star-anise: dragondicks: dragondicks: how come the robots in star wars are property even though...

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star-anise:

dragondicks:

dragondicks:

how come the robots in star wars are property even though they’re very obviously sentient and can feel emotions?? what the fuck. why do none of the movies point out how fucked up that is

after a full night’s sleep this is still bugging me tbh like there’s this scene in the first movie where r2d2 and c3po are visibly scared of being taken apart by jawas and i guess its supposed to be quirky?? but it comes across as scary???? and in the mainstream movie canon nobody ever goes “hey why did we program these subservient machines to have personalities and identities and to be able to feel fear and distress” this is some brave little toaster shit except it’s somehow gone unnoticed in an absurdly popular sci fi movie series with a plot that revolves around morality and justice. leia how could you allow this

Well to be fair, this is also a universe that allows human slavery, so…

I have a lot of feelings about this too and they keep creeping in and threatening to derail the stories I actually mean to write, which are largely about humans kissing one another.
Should I scrap all that and just write about droid freedom fighters? Because I kind of want to.

I am staying the course and finishing the fic before I post anything. I am letting beta-readers take

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I am staying the course and finishing the fic before I post anything. I am letting beta-readers take their time. I am going to methodically go back and make edits. 

I am going to have a fucking title before I post it, and it’s not going to be unwieldy and long. I will have a theme. I will be organized. 

This is hard. 

(I will stop looking at other authors and seeing how popular their stories are and thinking that means my stories don’t need to get told. Listen, you, a lot of people read your shit and like it so shut your face.)
(I absolutely won’t throw this over for the modern AU that popped into my head today while I was doing something else. Poe is a jaded detective with a secret passion for a cause, Finn a former child soldier who got himself out, and Rey was raised by a cult and has inexplicable powers…)

I will chill the fuck out and finish something for fucking once. This only seems dry because you’re writing it. Get to the point and you can come back and cut the things that don’t serve it. You just have to find the point first. 

Chewie sighed, and bent over Poe. “You look kinda rough,” he said.

“I feel kinda rough,” Poe answered.

“C’mere,” Chewie said, and picked him up. Poe managed to move a hand enough to wrap it around Chewbacca’s arm as the world spun wildly. “You’re a lot heavier than the last time I did this.”

“I don’t remember you ever doing this before,” Poe said. Squeezing his eyes shut didn’t help but he did it anyway.

“Not surprising,” Chewie said, “you were probably about eight. It was that time you broke your leg?”

“Oh yeah,” Poe said. He’d forgotten that. “Fuckin’, Ben, got stuck up a tree and I fell out trying to get him down.” He tried to pry his fingers out of Chewie’s arm but instinct wanted him to hang on tight.

“You should have just come and gotten us,” Chewbacca said. “I just reached up and got him.”

“In hindsight,” Poe said, “that would have been a better idea, but do recall, I was eight.”

Chewie grunted with the effort, but lifted him up into a bunk set into the wall over a semicircular lounge with a holo-table in the middle. “I haven’t shed in this bed,” he said, “you’ll probably be comfortable here.”

Poe took a moment to peel his fingers out of Chewie’s fur. “Thanks, man,” he said.

Layers. I am wearing: Ankle socks Thigh-high...

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Layers. I am wearing:
Ankle socks
Thigh-high socks
Underpants
Capri tights
Velvet leggings
High-waisted gold glitter derbyskinz shorts
Knee-length skirt
Knee-length tunic
Bra
Elastic bralette
Camisole
Long-sleeved shirt
¾-sleeve crop top with dinosaurs on it
Wrist warmer socks
Long-sleeved v-neck sweater
Silk scarf
Wool-and-silk knitted cowl
Wool hat

My favorite part is how you just can’t tell. Sometimes I try to make the layering obvious, but often I don’t bother. I’m fat anyway, it’s not like the added bulk matters.

By the way, my blog is five years old this week, and I started it at first solely to participate in Fatshion February. So– there’s that.

Update: kinda wish I had a sweatshirt.

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Update: kinda wish I had a sweatshirt.