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Rob Woodcox artist Here for the queer, BIPOC and Mother Nature México | NYC | LA

#photography #aesthetic #character insp

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The way people talk about Gale Hawthorne makes me think that most Hunger Games fans didn't understand the story.

#meta #fandom: the hunger games

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redid my old "attire with jewels made to look like you're bleeding" post

#fashion #jewellery #oc: adrasteia crane

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hi hi. loving the disaster that is leia’s pregnancy. may i suggest leia catching an unexpected glimpse of boba’s preparations for the child?

[part one] [part two] [part three]

Leia's not sure why she's still on Tatooine.

The heat makes her skin clammy and disgusting. There's not enough water for a proper shower, let alone a bath, and the sonics are turning her hair dry and brittle. She can barely leave her room for fear of being recognized—no one else needs to know that Boba Fett is fucking a washed-up Core princess. And everywhere she goes, Fennec Shand is watching her, wishing her dead.

But she is here, and that's what's important really—she gave up on hypotheticals when she asked Han to marry her, stars in her eyes and her heart so full of love for him that she thought she might cry, and he ran to the other side of the galaxy to suck Lando's dick. She's here, and fourteen minutes ago she was going so crazy cooped up in her room that she decided to go exploring, and now Boba Fett is staring at her from where he's bent over a desk with a soldering iron. And the door is sliding shut behind her with a snick.

"What are you doing?"

Boba leans back, rubbing at his neck. There's a streak of grease up the left side of his face, and a thin sheen of sweat across his head. "Prepping."

"For?" Leia asks, stepping closer. But she can already see the answer.

It's a mobile—or the pieces for one, anyways: rough bits of duratin cut into the shape of mythosaurs, discarded parts from an old T-E series slugthrower, and pieces of some woody root with runes carved into them. He's already got the frame lying to the side, sharp edges of the scrap metal shaved smooth, and chains that sure as hell look like gold coiled neatly, ready to be hung.

"For the baby," Boba says, and that's what finally breaks her heart.

She'd held it together through the long ride, through Fennec's thousand cutting comments and duller teeth, through the pitiful excuse for a negotiation she'd forced them into—and before, through Han's return, his apology, his proposal, his pretending to want everything she wanted because he didn't want to be a screw up for the rest of his life.

Leia wants this baby—wants it so bad it hurts—and that's the bitch of it, because she's a great politician but she'd be a shit mother. She's too busy to care for a child and too much of a perfectionist to let it make mistakes—the only thing she could do is love it, really, and that's not enough. Maybe she could have managed more in another life, maybe if her parents hadn't been blasted into nothingness by her horrible gene donor of a father and she had someone who knew what to do—someone who remembered how to do anything but tear things apart and pray they could be rebuilt better. But she doesn't.

Leia knows herself—knows if she thought she had a single chance not cocking the whole thing up she'd take the kid and try to do it right, and damn the rest of it to hell. But she'll fuck it up—there's no doubt about that—and the only thing worse than having the baby and not getting to keep it, not getting a family, would be not having it at all, so she's here. In a Mandalorian's stronghold. Where he's going to raise her child. And it'll never even know her name.

Leia doesn't collapse on the floor; she has better control than that. But she feels something break inside her chest—some horrible, vital organ keeping her intact. She's not going to die, because she's survived a hell of a lot worse and she still has work to do, but she feels—not that far from it, anyways.

Boba stands up sharply, worry flooding his face.

"Han'll be wondering where I am," she murmurs listlessly, staring at the wall without seeing.

There's a hand on her arm quickly—almost immediately—and she lets herself be led over to a stool to be hovered over.

"What's wrong?" Boba asks. She can feel anxiety flooding out from him, washing over her and dripping into all the grooves in the floor.

Leia lets out a breath, and smiles a tight smile. His eyes are very black and very wide when she looks up at them, but she doesn't let that phase her.

"Nothing," she says lightly. "Pregnancy hormones, you know. I'm sure the fetus is fine."

Men far more stupid than Boba would have seen that for the lie it is; she can't blame him from looking unimpressed.

"I should be getting back to Coruscant," she adds. "I've been gone to long already."

Boba absorbs the information in an impressively short time. He pauses for a second, then nods. "They won't wonder about—" He nods at her stomach.

"I have plenty of friends looking for surrogates," Leia replies. This, at least, she knows how to do. "I'll use one of them as a cover—tell the press I'm doing them a solid."

"And the birth?"

Leia's mouth tightens inadvertently. "I'll do it off-world, find someone I can trust to bring you the baby—tell everybody else it was a stillbirth."

Boba is silent for a very long moment. He's deliberating, Leia thinks, but about what she can't tell.

"Alright," he says at last, and Leia hardens her heart and stands up. "Alright."

#fandom: star wars #other people's writing

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Claudius & Eibhlin for @penfoldx

in which anthropological study subs in for discussing one's private anxieties

(h/t to attractiveness anon & @literallyjustanyurlatthispoint for partial inspiration)

it's @penfoldx's birthday! have some ridiculousness

also found at DW here

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The notebook lay on the coffee table, half buried under various tomes (that was a new word Claudius learned and liked to throw around, tomes) on rabbit husbandry, one corner peeking out just enough to draw his curiosity.

Eibhlin called them ‘composition notebooks’ and claimed every child in Three used them, which cracked Claudius up — imagine writing enough in school you needed multiple notebooks — but sure, why not. It was the genius district after all. She’d had to make do with recycled paper for a while after the war but now she could finally import the good stuff. Which meant Claudius kept finding them everywhere, experiment logs and local recipes and logical reasons why Brutus should let her keep a Village bear (pending).

This one, worryingly, carried the simple title ‘Observations’.

It could be private, unleashing the wrath of heaven if Claudius cracked open the cover. Or it could be a topic too awkward or embarrassing for Eibhlin to raise on her own, leaving this as the most convenient and least emotionally excruciating way of broaching the issue. The real question, which one?

With Misha, this would be deliberate psychological warfare. With Eibhlin, the lines blurred.

“Eh, fuck it.” Claudius flipped open the book. He could always cave on a fifth rabbit if need be.

Later that evening Eibhlin crept up behind him in the kitchen, impressively silent as always. Claudius resisted the automatic impulse to flip the chef’s knife around into throat-slitting position (years of post-Arena healing undone by ground warfare, now finally uncurling a second time) and laid the blade flat against the cutting board.

“Hold out your hands,” Eibhlin said. Her voice twinkled in a way that those who’d never lived with rabbits might call childlike innocence.

Claudius, on the other hand, shared his living space with several rabbits, and left innocence behind a long time ago. “I am making dinner,” he said without turning around. “Should I still hold out my hands?”

A pause, in which Claudius envisioned the pout growing like fog over the lake in early morning, and yeah, he thought so. “Misha says you are a party pooper.”

“Ironic,” Claudius said dryly, but while he’d acquired several mental illnesses over the years, finding ‘wee little rabbit poops’ endearing was not one he’d picked up along the way, sponsors save him. “I’m sure there will be more cute poops tomorrow. Do I want to know why you’ve been polling people in town about what they find attractive? If we’re hosting an orgy I should go out for snacks.”

Silence of a very different character this time. Claudius spent a long time cataloguing the pauses in their conversations, learning when to send for Beetee, when to backtrack and apologize, when to wait it out. “Ah,” Eibhlin said. “That was careless.”

“I thought maybe it was on purpose,” Claudius said. He slipped the knife back into the block and turned around, risking embarrassing Eibhlin with eye contact just to let her see he wasn’t pissed off. “Like one of those things you hid as a hint or something. I can pretend I didn’t see it if you want.”

Eibhlin’s gaze shuttered. “Don’t be asinine,” she said, her tone acerbic. “You do not need to insult us both. I am conducting — research. Anthropology. Desired physical traits in this district seem to be consistent in a way that extends beyond what I had assumed to be Village sampling bias.”

He’d been pretty good at keeping his expression neutral and non-judgemental, but Claudius felt his eyebrows creep up in spite of himself. “You mean we’re a bunch of lunkheads so you thought we were poisoning your data?”

Her ears turned bright pink. “I meant —“ but oh, looks like Claudius wasn’t the only one to pick up a few tricks over the years. Eibhlin stopped, narrowed her eyes. “You are attempting to distract me by manufacturing outrage. Despite the willfully reductive phrasing, yes. This is a community of athletic outliers. You are not representative. I have made many efforts not to generalize across the population, and so this one has surprised me.”

It felt absurd to have this conversation while Eibhlin stood in front of him with a handful of rabbit dung, and so Claudius ducked down for the compost bin. Stepping out of the way for Eibhlin to wash her hands gave him a second to think about whatever the hell this was. “Is it really so weird? We move rocks around and make guns in factories and kill people. Grr, argh, strong people hot.”

This time the impatience nearly skewered him. “But that is the point, it is not that. Perhaps superficially, for short-term liaisons, but not partnerships. There is a reason why attractiveness in Three is strongly weighted toward intelligence. Physically symmetrical but intellectually bankrupt partners will not create a stable or successful household.”

Claudius blinked. “Ouch?”

“Do not —“

“Okay, okay. “ He held up his hands. Three-stupid was not universal-stupid, they’d had this argument before and reopening it now wouldn’t help anyone. “So you’re trying to figure out what is the … biological imperative … behind what Twos find attractive?”

See, he could do it too.

Now she hesitated. He probably should have moved this conversation to the living room or found her a rabbit to cuddle before starting this conversation, but more fool him, now they had to have it in the middle of the kitchen with nothing to fiddle with but sharp implements. “Leaving aside the question of whether biological or evolutionary imperatives exist other than as excuses for the creation of sexist binaries — yes. In Three we value intelligence because intelligence is how we survive. I could not understand how brawn could hold the same value in your society.”

“Okay.” Claudius leaned back against the counter, hands braced but open, nonthreatening. “And?”

“It isn’t brawn,” Eibhlin said. “It’s — community. Care. You are a district of physical labourers and physical people, so of course you value those who can take care of each other with your bodies.”

“Sounds kind of like cavemen,” Claudius said, amused in spite of himself. “I’m sure Brutus would agree, though.”

“He did,” Eibhlin said, nose in the air with the delicate air of someone choosing not to take offence, as the bigger person in the room thank you very much. “And Artemisia, once she stopped laughing. She went home with many girls, but she wanted to marry Emory when she was young, and now she is with Devon. That speaks to type.”

“Okay,” he said, again. “I still don’t know what — you don’t just do anthropology. You have to have a thesis.”

Eibhlin’s fingers curled in her sleeves, which — Ah, shit.

This was the part Claudius hated. Speedrunning weeks of research and observations to find whatever tangled mess of emotions had prompted Eibhlin to do this in the first place, because while Claudius might mangle onions or spar with his mentor or call up his friends in a total panic when he had a problem, Eibhlin … well, she did science.

“Okay.” A third time, the jigsaw puzzles falling off the table and clicking together into the most terrifying image of a nightmare clown he’d ever seen, but also the clown was right in front of him looking sad and he had to be very careful not to jump. “So it sounds like … we have the best of both worlds? You’re a super genius and I — well, I can sort of fix the roof, if I have help.”

Eibhlin studied him in silence for several moments, eyes intent and searching, but finally she nodded sharply and the knot in his chest unhooked. “Don’t forget the cooking,” she said. “You have become quite adept.”

“Glad to hear it,” Claudius said. “You want to help? I was still chopping when someone tried to put rabbit poop in my hands.”

“Hm,” Eibhlin said, admitting absolutely nothing, and held out her hand for the knife.

#other people's writing #fandom: the hunger games #other people's ocs

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Luke Skywalker: What was it the Jedi said that got everybody so upset?

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Be kind to each other

Han Solo: Oh yeah that’ll do it

#incorrect quotes #fandom: star wars

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collection of posts for a very specific dynamic

#quotes #relationship insp

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do you have any recommendations for people trying to learn more about how societies organize around agriculture? tumblr seems to think Permaculture is the Solution to Everything, and yeah it's nice-sounding, but if i want to have a decent handle on the actual scale of problems vs solutions, where would a good starting place be?

OKAY SO I got this a month ago and thought “hmm I should think about that” and periodically re-remember I should think about how to answer so I am finally just going to go with what I can say off the top of my head. (ETA: turns out I can say quite a bit off the top of my head, this got pretty long)

Mostly this is a list of things to think about when someone starts talking about their Best Kind Of Agriculture, and then I have a couple book recs.

Keep reading

#research #worldbuilding insp #ash's tbr pile #agriculture #farming

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It’s always “why did you commit regicide” and “your covered in blood” and never How was the treason The treason looked fun was it fun

#character insp

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Tada! Dye-painted wool felt cape, part of my emperor moth comission.

#fashion

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in star wars fandom how is everything about anakin’s fall always everyone else’s fault except the guy who personally designed it to be a no hit run of Sith Apprentice Generator IV

#lmao #fandom discourse #fandom: star wars

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Does that mean we get a part three?

(And I totally ask you make it horny. Like just filthy. If you need my permission you have it. Just full horny preggo sex. Let the beast out)

[part one] [part two]

"Fuck me," Leia says. She's in Fennec's room, spirits know how she got there, and her face is half in shadow. Her eyes are black, but they're always black. Fennec has never seen them wide and brown and melting; Fennec's never seen her in love.

There are a lot of things she could say back. Part of her wants to kick Leia out. It's not like she has the fucking right, after all—to come back to Tatooine when they'd all made it pretty clear it was a one time thing. To blame Fennec for getting herself knocked up. To dump a kid on Fett—to dump a kid on Fennec—and act like it's their fault she doesn't want to be a mother.

Fennec trades in loyalty. Leia's not loyal to anyone on Tatooine except herself.

"Fine," Fennec says.

(When she's got Leia under her, Leia's nails digging into her scalp and the angle of her knee straining Fennec's hip with every thrust, she leans down further until her mouth is on Leia's neck. And she bites down. Hard.)

#fandom: star wars #other people's writing

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Pretty please can we have a follow up boba/leia/fennec one night stand pregnancy?

(Low-key hoping it's fennecs)

ABSOLUTELY you can have it I am DELIGHTED you asked

[part one]

It's not that she'd never expected to hear from Leia again. She and Boba are effective—terribly effective, as Leia would say—and if they make it long enough it'd only make sense to subcontract for the senate. Clean out some of the hutts still clinging on in their section of the Outer Rim and raise spice taxes once they've got a monopoly. It's a good plan. A long game. The sort of thing Fennec has always excelled at.

But then Leia shows up in her smuggler boyfriend's crappy ship and she's wearing a poncho three sizes too big even though it's pushing 55 out and Fennec has never claimed to be a genius, but she's been around enough to know what's going on.

"I'm not a mother," Fennec says, once they're down deep in the stronghold where the droids don't go and the air is cool and stale.

Leia looks angry when she says that—like it's Fennec's problem, like she shouldn't have fucked her if she hadn't wanted a kid out of it. Rich.

"I don't know what you expect me to do about it," Leia retorts. She's looking for a fight. And maybe that's why she likes that smuggler of hers—he'll always give her a fight, let her argue until she's forgotten what she's worried about.

Fennec stays silent.

Leia stares at her for a second—not a glare, something angrier. More bitter. She opens her mouth, and—

"I am," Boba says. "I could be its father. I would take the child."

Fennec turns to him. "Out here? On Tatooine? It'd be dead in a day."

"I'm a Mandalorian," he replies, as if that answers anything. Maybe for him it does.

Boba turns to Leia, and she looks up at him, unreadable. "Yes. I would be its father."

Leia presses her lips together. Her eyes aren't wet—Fennec doubts she's ever been a crier—but they could have been, maybe. If Leia were a little less cruel. If she were a little less desperate to come out on top. But she'd never have come to Tatooine then, so it doesn't really matter.

"You'd take the child," Leia repeats. "And raise it here."

"It would never need to know who its mother was."

"And if it's not yours?" Leia asks.

Boba looks at her for a moment, silent. "I am a Mandalorian. It will be mine."

"And I would leave it," Leia says. Her eyes are black. "We could never see each other."

"It would be loved. It would be raised well." Boba looks at her a moment longer, and the hard lines around his eyes soften just a little. "What other choice do you have?"

"You could terminate it," Fennec cuts in.

"Thank you, Ms. Shand, for that novel piece of brilliance," Leia bites back, acid-sharp. "We should thank our lucky stars we have your intellect here to save us."

Fennec looks back at her flatly, unimpressed, and watches as something in Leia snaps.

She turns to Boba, straight backed, braids like a crown around her head. "It's yours," Leia says. Her voice doesn't waver even a little. "When I have it, the baby is yours."

#fandom: star wars #other people's writing

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Hi. Me again. I'm asking for more star wars cause I cant figure out what other fandoms your in.

If your ok with poly what about boba, fennec, and leia for number 5?

my ao3 is a good way to see what fandoms I’m for sure comfortable writing for, but anything I’ve blogged about goes

[prompt list]

5. one night stand and falling pregnant au

She kind of gets what Luke means, now, about Tatooine being impossible to escape from. Every time she thinks she's gotten away, it drags her back.

It should have been a one night stand. It was a one night stand—one last hurrah in the blood and sweat of the desert, spice cartels burnt and scattered across, Han on the other side of the galaxy shacking up with some old "buddy" of his. It had been dark and just this side of too cold, and she'd had her mouth halfway down Shand's dick when Fett had walked in and given her that look, black and hot, and it had been all over from there.

And now she's halfway through tearing the senate apart—you can't clean without making a mess first—and the stupid plastic stick is telling her she's two months along, and Han is outside making nice with some idiot diplomat like she asked him, probably saying something about the ring on her finger and how they're settling down, how they're stable, here for good.

The tile is cool against her feet, her mouth pressed into a bitter line as she not-so-idly wonders what exactly happens to senators pregnant with the baby of an outer-rim warlord. Or, she amends, the baby of his right hand.

Outside, Han laughs charmingly, and she bites her tongue until she can't feel it anymore. Then she wraps the test in toilet paper so thick no one will be able to tell what it is, tosses it in the trash shoot, and stands up.

When she looks in the mirror, her hair is perfect. She pastes on a smile and walks back out.

#other people's writing #fandom: star wars

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THE DOCTOR & CLARA DARK WATER   |   DOCTOR WHO

#fandom: dr who #quotes #other people's edits

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Idk if this is just me, but does it seem like the Hunger Games movies left out most of the stuff about food in general?

Maybe I just noticed this because in my first read I was worried that all of them were cannibals, but like… in the movies it seems like they were never actually that hungry. Like, we know that Katniss and Gale have to hunt, and that Peeta gave Katniss the bread, but a lot of the details about just how hungry they were to get to those choices were just… gone. And when they’re in the Capitol on the Victory Tour, they mention the vomit-inducer but it was more of an offhand thing. What got me especially though is that in Mockingjay Pt. 2, their time with Tigris appears to be much shorter, but also… she doesn’t feed them! And from what I remember that was fairly significant in the books, especially considering the position they were in.

In the books, hunger was the driving force of the vast majority of decisions they made. Katniss literally spent a good chunk of her first games desperately searching for water—Haymitch rewarded their performances with food—Katniss described every single thing she eats and primarily characterizes new places based on their food (the Capitol and District 13 especially). TBOSAS supports this even further when you see how even people in the Capitol were starving in the aftermath of the war—that’s why sponsors were added to the game!

I just—the whole series is literally about starvation and what it means to be human, but the movies just focused on love and war.

#fandom: the hunger games #other people's meta #ahh hollywood

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losing my mind over this list of 17th/18th century quaker names

#names #character insp