![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/1SCOVji:
I see that my queue is just now spitting out all the posts I stuck into it with tag-flailing about nobody writing me any RPF with BB-8. Yes yes I wrote a little more of that yesterday. Adam showed up and lurked unnervingly, pointing out security concerns. I don’t know why, I’m not a celebrity person or an RPF person and I have no idea what these actual humans do in their actual lives except what Tumblr osmosis tells me. I have a rule that if I Google them I do not click anything, I only read the previews of the results, so that is the level of research I am allowed to do; anything else must be entirely fabricated. So before anyone gets excited, that’s the level of realism I allow in RPF. Basically I know your age, your height, what you look like with your shirt off if you’ve been in Hollywood any amount of time, and then whatever the first paragraph of your Wikipedia page says. (Yes okay I know more than that about Oscar Isaac but that’s because all y’all have been obsessed for so long.)
And no. Nobody’s gonna fuck the robot. I just– I can’t do that. Someone else should. But I already feel like someone else should write the RPF for me to read it guiltily and not comment or leave kudos, because I am that kind of piece of shit, so– there you go. (My shameful prejudices, laid bare. I’m not ready for this. I am a piece of shit, I just never had to admit it to myself before.)
(Yes fine I will probably do a segment from BB-8′s POV and then post the whole thing if I can find a punchline, and it will be hideously embarrassing in all kinds of unexamined ways. Also it will be way too long. That is my M.O.)
In the meantime! I wrote a 4k scene for no reason describing domestic backyard chicken raising on Yavin 4 with a shirtless scantily-clad Poe covered in chicken blood waxing nostalgic about his childhood to a confused but hungry Kare Kun who is really not sure if she’s okay with how hot she’s finding him. This is clearly not going anywhere but is ripe flashback material for Kun, who needs a larger role, clearly. I was going to write a scene where Iolo is actually present on Yavin 4 for the chanticlo processing but somehow having Poe and Kare sort of on their own and boldly improvising worked out better.
“More importantly,” Dameron said, “you must never speak of this. Firstly nobody will ever believe you, but secondly, I will consider it a personal betrayal if you tell anyone where we got these chickens.”
“You’re seriously going to kill and butcher them,” Kare said.
“I am,” Dameron said. “I know how to do that. But you can’t tell anyone. If they ask, the locals in that village over there were super nice to us and you can just sort of waggle your eyebrows when anyone asks why they gave us half a dozen chickens. Clear?”
“Clear,” Kare said, a little hesitantly.
“All right,” Dameron said. He went back to the lean-to they’d made to sleep in, and shucked off most of his clothes, and came back wearing sandals and a tiny pair of shorts and nothing else.
“What the fuck,” Kare said.
“I’m not going to try to explain why my flight suit has bloodstains,” he said, completely unconcerned by the fact that he was mostly naked and fucking glorious-looking, like he had no right to look. “There’s going to be blood and shit everywhere and it’s easier to wash it off myself than off my clothes.”
“I don’t,” Kare said. “What?”
“I recommend you do the same,” he said. “We don’t have that much soap. It’s warm out. Skin doesn’t stain as easily as cloth. Come on, the water’s boiling.”
Kare stared at him, at his lean-muscled torso, at the appealing curves of his thighs. “Fuck’s sake,” she said, and took her shirt off. “This isn’t even the first time I’ve had this response to your mostly-nude form.”
More crucially, though, I finally stopped writing this to finish the porn section of the Poe/Hux thing, and now I am staring down the finished document and trying to figure out how to format it, and most importantly what to call it, because, what.
I don’t know. It doesn’t fit anywhere. I don’t know.
ADHD? No way do I have ADHD! That’s not a real thing! You know girls don’t get that.
I see that my queue is just now spitting out all the posts I stuck into it with tag-flailing about nobody writing me any RPF with BB-8. Yes yes I wrote a little more of that yesterday. Adam showed up and lurked unnervingly, pointing out security concerns. I don’t know why, I’m not a celebrity person or an RPF person and I have no idea what these actual humans do in their actual lives except what Tumblr osmosis tells me. I have a rule that if I Google them I do not click anything, I only read the previews of the results, so that is the level of research I am allowed to do; anything else must be entirely fabricated. So before anyone gets excited, that’s the level of realism I allow in RPF. Basically I know your age, your height, what you look like with your shirt off if you’ve been in Hollywood any amount of time, and then whatever the first paragraph of your Wikipedia page says. (Yes okay I know more than that about Oscar Isaac but that’s because all y’all have been obsessed for so long.)
And no. Nobody’s gonna fuck the robot. I just– I can’t do that. Someone else should. But I already feel like someone else should write the RPF for me to read it guiltily and not comment or leave kudos, because I am that kind of piece of shit, so– there you go. (My shameful prejudices, laid bare. I’m not ready for this. I am a piece of shit, I just never had to admit it to myself before.)
(Yes fine I will probably do a segment from BB-8′s POV and then post the whole thing if I can find a punchline, and it will be hideously embarrassing in all kinds of unexamined ways. Also it will be way too long. That is my M.O.)
In the meantime! I wrote a 4k scene for no reason describing domestic backyard chicken raising on Yavin 4 with a shirtless scantily-clad Poe covered in chicken blood waxing nostalgic about his childhood to a confused but hungry Kare Kun who is really not sure if she’s okay with how hot she’s finding him. This is clearly not going anywhere but is ripe flashback material for Kun, who needs a larger role, clearly. I was going to write a scene where Iolo is actually present on Yavin 4 for the chanticlo processing but somehow having Poe and Kare sort of on their own and boldly improvising worked out better.
“More importantly,” Dameron said, “you must never speak of this. Firstly nobody will ever believe you, but secondly, I will consider it a personal betrayal if you tell anyone where we got these chickens.”
“You’re seriously going to kill and butcher them,” Kare said.
“I am,” Dameron said. “I know how to do that. But you can’t tell anyone. If they ask, the locals in that village over there were super nice to us and you can just sort of waggle your eyebrows when anyone asks why they gave us half a dozen chickens. Clear?”
“Clear,” Kare said, a little hesitantly.
“All right,” Dameron said. He went back to the lean-to they’d made to sleep in, and shucked off most of his clothes, and came back wearing sandals and a tiny pair of shorts and nothing else.
“What the fuck,” Kare said.
“I’m not going to try to explain why my flight suit has bloodstains,” he said, completely unconcerned by the fact that he was mostly naked and fucking glorious-looking, like he had no right to look. “There’s going to be blood and shit everywhere and it’s easier to wash it off myself than off my clothes.”
“I don’t,” Kare said. “What?”
“I recommend you do the same,” he said. “We don’t have that much soap. It’s warm out. Skin doesn’t stain as easily as cloth. Come on, the water’s boiling.”
Kare stared at him, at his lean-muscled torso, at the appealing curves of his thighs. “Fuck’s sake,” she said, and took her shirt off. “This isn’t even the first time I’ve had this response to your mostly-nude form.”
More crucially, though, I finally stopped writing this to finish the porn section of the Poe/Hux thing, and now I am staring down the finished document and trying to figure out how to format it, and most importantly what to call it, because, what.
I don’t know. It doesn’t fit anywhere. I don’t know.
ADHD? No way do I have ADHD! That’s not a real thing! You know girls don’t get that.
