thought ‘I would if I could’. Here’s the thing, it’ll never be perfect. A word won’t be right, you can’t find the right way to convey an emotion, your choice of vocabulary isn’t up to your standards, I get it. You want your work to be absolute perfection so that everyone loves it and no one can say a bad thing about it, but it doesn’t work that way. Instead make it to ‘complete’, then nitpick some details, then it’s done. Done is good, it’s where you want to be.

Self-publishing? Pay for a professional editor and a graphic designer. It makes a difference, I promise.

There’s lots of others, but I would say as a writer-starter-pack, these should get you started, then you will learn lessons all on your own, or find them as you’re writing later on. Truly, just have fun, and the rest will come with time.

Happy Writing!

[tortured-demigods-department]

an unhinged (and unofficial) dissertation on the pjo fandom

so i don't usually post anything that isn't my-works-related, but i had a...mildly heated discussion with a fellow film student tonight about the pjo show and it's got me thinking. bear with me, we'll be here awhile.

as we all know, the first season of pjo has ended. i've stayed relatively OFF tumblr and other social media during this time, but i know there are a lot of OG fans who are (in their words) "massively disappointed" in the show. most of the complaints i've heard have been during in person conversations though, so this post is mostly going to be referencing real complaints i've heard.

i've been a part of this fandom since i was thirteen. that's nearly eight fucking years of my life that i've devoted to the pjo universe. i have written and consumed YEARS' worth of fanfiction, i have read and reread every book so many times i can quote them forwards and backwards, and i went to the bookstore every single year on the new books' release dates to pick up my copies in-person. this fandom, these characters and this world have brought so much joy to my life, and i don't think i could ever fully articulate that in words. when i think of this series, i genuinely feel nothing but happiness.

but a few years ago—around the time i started college—i started distancing myself from the fandom for one glaring reason. this fandom can be such an...angry place? like, genuinely, i don't know how far it goes back—maybe all the way to the release of HoA, honestly—but i wasn't here pre-HoA, so all i know is that i very much remember how much people hated ToA when it came out.

here i was, having the TIME of my life with apollo and his silly little haikus, and people are going to war over how the series' writing quality has gone to shit and how everything was better before, blah, blah, blah. IN SPITE of everything that series gave us—discussion of the repercussions of child abuse and ptsd, representation of lgbtqa+ characters, and deep psychological messages that really teach young readers, i think, how to better understand themselves and their emotions and deal with them in healthy ways. and it just wasn't fun to be in a fandom where, as soon as you go "hey, did you read the new book?" they scoff and roll their eyes and only want to talk about how terrible it is. (i also missed all the discourse on the sun and the star when it came out—PHENOMENAL read, btw—but i've read some things that lead me to believe that it wasn't well received either, in spite of how lovely it was.)

so...it's dramatic to say i "left" the fandom, but i certainly withdrew from it. deleted my pjo ao3 and tumblr, started over with a different fandom. but the love has always been there, and the show starting really helped spark it fully back to life.

but now, the same thing is happening again, i'm noticing. remember back in the day, when we only had the shitty fucking movies, and we were like "man, ANYTHING would be better than this garbage. literally just give us actors who are the right age and we'll be happy." well, now we have PHENOMENAL kid actors who genuinely are having a good time playing our beloved characters, and instead of supporting them, we're STILL complaining about them not being "portrayed correctly"?

i've talked to so many people who complain that percy is "too smart," which is kind of a bullshit insult to percy's canon character. in the books (at least the first five) we're seeing things ONLY from percy's pov. he's a kid who's struggled with learning disabilities and been told he's an idiot all his life by everyone except his mom—but as others have pointed out way more eloquently than i could, percy is a very intelligent and powerful individual while maintaining his goofy fun personality, which is WHY so many people love him so much. he's complex, and i think they managed to capture that really well in the show even amidst all the changes.

don't get me started on the fucking racism towards leah sava jeffries—i'm honest to gods ashamed that there are racists who call themselves pjo fans. she is so talented, and everything we ever could have hoped for in an on-screen annabeth. ALL of the kids are—there's literally no argument to be had there.

and then, if people aren't complaining about the casting, it's the series' writing. or there's too much exposition. rick is changing too many things. the directors don't know what they're doing. it's not a TRUE book adaptation. (someone said that to me, and i genuinely laughed because i thought they were joking. when the MOVIES exist, they wanted to make that comment about the show.)

are there some things i would change about the show, given the opportunity? god, yes. the set design for the underworld was horrendous. (in my opinion, of course.) but here's the thing. i have spent eight years of my life waiting for this show to happen, and in that time, i've learned a lot about how much goes into successfully producing such a complex series. how much money and time is spent, and how many people have to be on board to make it happen. it's genuinely kind of miraculous that we're even getting this show at all, considering all the ways it could have failed before it even made it out of pre-production.

and i think we, as fans, sometimes forget that we aren't owed this. we don't own the percy jackson franchise. it makes me so sick and tired when authors or artists in any capacity feel like they have to cater their works to the masses, because they know they'll get thrown into the fucking fire if they don't. rick and becky riordan didn't have to got to the trouble of producing this show for us. they chose to—everyone involved chose to—because they wanted to make something fun and enjoyable not only for the fans, but everyone who chose to be a part of it.

do you know how insane it is that, when you read pretty much any interview of pjo bts, everyone talks about how fun the production was? i've been on film sets. they can be ABSOLUTELY miserable when they're not done right. but eight months into production, the kids were still laughing and having a good time, everyone's still giving 100%, they're excited, it's fun. walker was willing to go into a diving tank for a full fucking day in order to get one scene—i know i would never have that kind of dedication, and i bet 99% of you wouldn't either.

i know this has gotten really long-winded, but i've said all of that to say that...i'm kind of tired of fans trying to bring down the show, and more than that, trying to bring down each other for having a good time. as i've said before (many times, i'm sure), i waited eight years for this, and i have had SUCH a fun time watching it. assuming we get a season 2 renewal, there are going to be even more new fans coming in than we've already gotten from season 1, and i want this fandom to be a fun and positive place for them. for all of us. we don't have to miserable and angry all time. we can critique the show, sure—it's not perfect, and it was never going to be—but we have to remember that television is an art form, and that art is subjective even when it involves our favorite characters. and we can accept that and still have a good time, because it's just more fun to have fun, you know?

this fandom has always had so much potential to be the BIGGEST, most supportive and kind and loving fandom. with how much representation this series has, with how much content we've been given, with the SHEER massive number of us...i've always thought we could be a really, really great community. maybe it's impossible to hope that we could be the best fandom on earth, but if nothing else...could we all try to just be a little bit kinder? genuinely, as cheesy as it may sound...it's just nicer when we're nice to each other. and when there's so many real things in the world to be mad about...i would much rather this be a place where we can come to at the end of a long day and just...feel at home. personally, i just think that would be really, really nice.

[briarpotter]

B-4: Writing a haiku is so fun. Make sure to get the syllables right.

He groaned in frustration. Ginny’s birthday was coming up soon, and while he had everything else ready, he just wasn’t able to write the poem. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, “Something wrong?” He heard from across him. He leaned against the back of the couch with his hands over his eyes.

“Yeah. You know how I want to propose to Ginny on her birthday? Well, I thought that I would write a poem to her to express my love. But I have no idea what to write!” She smiled sympathetically at him and furrowed her brow in concentration. Her face brightened before she suggested what might have been the best idea ever.

“What about a Haiku?” “A hai-what now?” He asked. “A haiku. It’s a Japanese poem, made of seventeen syllables, with 3 lines, 5 syllables in the first, 7 in the second and 5 in the third.” She explained. Harry nodded in understanding, his nose wrinkling in deep thought. “Writing a haiku is so fun. Make sure to get the syllables right!” She said.

“I got it!” A few minutes later, he exclaimed. Picking up his quill, he scribbled furiously on the parchment on the table in front of him. Hermione watched him in curiosity, trying to see what he was writing. After a while, “I’m done!” He shouted victoriously. “That’s great, Harry! Can I see?” He nodded and handed Hermione the parchment.

Ginny, my true love, Underneath the stars above, Will you marry me?

She saw the amount of crosses and scribbles and thought that it was very good. Harry bounced on his feet in enthusiasm, nervous to know Hermione’s thoughts. “Well?” He asked. “Hmm?” She shook her head. “What do you think?” “Oh! I think it’s great, Harry!” She said, smiling warmly at him. “There’s another one. Take a look!” She turned the parchment over curiously and saw more crosses and another haiku that Harry had written.

Ginny, my true love, In your eyes, my heart finds home, Will you marry me?

“It won’t matter which one you use, they’re both great. But I like the second one a bit more.” She said. “Alright. Thanks ‘Mione!” He kissed her on the cheek and hurried off to Merlin knows where. She chuckled at him and went back to her book.

She was really glad her best friend was happy, and he would be even more happy if Ginny said yes, and knowing her, she definitely would. Ginny loved Harry more than anything in the world, and she knew Harry felt the same. Harry definitely deserved love and happiness in his life, after everything he went through.

[raisha-gs]

Royal Woods Cemetery. Probably the last place you'd ever thought to be visiting, especially at this time of the night. Despite having known Lucy Loud for a while, this was the first time you were ever invited one of her Mortician Club activities. Or so you thought.

As you walk down the gravel pathway past the rows of gravestones in various states of disrepair, you notice a faint red glow in the distance and approach it.

"Are you sure the spelling is right? It has to be perfect." A monotone yet serene voice could be heard faintly as you got closer.

"Trust me. I did not spend all this time in the library researching the subject just to mess it up." The second voice replied in equally cool manner.

Underneath the silver glow of the moon sat Lucy and her fellow club member, Haiku, in a small clearing. The duo perked up as you approached them with a hand wave.

"Glad you could make it." Lucy remarked with a smile.

"About time as well." Haiku jokingly added. "Did you bring it?"

You sit down next to them and reach into your haversack and reveal to them one of three large wooden baseball bats that was stashed inside.

"Excellent. We can begin now." Lucy chirped while still maintaining her usual tone.

You sit down on the grass amongst them and look in awe at the the summoning circle they had drawn on the ground with red paint. Five smaller rings surrounded the summoning circle, each with a red candle inside of them that glowed with a bright red flame. Emblazoned around the ring were words written in a runic text along with lines which intersected with each other to form a star. What caught your eye however was a small, green cube in the center of it all. 

"Impressive isn't it? As far as summoning circles go, I daresay I have outdone myself this time." Haiku boasted while admiring her handicraft.

You point towards the cube at the center of the circle and enquire about it.

"That? There's quite the story behind it." Haiku mused as you lean in closer to listen.

"You remember that big fight between Lady Ace and that badass woman with the crazy hair some time ago? Well, what if I told you I was there when it happened?"

You let out a gasp as Haiku continues her story.

"Long story short, I was out looking shopping for some new funeral gowns when that woman attacked some kind of military convoy. She was attempting to steal its cargo, but during the battle this strange cube fell out of the truck." Haiku explained.

"When I saw the cube I was instantly reminded of Lucy's journal and I knew I had to snag it."

Haiku's words shock you, and you start to berate her about it, however the duo merely chuckle as Haiku explains herself.

"Come on, do I really look like the kind of person who would steal stuff for the heck of it?"

...

"I'm not." Haiku glared. "But it just so happens that there is a summoning ritual in Lucy's journal that we wanted to try out." 

"And as luck would have it, that cube is exactly what we need to make it work." Lucy continued as she passes the old book she had in her hands to you. The page she pointed out was inscribed in a language you had never seen before and scrawled on the left most page was a hand drawn rendition of the cube that matches the actual artifact itself.

You look at the cube with uncertainty as it crystalline form pulses with a faint green glow from within it while its edges were surrounded by a tarnished gold brace which shimmered slightly from the red light of the candles. Lucy's pet bat, Fangs, waddling around the edge of the circle with a look of caution on his face which somewhat mimicked your own. This leads you to inquire about the journal and the ritual.

"Oh, this journal? I discovered it while my family were cleaning the attic. Turns out it was one of many my Great Grandma Harriet kept, but this is the first time I ever seen one of them written in this language."

"Lucy and I spent a lot of our free time trying to decipher the language. Almost six years I think?..."

"We've only been doing it for a year." Lucy corrected her.

"Well it sure felt like six. Translating an unknown language from scratch isn't easy work." Haiku lamented.

"Regardless, we were able to roughly translate a number of sentences from these pages. Its not perfect, but I think we have managed to nail down the ritual, amongst other things." Lucy boasted which peaked your interest.

"Did you know that according to the journal this language is called Zephorean?

"Xiphorean." Lucy corrected her friend.

Ignoring it, Haiku continued on about their revelations on the journal.

"And according to the pages, this cube is a source of great power, and has been used to imprison many beings."

You swallow hard and ask Lucy about the possible dangers of the ritual.

"Well, that's why you're here. We're hoping that the entity sealed inside might be the kind will grant us wishes for setting it free."

"Or maybe a handsome demon prince who will be indebted to us for life." Haiku imagined with a grin on her face.

"Or perhaps both." The two girls remarked at the same time while clasping their hands. 

Both of them let off a long swooning sigh, but were interrupted when you made deliberate cough, urging them to continue as you pass Lucy back the journal.

"Right... But just in case whatever comes out isn't to our liking, or decides to get physical, that is where the bats come out.

Haiku's statement made Fangs let out a small squeak of confusion.

"Not that kind of bats." Lucy replied to her pet.

You are still uncertain about the ritual and comment that it would be better if the other members mortician club were around, citing safety in numbers.

"That is true, but this kinda is our personal pet project. The others gave up after a few weeks when the translation progress became slow."

"Plus, if it really is a handsome demon prince inside there, there will be less competition if is just the two of us." Haiku snarked as she gave Lucy a wink who smiled back in glee.

Putting you hand on your forehead, you give a sigh and tell them that whatever happens, you'll have their back. Lucy smiles back and turns to Haiku.

"Shall we begin?"

"Lets do this." Haiku replies with confidence as the two of them stand up followed by you. The two girls each hold one end of the journal as Lucy clears her throat.

"Arcane echoes, liberate the prisoner of the void!" Lucy pronounced over the circle with her free hand raised and begins chanting the Xiphorean language alongside Haiku.

A strong gust of wind suddenly blows, extinguishing the flames of the candles. However the lights did not cease, as the summoning circle began glow in the same red hue as the candles. The longer they chanted the brighter the circle became.

You watch as the cube slowly starts to levitate off the ground, glowing brighter and brighter with an emerald green light. The longer the chanting went on, the more it started to vibrate as red cracks start to form on the brace containing the artifact. A loud sickening hum pulsating from it as it rose further and further off the ground, electrical bolts crackling from it. 

"I... I think its working!" Haiku shouted while Lucy continued the chant. However her words don't fill you with confidence, as you slowly pull out the bat from your bag in preparation of what's to come. The cube was now hovering directly above you and the girls, vibrating at a terrifying speed. 

All of sudden a loud bang echoes from the cube along with a bright light engulfs you and the entire cemetery.

You attempt to shield your face from the light, but it does you no good.

After that there was nothing but darkness and silence.

------------------

A Gift for @neonio99 as a part of a Secret Santa event on another server I'm on! Featured are his favorite characters, Haiku and Lucy, about to do some summoning in the Royal Woods cemetery. I'm sure nothing could possibly go wrong.

I was inspired by CoyoteRom's artwork of the two of them for this gift, but instead of just drawing out a typical summoning scenario, I wanted to add my own spin to it.

Anyway, with the last of the Christmas art out of the way, all that is left is one for the New Year, so stay tuned!

[baizhoobies]

For you event for BSD, black butler and genshin impact for any adult male characters

Im a female Sagittarius , my mbti is intj, I have a high pain tolerance. I can actually sing really well but only when I’m alone. I never wanna drink alcohol in my life and I secretly despise it. I’m also an introvert. I’m also Latina and 4”11. I rarely get grossed out. I’m straight . I love horror and rarely get grossed out and I like cats more then people . I have autism. I love watching movies and playing genshin impact. I also like learning and reading . I know English, my Spanish is rusty and the basics of French. I love desserts. Im also Demi which means I can’t fall for someone romantically or sexually until their is a emotional connection . We have to be friends first. I love the dark and macabre. I prefer a cafe to a concert for a date.

I match you up with . . . ♡

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ Edgar Allen Poe | Bungo Stray Dogs

Poe was the first character that came to mind because much like you, you are introverted, have a love for the macabre and of course, for reading. I have headcanoned Poe as a demisexual as well, so he can relate to you on a personal level.

As someone who doesn’t like big crowds, he would find himself coming out of his shell more when its just the two of you - he will most likely want you to read any and all novels he has written. He would take you to a nice, quiet cafe and would beg ask you to read over his works.

As much as he would get excited over sharing common interests, he will also take a keen interest in your hobbies that he himself has not partaken in; such as Genshin Impact. He could happily watch you play, and if you explain the game mechanics to him (in particular the wish system) he would absolutely become an enabler when it comes to purchasing wishes. - the man has got money $$$

You log in one day and see that you have a ridiculous amount of primogems and you kinda just ??? - which Poe may play coy and say some shit like “oh that is a mystery~” like yeah, right, a total mystery, Mr Money Man.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ Sebastian Michaelis | Black Butler

Phew, what to say about this man. I will start with the obvious that the both of you prefer the company of cats rather than people; something you both can closely relate to. Once the both of you get closer to each other, he would absolutely show you his collection of cats that he keeps hidden away. They are his pride and joy after all.

As someone who regularly tutors Ciel, he would be more than happy to help you in learning another language, especially in French. Sebastian is fluent in a few languages, including french, so if you were to ask him, he would absolutely teach you. As for Spanish, I am sure he would be just as enthusiastic to learn with you.

He would encourage you to sing! I can imagine him one night walking down the corridor and hearing a sweet voice singing, your voice. He would hide behind your door and listen to you for a while, smiling to himself. If he ever walks in on you whilst singing, he would definitely tease you, but ultimately would encourage you to sing more, especially to him.

Oh and one last thing, if you tell him you like desserts, he would ensure to make an extra portion whilst baking for his young lord, Ciel. He would either wait till he has done serving his master to give it to you in person, or he would deliver it to your door, wrapped up nicely with a bow; which is attached to a little love note.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ Kaedehara Kazuha | Genshin Impact

The first person I had in mind to match with you was Kazuha. He is a gentle soul that is quiet, at least at first. He is someone I can imagine would prefer to get to know people on an emotional level before getting into a relationship.

Kazuha is known to be a bit of a poet, and would regularly write haikus - and if the both of you get comfortable enough with each other, he would gladly show you some of his works, even if he doesn’t think they are any good.

As someone like myself who also has autism, I would say Kazuha is one of the most emotionally understanding characters of Genshin; coming across as someone who is sensitive to your needs. Kazuha has a very easy-going personality, but is also determined to help and support his friends - honestly he is the perfect example of boyfriend material!

If you ever did feel comfortable in singing in front of Kazuha, he would happily play his Shibabue and whistle to the rhythm. Kazuha loves music and believe me, he’d love to hear you sing.

[blossomingbooks]

Book review: Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass, Lana Del Rey

It's been a while since I've done a poetry book review; so, the other day when I reread Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass by Lana Del Rey, I thought that this would be a nice way to go back to the genre!

Known in the music industry for her melancholic sounds and poetic lyricism, Lana Del Rey's first poetry collection didn't come as a surprise when it was released in 2020. Having been a huge fan of her work for many years, I wouldn't say that this is her best poetic venture, but it's definitely a very interesting body of work to analyze.

The 19 poems that form this book (alongside 10 haikus and some original photography) are very much free-form. Some of them, like the titular one and "Sportscruiser", have a storytelling quality to them, leading the reader through a very particular narrative within the poet's life.

Like in her music, Del Rey is quite masterful at setting a scene, establishing from the beginning the commonplace details that create a specific atmosphere. Her poetry is clearly influenced by the style of Allen Ginsberg and Walt Whitman, poets who she has previously referenced in songs. The stream of consciousness and lengthy format of her poems recall that of both Whitmanian and Beat poetry.

Del Rey began writing these poems in 2017, following a writer's block that she had while beginning to work on her sixth album, Norman Fucking Rockwell! (which came out a year prior to the book). This is an interesting context because, having been written more or less simultaneously, one can find some dialogue between these two works — as if the acclaimed album was a show and this book, the backstage.

Just like NFR!, this poetry collection is permeated by imagery of California (in itself the title of a song in the album). One of the most poignant poems is called "LA Who Am I to Love You", which personifies the city of Los Angeles. She sees LA as home, juxtaposing it with the image of her absent mother:

I never had a mother, will you let me make the sun my own for now, and the ocean my son? I'm quite good at tending to things despite my upbringing, can I raise your mountains?

Further Californian imagery can be found in "The Land of 1,000 Fires" (which addresses the wildfires that happened in the state in 2020), as well as references to Long Beach in "Past the Bushes Cypress Thriving" and "Never To Heaven". But inspiration from her surroundings isn't the only correlation between this book and NFR!; a lot of lyrical similarities can be found as well.

In the song "How to disappear", she dialogues with the poem "Past The Bushes Cypress Thriving": "you don't want to be forgotten / You just want to disappear". Similarly, "Let's pour one out / to knowing / not hoping", from "In the Flats of Melrose", recalls the track "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but I have it".

"Mariners Apartment Complex" is replaced by a "stupid apartment complex" in "Sportscruiser", while "Cinnamon Girl" is hinted at by two different poems. In "Sugarfish", "sugar sugar in my teeth / from your kiss you texting me" recalls the lyrics "Cinnamon in my teeth / From your kiss / You're touching me". In "ringtone", "if you let me be myself / u will be the first one who ever did" reminds one of the chorus "But if you hold me without hurting me / You'll be the first who ever did".

Del Rey's constant self-referencing creates a very personal, self-sustaining universe always in conversation with itself. In this particular work of poetry, the artist makes a detour from her musical endeavors towards a quieter, unfiltered vista of her intimate reality.

Unpretentious and genuine, Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass, although not as captivating as her music usually is, benefited a lot from the parallel release of its spoken word album. Her melodic sensibility gives life to words that on paper don't strike a chord as much, while the instrumental production of her current collaborator Jack Antonoff sets the perfect atmosphere for her recitation.

[sonofshin]

RP blog for a little baby dragon. Guest OC muses appear every now and then, and they all care very much for the little lad.

Soapie’s general rules

I really trust people will behave themselves so I hope most of these rules are old news.

-Don’t godmod. Don’t take control of my character or dictate what should happen next, thank you.

-Shipping is done via chemistry only. Hayase is baby.

-Please respect me, as a mun. I am a human being behind a computer. If I don’t want to rp with you or do certain plots, please respect that.

-If you have beef with me, please let me know so we can talk it out. DM’s, asks, anons, anything goes. I’d like to know if I fucked up or made someone uncomfortable. I’m not a mind reader so communication is always key. I make mistakes and I’d like to set things right if I hurt someone. I’d rather be hurt with a reason, than to be hurt without one.

-The above statement also goes for general annoyances. Sometimes I forget specific rules or interpret them differently. I’ll never be mad if you let me know. I’m never trying to upset anyone.

-Anon hate will only be accepted in the form of haiku’s that end in ‘it’s snowing on Mount Fuji’, or when written in surfer slang.

-NSFW is accepted in gore, violence, and sex. I also draw smut every now and then and my tag for such things is ‘sinflowers’. So block that if you don’t want to see the occasional butt. Suggestive things are usually tagged as ’nsft’. Sometimes I forget or sometimes I do not think something is suggestive enough to warrant that tag. If things slip by and bother you, please hit me up. Anonymously is also totally accepted. I just need to know so I can pay closer attention to it.

-Following is an iffy thing for me. I am shy, very shy, and often don’t follow back when people follow me. Due to recent events I am also very much inclined to only follow friends. You may, however, still interact with me.

-On the subject of tagging: I don’t. Meaning, that I don’t tag every single thing on my blog. I tag the most obvious triggers if it comes to pass. I don’t do any ‘tw: trigger’. It’s literally just the word(s). Like blood, gore, etc. IF YOU NEED SOMETHING TAGGED THEN PLEASE MESSAGE ME! EVEN IF IT IS ANONYMOUSLY! I CAN NOT CHANGE THINGS IF I AM NOT AWARE OF A PROBLEM!

- On formatting: I don’t format and don’t mind if you do. However, overly spaced text gives me a headache so I might ask you to unspace if we RP together. My brain is tiny, please forgive me

-You have permission to hurt my muse as long as you are willing to deal with the consequences. No one likes to be in pain and my muses will probably retaliate. Giving me a heads up is appreciated though not required. As long as you don’t KILL my muse, things will be gucci. No, you don’t need to ask permission first.

- If you tell me that I, the mun, hate your muse just because my muse is angry at them, I will come to your house and dehydrate all your plants. This will never, EVER be the case and I will absolutely take great offence. Mun does not equal muse. EVER!

- I, the mun, am 25+, go by Soapie, and have English as a second language. I obviously will not RP smut with minors and if I find out you are doing such things you will get a message from me to quit that shit. If you continue, you will get blocked. I am a rather aloof person. I have a resting bitch face, even in text. I am also autistic. Please know I have the best intentions when typing. I simply have room temperature IQ. I’m sorry

If you have read these rules, send me a mango

P.S. Having fun is mandatory >:)

[holofoiltowercard]

The Journey of The Tarot Haiku

IV: The Emperor - Structure and Order

Today I thought I would talk about structure with regard to how the book came about.

First, the structure of the poems: believe it or not, I was first considering limericks just because I really love the structure and flow of the limerick, and I enjoy a good challenge. At the same time, I don't think I have ever written a single limerick in my life - this is a case of "I love to eat it but I never cook it for myself" I suppose. Haikus, however, are a different story: I have written them on and off in the past, usually on the spur of the moment and mostly for the fun of it as I was chatting with friends. When the Eight of Swords card inspired me, that first ever haiku came very naturally, fully formed: the poem you will find in the book is that very first poem just as it had come to my head. Of course, this doesn't mean that all of them were so easy to write - as evidenced by the fact that I still had about forty poems or so to go when I first burned out.

Speaking of writing the poems: as I chose to use Scrivener to assemble the book's contents, that was the same place where I kept track of the poems, and I kept tallies of them. Not to overwhelm myself, I always set goals like, "for your next milestone, write 20 new poems". I wish I still had an in progress picture for Scrivener, but I kept editing the page where I kept track of everything. I do, however, have evidence of keeping score in various bullet journals!

I loved making these, and by now I'm also glad that they show an incomplete state of things, because it gives you an idea of how hard I was trying to motivate myself with colorful tallies.

Just for comparison, this was the progress page in my Scrivener:

See the sidebar? I was not kidding about being meticulous about the structure and squirreling those poems away.

Speaking of which, a bit about the structure of the book: in it you first find some fundamentals, such as poems about the Tarot in general, some key concepts like context and reversals, and then the number system and Court Card personalities. I originally wondered if I should include the latter two with the Minor Arcana section, and have it precede the Suit of Cups (I went in the order of Cups, Pentacles, Swords and Wands because it seems to be the customary order, but now I wonder if people have any preferences about the order of the suits) - but I decided against it because I thought it might break up the flow too much, so even though the number system and the Court Card personalities are strictly about the Minor Arcana, they form part of the first section. This way you basically have two major sections in the book: the first one providing basic information and featuring all digital illustrations, and the second one is a handful of digital illustrations to introduce the cards, followed by the traditional Rider Waite card illustrations.

I'm really happy with the final structure(s), I think they all worked out for the best!

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[driftward]

FFXIV Write 2021 Masterpost

Better late than never. 2021 was the first year I participated in FFXIV Write. A lot of these stories are non-canonical, as I use FFXIV Write events as a chance to feel things out and try to see whether or not some early thoughts of mine will gel and/or stick. They still have a special place in my heart though and I am rather fond of all of them.

Also this is where it all began.

Foster: An early attempt to make an entry point for Nyx. Didn't stick, but is sort~of moving in the right direction.

Aberrant: More Nyx hours. I feel better about this one, and will probably keep it as part of their canon. Maybe in November? But I digress.

Scale: A Dragonsong war haiku

Baleful: A poem about primals

An extra credit day (unused)

Avatar: One of the first things I ever wrote for Zoissette; her speech patterns would change as I refined her, her behaviour and personality only shifted slightly. Also, arguably the beginning of the end for me.

Speculate: And Klynt's (who belongs to @saesama) first appearance. This is a dumb conversation (affectionate).

Adroit: A story in which we take a brief look into a day in the life of the true hero of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

Friable: Urianger knows how fragile all possible futures are.

Heady: Nyx in their element, before they have to fulfill their purpose.

Preaching to the choir: Zoissette deals with the inquisition.

An extra credit day (unused)

Oneirophrenia: An Echo awakening; written for Nyx, but I eventually decided it was non-canonical for them. I still really like what I did here, and may find a way to repurpose it one of these days.

Commend: A short bit between Tataru and Zoissette, cleaning up after a banquet.

Thunderous: Nyx defends their scientists. I swear I keep coming back to this in my unfinished works, refining it, wanting to leave it alone but I can't. This is the first original form though. How it'll eventually wind up, I do not yet know.

Crane: A short bit between Zoissette and Klynt. Despite its shortness, I feel it really helps establish the tenor of their relationship.

Destruct: The arc of the life of Fordola rem Lupis.

Devil's Advocate: I will finish this one day. Zoissette sure is having a day in Ishgard.

An extra credit day (unused)

Petrichor: The first day of the rest of Nyx's life. This one I know I intend to rewrite.

Feckless: Zoissette flirts with danger. I did not know it at the time, but this is where the keel was laid.

Fluster: I feel like we settled on this being non-canon? But this is a funny story we made up to justify Klynt and Zoissette having an in-game wedding (@saesama wanted the two-seater chocobo)

Soul: A glance at Zoissette's particular Echo quirk. A look into all her possible pasts.

Illustrious: Zoissette absolutely hates being the center of attention, and Klynt is not at all helpful about that.

Silver Lining: More possible Nyx backstory, but tangled and mixed up. The scientist names are wrong here.

An extra credit day (unused)

Benthos: Nyx explored the underwater areas around Doma, and delights in what they find. Oh, and maybe delayed an attempted rebellion. This is also where they first pick up the moniker that would eventually become their adopted last name.

Bow: Stephanivien enlists Zoissette to the machinest cause. Unfortunately, I myself never quite took to the job.

Debonair: The Thancred Five Girlfriend Trainwreck Pileup

Abstracted: What is Zoissette, anyroad?

Side Abstraction: I used Nyx's POV to build upon one of @saesama's FFXIV write entries. Nyx wishes people were more predictable.

[microficmay]

Week 3: Haiku Challenge

Write a haiku and include it in your microfic. Haikus are 17-syllable poems written in a 5/7/5 syllable count.

This challenge can be combined with @hp-poetry-fest which we highly recommend checking out!!!

Examples

I'm bemused at the  familiarity with  which you greet others; a beaming smile here, a warm wave there. But I'm glad you do, or how else  could I have gone from shy, confused, but pleased stranger to "your precious love"?

— here & there [Luna/Ginny, 40 words] by @crazybutgood

A haiku, from Draco to Harry: Dat ass though, it is firmly the most gorgeous ass to ever exist. Draco shakes his head and crosses out the first draft. Something isn’t right. Your backside, it is plumper than peaches, sweeter than honey. Lovely. Hmm… nope. Something is still missing. Draco crumbles the piece of parchment and tosses it carelessly on the ground. Your arse is perfect; I cannot live without it. Please, sit on my face. Oh, yes. Perfect. Draco attaches it to his owl’s leg and sends it on its way. Now all he has to do is wait.

— Dat Ass [Draco/Harry, 100 words] by @lumosatnight

🫶

Prompts

Info

FAQ

AO3

[minti-tales]

Writer's Game: First Sentences

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

Tagged by @autumnslance ♥️

Tagging: @circle-woman, @ranekvilmas, @trixcuomo, @darbiebot, and @bread-elf.

This is going to take some digging, but let me see what I got. And thank you for the tag! It's nice to see people reading my offerings.

I could've sworn there was another Suzaku writing in my blog, but I can't find it. I'll give you a cookie if you can dig it up for me!

Edit: FOUND IT! On Sabbac's blog. Unfortunately, it was posted in September, so it doesn't count for this meme. :\

"Lost Things," posted 3/8/23. A short about Suzaku and the WoL.

"There were no feathers on the windowsill today. Same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before."

2. "Untitled," posted 2/24/23. A letter from the esteemed Lady Frangelica Treleaux to Lord Edmont Fortemps. I tend to make these things very formal.

"From the desk of Lady Frangelica Treleaux."

3. "And Now We Say Good-Night," posted 11/17/22. Zoissette gets time with her Scion.

"I don't know what to tell you, other than that she's been lying on the fainting couch for hours, not really moving."

4. "DWC, Day 7 - Endless," posted 11/26/22. Zeragosa the dragon takes to new skies, and Sabbac the troll gets her happily ever after.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the portal to Dalaran."

5. "DWC, Day 6 - Unnatural," posted 11/25/22. Caramelle the Lightforged entertains at the Darkmoon Faire.

"Gather round, children of all ages! Come close. I promise I don't bite."

6. "DWC, Day 5 - Lush," posted 11/24/22. Dakora the Tauren writes about Pilgrim's Bounty in a haiku

"This day is for thanks"

7. "DWC, Day 4 - Children," posted 11/23/22. Belle "Anne" Fairweather continues a cycle of familial violence.

"Through heavy rains and lingering clouds of blight, Belle Anne flew, her raven form giving her the speed she needed tonight."

8. "DWC, Day 3 - Mortality," posted 11/22/22. Satoyo Ironpaw, an aging Pandaren, gives a tavern speech.

"Friends! Friends, family. How wonderful it is that we are gathered here at one of the finest eating establishments in all of Pandaria – no, the whole of Azeroth!"

9. "DWC, Day 2 - Orbit," posted 11/21/22. Goblin engineering at their finest. I don't have a good summary for this writing.

"Field Notes! Official! For Grunilda Torchlite (with an e, babe, that’s how I fucking roll)."

10. "DWC, Day 1 - Neglect," posted 11/20/22. This was the first writing where I was ending Sabbac's story.

"Sabbac, was, at this moment, surrounded by dark tan boxes in her Silvermoon studio apartment."