Poe working out with BB8 but that’s just a bad idea
it’s like one of those work outs when someone sits on your back as you pump iron but.. BB8 is.. round.. and push ups mean he needs more effort to keep on Poe’s back.. soo… silliness ensues :0 are you guys ticklish on your back? I am… to a certain degree :u
this was an interesting angle? like.. i’m quite.. inflexible with my angles and i’ve never tried work out poses.. so this was.. a challenge to some point :) -wipes brow-
[do not tag as kin/me] [do not repost/reuse without permission] [keep the comments on]
Dick:“He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.”
Tim: “I’m pretty much fucked” (The Martian)
Jason: “When you have to kill the same terrorist twice in one week, then there’s either something wrong with your skills or something wrong with your world. And there’s nothing wrong with my skills.”
Damian: “Everyone had always said that John would be a preacher when he grew up, just like his father. It had been said so often that John, without ever thinking about it, had come to believe it himself.” (Go Tell it on the Mountain)
Cass: “I was an ambitious girl child. I knew even then that I had to be, in that environment of thugs, thieves, killers, prostitutes, gamblers – you name it, you’d find it in Trench Town.”
(No Woman, No Cry: My life With Bob Marley)
Babs:“No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be a heroine.”
Duke: “I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.”
– Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children
Steph: "For the better part of my childhood, my professional aspirations were simple–I wanted to be an intergalactic princess.”(Seven Up)
Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.
Aelin didn’t really think twice when Rowan messaged her a few weeks later, one Sunday morning, telling her to dress comfortably for their date. She also didn’t put much thought into it when she asked him what, exactly, his definition of “comfortably” was, and he responded with leggings and a sweater. But she was slightly disappointed she didn’t have to dress up for the evening.
She did, however, raise an eyebrow later that day when Rowan messaged her again, just moments after she’d gotten dressed.
Be there in 5. And make sure you have your skates.
At first, she thought it was a joke. He couldn’t seriously be taking her skating on her day off. The only day off she’d have for a long time.
Practice had been … rough lately. With Nationals coming up in just over a month, and with Aelin still yet to land her triple-triple, she normally left practice in a sour mood. Uncle Weylan said she needed all the practice she could get. So over Christmas break, they were having practice for hours on end every day. If she didn’t land her triple-triple by New Years, they were taking it out of her program.
But sure enough, when Aelin messaged Rowan “seriously buzzard?” he came back with “seriously fireheart.”
So despite the fact that Aelin really wasn’t in the mood for skating at the moment, she made sure to have her skates with her.
“The rink?” She questioned as she climbed out of Rowan’s car. “I figured you’d be taking me to the pond when you told me to bring my skates.”
1) Make a venn diagram with your favourite foods on one side, healthiest foods you can think of on the other side, and healthy foods you love in the middle.
2) Get ahold of some second-hand cookbooks and cooking magazines. Cut out recipes and keep them in a pocket in your journal. Dedicate a few pages for pasting in the recipes you’re most likely to make.
3) Draw and colour little doodles of your favourite healthy raw ingredients. Next time you are shopping for food, remember to pick up some of the things that you drew.
4) Make a collage with the labels from foods that you are proud to eat and enjoy. It will be easier to collage with tiny cut-out sections rather than the whole label.
5) Divide the page into columns. At the top of each column, list a meal you like to cook for yourself. Below each meal, brainstorm additional ingredients that could improve the original meal. Try to replace unhealthy components of the meal with healthier counterparts. Highlight ingredients that appear in multiple columns and keep them in mind next time you are shopping.
6) Make a list of food-related goals. Ie. cook dinner at home at least twice a week, eat at least one vegetarian meal per day, etc. Put a tally next to the goal for every step you take towards achieving it.
7) If you’re journalling at night, try to remember everything you’ve eaten during the day and make a list. Highlight items on the list that you are proud to have eaten. Take a moment to reflect and congratulate yourself for the healthy choices you have made.
8) Make a list of your favourite dips, sauces, and condiments. Pick out a few that seem easiest to make and find recipes for them that use healthy foods and raw ingredients. List the ingredients in your journal and keep them in mind next time you buy groceries.
9) Draw some of your favourite cooking herbs. Beside each herb, make a list of the dishes that taste best with it. Put a checkmark beside each dish after you’ve made it.
10) Brainstorm a list of the benefits and desired outcomes of eating healthy. For each item on the list, dig a little deeper and describe why it is beneficial. For example, beside “better nutrition” you might write about the downsides of poor nutrition.
i can’t believe when shou tucker forgot about his yearly assessment it resulted in his daughter being alchemically tortured then murdered but when ed forgot his assessment he was like iM JUST GONNA FIGHT MY SUPERIOR OFFICER AND PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE
When the light bulb in
his bathroom went out minutes after he moved into his new apartment, it was just
another inconvenience in the long list of problems that had been accumulating
since Andrew was born. He had never been given a break before and he didn’t
expect to be given one now. If it were anything other than the bathroom, he wouldn’t
bother with it, but there was no window or other light source and he’d had enough
experience using bathrooms in the dark as a teenager to ever want to do it
So he left the boxes, which
had been rooted through for essentials like cigarettes and the coffee machine
and then left haphazardly across the floor, and stuffed his keys and wallet
into his pocket for a trip to the dollar store down the street.
He forwent taking the stairs
in favour of the elevator. His apartment was on the fifth floor of a
seven-storey complex, chosen for a small balcony with a thick cement railing overlooking
a dog park. It was by design, although perhaps not one Bee would approve of;
she had expressed concern over the amount of time he had spent on the roof
during his last years at Palmetto and suggested that he might be fixating. It
didn’t matter that that was his intention, she said, that he was waiting for the
harrowing drop to the ground to hold the same trickle of fear it once did; he
should be working on healthy behaviours now so that when he did start feeling
things again, he would have a routine set up. Bee had always been more
optimistic than Andrew.
When the elevator
doors slid open into the light of the atrium, he barely had time for his eyes
to adjust before a flash of red and the smell of sweat assaulted him. He
reacted with the instincts he’d picked up from seven years of Exy and shoved
his shoulder into whoever it was, pushing back hard enough to send them crashing
to the floor below.
This story is completely fictional and all for fun!
That was the only word that could fully describe the room that just mere hours earlier had been alive with the hustle and bustle of nurses and doctors. Now, only a dimly lit lamp mounted on the wall near her hospital bed illuminated the darkened room.
At just after two in the morning, he was finally attempting to get comfortable in the leather recliner next to her bed. He knew if he woke her and asked her to scoot over, she would, but she was sleeping so soundly already that he couldn’t find it in him to disturb her. With one last sleepy-eyed glance in the direction of the newly acquired plastic, hospital bassinet, he pulled the blanket a nurse had brought him over himself and closed his eyes to get some much needed sleep.
He was almost over the edge of being completely pulled under when the sound of tiny whimpers softly reached his ears. Immediately, he was brought from the brink of sleep and back to the reality of the room he was in. Scrubbing a hand over his scruffy face, he quietly brought his chair to its original upright position and in three quick yet groggy strides found himself in front of the newest member of his family, his precious, teeny daughter.
Smoothly, he slid one of his hands behind her back and the other carefully under her dainty head and brought her to his chest. That was the moment she opened her deep blue eyes and looked up at him. In that split second, everything was calm, but not for long. The next thing he knew her little face was scrunching up preparing to let out the wail of a lifetime.
“Hey. Hey,” he whispered softly, “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Daddy’s right here.”
Recognizing his accented voice, her face began to relax again, and she peered up at him curiously. He couldn’t help but stare intently at her, trying to memorize every curve and inch of her angelic face. But all too soon, their moment was cut short by a gentle knock on the door followed by a nurse peeking her head in.
“Just checking in. Everything okay in here,” she asked quietly with a smile as she stepped inside.
“Yeah, I think I’ve got it under control,” Rob grinned sheepishly.
“Looks like your long nights have already started.”
“Guess so. I was almost out, but I heard her start to get fussy, and I didn’t want her to wake her Mummy.”
“Do you think she’s hungry or needs a change,” the nurse wondered, trying to help him out so he could get some sleep.
“I don’t think so. She just ate, and her diaper was changed shortly after that,” he replied, looking back down and seeing her scrunch up again. “Hey, hey. No, no, none of that. Let’s not cry and wake Mummy,” he chastised her tenderly.
“Would you want me to take her to the nursery, so you can get some sleep?”
For a brief second, he considered it, but quickly, he came to the conclusion he didn’t want to be away from her so soon. “Nah, we’re good. I’ll just hold her till she falls back asleep.”
“Wanna try a trick to maybe help her fall asleep faster? This always worked when my husband took the night shift with our kids,” she suggested.
“Sure, I guess,” he shrugged tiredly.
The nurse came in further and held out her hands toward him, “I’ll hold her while you take your shirt off.”
“Uhmm…what,” he eyed her suspiciously, confused. He briefly wondered if she was using this as an opportunity to ogle him and started to feel a bit awkward, blushing lightly.
She noticed his hesitation and realized immediately what he was thinking. “I promise, I’m happily married, and this is all part of the trick; not some ploy to see you shirtless.”
Gently, he placed his daughter into the nurse’s waiting hands before standing. He looked to eye her suspiciously again, but she’d turned her back to him, placing his little girl in her bassinet as she started to remove her onesie while she waited for him to get situated.
He pulled his t-shirt over his head, still feeling quite awkward, and threw it down next to the recliner. The squeak of the leather as he sat signaled he was ready for whatever she was about to show him. Turning around, he watched as she brought his daughter back to him, dressed only in her diaper that seemed to swallow her tiny body.
“Babies’ love skin to skin contact,” the nurse softly explained as she placed Eden on his chest. “It makes them feel safe and secure, as well as works as a wonderful bonding technique for parents and their newborns,” she continued, placing the blanket over the two of them.
“I didn’t realize that, and I read all the books,” he chuckled quietly.
“Well, now you know,” her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled. “See if that works, and I’ll be back by to check on you all in a little bit,” and with that, she tiptoed her way out of the room.
Looking down, he began to take her in again like he’d been doing before the nurse had popped in. It was still hard for him to fathom that she was real and here, lying safely on his chest. Healthy with ten fingers and ten toes. A tuft of downey, light blonde hair sitting atop her perfect little head. She looked up at him with droopy, innocent, blue eyes, and his heart melted. Though he’d loved her since first finding out about her, it was different now than it was then. Then she’d only been an idea, a concept, and he could only imagine her from how she felt through her mother’s taught skin. Often, he’d wondered where her place would be in his heart, but after she’d been born, he’d soon realized there wasn’t a specific compartment in which he loved her. Like her mother, she owned him completely like no other person in the world did. Now, he thought about how hard saying ‘no’ would be when she got older, and heaven forbid, when she started dating.
She began to wiggle in his arms, getting restless, so he brought his right hand to rest along her back, lightly running his fingers along her baby soft skin. He relished in the feeling of her against him and could detect when her movements stilled. Her breathing began to even out as he started to hum a familiar lullaby. He wanted her to get used to the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart. The hope was that, from this day forward, he would be her safe haven from all the harmful people and things in this world. A small grin crossed his lips as he thought about how sappy that was. He’d never truly been one for sap or romance until they’d come into his life. Now, it was like he couldn’t help himself, and he was more than okay with that.
Finally, it seemed she’d drifted off, and he could feel his own eyes becoming heavy as the events of the day hit him full force. He felt as exhausted as he had when he’d worked an eighteen hour day on set, and he wasn’t even the one who’d done all of the work. Welcome to fatherhood, he thought to himself before sleep encompassed him.
She startled awake around 3:30am and glanced alertedly around the room. The baby had yet to make a noise since she’d fallen asleep, and she grew concerned. A surge of panic washed over her as her eyes found the empty bassinet next to the bed. She was about to call out for Rob as she turned in his direction, but caught herself when she found him, shadowed by the light, sitting in the recliner in the corner next to her.
The sight she found made her heart soar with happiness and love for their new, little family. Reclined in the chair was a shirtless Rob, sleeping with his head lolled to one side and his mouth just barely open, and their newborn daughter resting on his bare chest. Both covered by a blanket and snoring lightly after the days exciting yet draining events.
She couldn’t help but stare at them. Fondly, she remembered back to when she’d told him she was pregnant. The tears of joy and the utter happiness he’d radiated told her all she needed to know: he was going to be the best daddy. Now watching the two of them sleep, snuggled up together just mere hours after officially becoming parents, her conclusion had only been reaffirmed. Reaching over to the bedside table, she unhooked her charging phone and opened the camera, wanting to capture this first moment before it was gone. Quietly, she snapped the photo before checking to make sure it turned out okay. Grinning as she studied the screen, she knew that image was going to be in their home for many years to come.
Followers and lurkers! What’s up? Yep, yep! It’s that time of the week again, so here’s a new story coming at ya, hot and fresh off the press! It was one I had working in progress that I decided to finish. Hope you all enjoyed this little, precious family moment. I love writing Daddy Rob and his little babies. So yes, you can bet your ass I’m a sucker for some good family sap. Anywho, hit me up with some feedback and some love in my inbox or replies, it’s so greatly appreciated, and I don’t get it much! Lastly, and most importantly, don’t forget to like and reblog! Until next week…
Also I didn’t realize there was a @planceday blog but here’s a belated Plance Day thing! Unedited, because I am always tired.
Lance has always liked threes. Three sides to his favorite comfort food (pizza); three younger siblings (Rosalyn, Alonzo, Isabel); three syllables in his mother’s name (Elisa); three words in a phrase he kept out of sight but in reach (you know, just in case).
So, he guesses, when it comes to his first kiss with Pidge, he’s not all that surprised it happens three times.
The first time is by accident.
He’s down in the labs, gracing Pidge with his ever-helpful presence (he’d been bored, and he liked the quiet stimulation of the lab - the soft whirs and blinking light and Pidge’s constant ramblings; Pidge had told him she liked having a second pair of eyes when she worked on the ship’s hardware, and that Hunk was “too linear”, whatever that meant). She waves Lance over to peer into the narrow opening of some kind of electrical panel and see if he could spot a specific wire. It’s a task he’d managed for her countless times before, and the press of the crown of her head against his as she, too, tries to get a better look, is perfectly familiar.
He spots it, like he always does, and she socks him in the arm in appreciation, like she always does, and they lift their heads in unison.
His nose brushes hers. Her bangs fall over her eyes and tickle his skin. Their lips meet like tangent and curve; the barest of intersections, a beat before peeling away.
They jump back from the panel and each other. They don’t make it awkward. It’s awkward but they don’t make it that way. No one laughs it off or tries to explain it away; Pidge just picks back up with whatever she’d been talking about before (he suddenly can’t remember the topic, and struggles to follow her high, tight words over the pounding of his heart), and he nods along and eventually cracks a joke about something. Lance saunters out of the lab a few doboshes later, claiming a need to get into the bathroom and wash his face before Hunk used up all the hot water. Pidge nods and doesn’t comment on the fact that there were multiple bathrooms, and the castle never ran out of hot water.
It burns at him. All night, thoughts lick at the edge of a mind desperate for sleep, replaying that single moment over, and over, and over again until it consumes him. He burns with the memory of how quickly that accidental kiss was over; he smolders with the realization that he wants it to happen again.
The second time is out of desperation.
They’re infiltrating another Galra base in what feels like an endless stream of Galra bases. Seriously, they knocked out one, like, twice a week. Shiro’s got Pidge and Lance on control station duty. Pidge hacks into the system, Lance sharpshooters the hell out of some sentries. Easy peasy.
Things are going great right up until the point where they’re not: Lance takes out a sentry way on the far end of the hall, and is indulging in his customary gloating to Pidge, when a Galra soldier drops down from a cliché and totally unseen air vent, whips around, and rams some sort of pulsing, electric baton into Lance’s chest. It goes bright, and then it goes dark.
Lance wakes up with a sputter and a gasp, like he’s broken the surface of the ocean long after he should have come up for air. A weight springs off of his chest, but whatever had been pounding away at his ribs has left everything soar. His lips are warm.
Eyes sliding open, he’s met with a tangle of brown hair that hovers a few millimeters above his face. Lance goes cross-eyed as he stares down and sees a hand pinching his nose shut. He sees a reddened cheek and a furrowed brow, and then he sees a mouth bracketing his. Each part seems incomplete, the observation of each individual tree and a an utter missing of the forest.
Then the lips leave his, and cool air hits his face. The picture comes together, and the picture is Pidge, leaning over him, face mottled with worry, fingers still holding his nose.
“You’re okay,” she breathes. The hard lines on her face start to soften. “You’re an idiot,” she continues, “but you’re okay.”
*It’s not my fault that guy came from the ceiling,* he tries to say, but it comes out as a painful wheeze instead. Pidge realizes where her other hand is and unplugs his nose.
“Pidge, is Lance okay?” Shiro’s voice echoes from some distant place. “Hunk is bringing the Yellow Lion in closer, but we’ve got to move fast.”
Pidge calls back in the affirmative, and Lance even manages to raise a shaky thumbs up.
“Here we go,” she says, voice so low that only Lance could possibly hear it. “I’ve got to carry your ass around again.”
But there’s zero actual malice in her words, and she darts back down and presses her lips to his so fast that he almost thinks he’s imagining it. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen, or the fact that his heart literally stopped, but he’s pretty sure Pidge’s cheeks run pink as she slips an arm under his shoulder and helps Shiro hoist him up, just like Lance is pretty sure that last lip contact was *not* a traditional step in performing CPR.
Lance thinks of her as the healing pod lulls him into a medically-induced sleep. She’s the first thing on his mind when he wakes up.
The third time is intentional. Or, at least, he hopes it will be. Lance hasn’t actually worked up the nerve, even though he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. Pidge is so, so close, which doesn’t make anything easier.
It’s video game night. They have one every Friday, or, well, what they’ve designated at Friday, since is impossible to really tell on the ship. Normally the whole team pile into the lounge for a raucous, tournament-style Earth game throwdown, but tonight, it’s just him and Pidge. Keith and Hunk had a meeting with the Blade of Marmora that just couldn’t be rescheduled, and Allura, Shiro, and Coran were working late to draft a treatise for a recently liberated system. Allura had offered a seat at the table if Lance and Pidge wanted to join in the ‘vital act of diplomacy’. They’d offered a hard pass in return.
There’s nothing unusual about the banter that flies between them, or even the way Pidge careens half into his lap as she leans hard with her controller, insisting that it really did make the car on the screen turn better. The tension though, that was different. No matter how casually he tried to act, every word sounds a little stilted, a bit off, and maybe it’s just him but it seems like Pidge feels it too. It gets thicker the longer the game goes on.
Lance has been thinking about this for quintants. He’s been losing precious, irreplaceable beauty sleep over it. With a long exhale and a nod, Lance jabs the pause button on the controller.
“Lance, what the quiz-”
“I want to kiss you.”
It takes every ounce of will in his body not to groan. That’s not what he’d practiced saying. He was supposed to be suave, and charming, and not sounding like he was about to choke on his own tongue. Lance hazards a glance at Pidge. Her eyebrows do an impressive climb towards her hairline and her lips part.
He’s got about a zillion things he could say to try and make this better, clean it up or make it a joke. Instead, he just turns to stare at her and hopes whatever answer she comes up with won’t be washed out by the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
Okay. Not the worst answer, though not as 'head over heels in love’ as he was hoping for. But encouraging enough for the next thing that comes out of his mouth:
“I want to kiss you again.”
Pidge straightens next to him on the couch, and tucks her hands in her lap. “Really.”
Lance puts a hand on her shoulder and turns her gently to face him. Nothing but his pride to lose. And, well, maybe her, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on that any more than he already has.
“Reallly really. Pidge, I want to kiss you again,” he declares. “I want to get our third first kiss out of the way, so that we can start on our second kiss and cross that off the list too, and so on, and so forth.”
Pidge raises an eyebrow, but she hasn’t tried to pull away. That’s a good sign, right?
“Our third first-?” she cuts herself off, lets out a short huff, and leans in. Reaching up, she cups his face in her hands and plants her lips on his.
It might be their third first kiss, but it feels like something altogether new: with a kiss this slow and deliberate, Lance can drink in every detail. Pidge’s lips are chapped but warm, and grow pliant as his mouth moves against hers. Her hands sink from his face down to his chest. Her eyes flutter shut, and so do his.
The kiss is chaste but deep, the kind that leaves him needing more of her, and closer. They break for air, and instead of some smart comment, Lance just rests his hands on her hips and pulls her into his lap. She comes with no protest, wrapping her arms around her neck and diving back in for another kiss - their second, if he’s counting right.
Lance has always liked threes, but past the second kiss he loses track. The numbers blend, and suddenly, it seems so much less important how many times he’s kissed Pidge, as the fact that he’s even kissing Pidge in the first place. All that matters, he decides, is that he can keep kissing her for a long, long, long time after.