sunday hours

anonymous asked:

What do you think lazy Sunday mornings would be like with Finn/Rey/Poe?

General Organa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Rey.”

There was a profound and deep silence in the hangar, interrupted only by the intermittent beep and whir of mech droids, doing their daily maintenance on the other x-wings. Leia sighed.

“Rey, I can see you.”

Very slowly, the rest of Rey’s head appeared over the edge of the cockpit. “Good morning, General,” she said with a sheepish smile.

“I was under the impression that I ordered you, along with Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn, to remove yourself from duty for the next three cycles before you dropped dead of exhaustion,” Leia says dryly. “Am I mistaken?”

“Um—no, General—”

“So either you ignored a direct order from your commanding general, or you’re not working on an x-wing at,” Leia idly checked her chronometer, “seven-hundred hours.”

Rey’s expression was doing something complicated, torn between amusement and vague embarrassment. “In my defense, General, I had to be awake much earlier on Jakku to beat the sun and the other scavengers. It’s simply habit by now.”

Leia snorted. “Also, you thought that no one would be around to notice your flagrant disobedience.”

“No, I’m sticking with my first answer,” Rey said firmly.

“And Commander Dameron and Lieutenant Finn? I suppose they’re still asleep in your quarters, since neither of them share your desert upbringing.”

It was funny to watch Rey school her face into blankness. “Of course, General. Why would they disobey an order from you?”

Leia did laugh at that. “Remind me to get someone from Intel to teach you how to lie convincingly. After your temporary suspension is up,” she added pointedly, when Rey perked up. “Go to bed, Rey.”

Honestly, Leia could forgive everyone who had assumed Rey was Luke’s daughter. They pulled the exact same face whenever they were annoyed, and just barely refraining from whining about it.

(Maybe it was a Jedi thing.)

.

Leia wandered into the command center without looking up from her datapad. It always benefited her to get through the previous day’s transmits before first shift began in earnest; otherwise she would be dealing with the backlog all week.

She marked a message from the ambassador to Brindisi for further follow-up and hummed, pleased. “If I look up and either of you is standing at the command console, I will have you dragged to medical and personally ensure that Major Calonia doses you with a sedative.”

There was a pause, then a flurry of datapads being gathered up and frantic whispering, the ping! of a file being saved to the console. A very quiet, “go, go, go,” along with boots scuffling on the duracrete.

When Leia looked up, there was no one in the command center except her, and the fading after-image of a holo battleplan. DAMERON, CMD., FINN, LT. obligingly blinked on the screen for a moment before it went dark.

Leia smiled slightly to herself, and went back to the transmits.

.

The next morning, she found Finn reorganizing the storeroom. At six hundred twenty hours. “That is on-duty work, Lieutenant,” she said, almost startling him into falling off the ladder. “And I’m fairly certain you are currently off-duty.”

Finn’s blank expression was much better than Rey’s. “General, with all due respect, is there any way I can convince you to sleep in an hour or two?”

“Funny,” Leia said. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

.

Rey had updated the software for all the droids in the maintenance bay at some point during the night; it was time for Leia to call in the big blasters.

…….unfortunately, “the big blasters” were on their eighth run-through on the x-wing simulator. Leia watched Poe dispassionately, noting that the first run-through was timestamped 00512. “General!” Poe said, after he completed the run, and tugged his helmet off. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. Something I can do?”

“No,” Leia said finally. “No, just letting you know that your suspension is up tomorrow. Please be aware that if you, Rey, or Lieutenant Finn ever show up incapacitated to the point of being unable to fulfill your obligations again, I will take drastic measures.”

He regarded her warily. “May I ask what those are, General?”

“I’ll personally shove a sed-pack up your ass, Dameron. Or worse,” Leia said, cocking an eyebrow at him, “I’ll make all of you talk to a minder until you stop waking each other up with your nightmares.”

Poe, like Rey, has never been a very good liar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, General,” he says, fitting the sim helmet back over his head. His next words are muffled—”But I’ll take it under advisement.”

You live in a world where gravity shuts off every Sunday for 24 hours. While coming home from work on a Friday afternoon, it suddenly shuts off ahead of schedule.

“#blackhistorymonth #harriettubman would make her escapes on Saturdays, which bought her a one-day head start because wanted posters could not legally be posted on Sundays – and twenty-four hours was all she needed to leave her enemies in her dust. Despite the fact that there was a $40,000 reward for the "black ghost” (a figure that today equates to a cool $4 mil), she was never caught, never defeated, and never lost a single person she escorted to freedom. #badass"-Loni Love

10

Let me share with you, the livestreaming experience we had last weekend <3 Let’s recap:

First off, we have a TobexPucca comic strip; about Tobe’s tiny nipples. (Everyone made fun of them over the stream so that’s where it all began.)

Then we have some TobexPucca love children.

Next up, we have Garu who broke after the what if situation where Pucca ends up with Tobe. Yes, he marries Won. Then they have a few kids, Garu jr, Garu jr jr and finally Garu jr jr jr. (there’s a 4th but everyone forgot about him.) And then they grow old together and their son Garu jr. ends up a really hot rooster.

And that was our livestream this weekend; I hope you decide to hang out next time! <3 

There may or may not be a livestream this Sunday (NZ time) depending on whether or not I feel exhausted from the 24 hour comic marathon I’m participating in at my course this Friday (24 comic pages in 24 hours, yes, I am crazy.) Hopefully I’ll be there! <3 But I’ll let you know if I’m not haha~

Hope you’ve enjoyed this post~! xo

(And yes, my humour somewhat reverted back to my BULLY/Canis Canem Edit phase during my livestream >v>;;;)

4

there’s nothing I can do

i’m helpless without you

HBD!

This is for @bittylicious, one of the sweetest, most supportive people I’ve ever come across, who should win all the tumblr awards for best tags ever.  Happy birthday, love.  Don’t worry, you’ll always be a dancing queen.

*** 

Walking into Jack’s apartment didn’t hold the same thrill.  Not today.  Not on his birthday, when Jack was on a roadie, and Bitty wouldn’t be seeing him until Sunday evening–just hours before Bitty had to be back at Samwell.

It wasn’t the longest he’d gone without seeing Jack.  Hell, it wasn’t even the first birthday Jack had missed, but it stung.  It stung when he remembered walking into the haus, seeing Betsy II, knowing it had been Jack’s idea.  He remembered Jack’s warm arms around him, being able to cry his happy tears right into Jack’s chest, and not feel ashamed.

Last year had been quiet.  Bitty’s birthday had fallen on a weekend where Jack had one home game.  They had take out and Bitty had unwrapped a ridiculous amount of Le Creuset bakeware.  Then Jack had unwrapped Bitty.

This year Bitty was alone.  He was alone with a text message on his phone reading, I’m sorry I can’t be there, bud.  Feel free to enjoy the apartment though.  I’ll see you Sunday and we can have a little time to celebrate.

Bitty knew he ought to appreciate it for what it was.  Jack was trying, and Bitty supported him unconditionally.  He was more than proud, and in a way knowing Jack was happy in his career, in his relationship, in his life, was a gift in itself.

But it still felt lonely.

“It’s my party and I cry if I want to, cry if I want to,” he sang to himself as he dropped his overnight bag on the ground by the kitchen table.  He shook his head.  “Knock it off,” he chided himself.  “Who are you, Parse?”

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It’s late October, 2015. Midterms have been survived, and the hockey season’s only just getting started. Lardo and Chowder have figured out that they can, in fact, stand sharing a bathroom with each other (which is really good because they were both a little worried about it; not worried enough to be having second thoughts about moving into the Haus, not by a long shot. But. When the bathroom is between your rooms and doesn’t have a door to the hall, you can’t exactly decide a month in that one of you is sharing with Bitty now because everyone will be happier that way), and are currently in what are rapidly becoming their respective spots on the green couch.

The haus is otherwise empty (Bitty’s in Providence, Ransom and Holster said they were going to the library), and they’re both doing homework. It’s 2:33 on a Sunday afternoon. After an hour or so of companionable silence, Chowder says, without looking up, “some days I wish my parents hadn’t let me quit Chinese school.”

Lardo replies, also without looking up, “yeah?”

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