#and the 'no time for relaxation' bit works way better in prime bc he really doesnt get moment of rest rime pirate world

[jamsofdeath0]

Sonic prime be like

We've got our selfs a situation

Stuck in a new location

WITH OUT ANNNNNY EXPLANATION

NO TIME FOR RELAXATION

DONT BLINK, DONT THINK JUST GOGOGOGOGO

GOTTA FASTER GOTTA FASTER

FASTER FASTER FASTER

[akumastrife]

strike the match // dream pack (trc)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: just slutty business, swearing, dubious consent bc canon appropriate drugs Fandom: Raven Cycle

Relationships: the dream pack but everyone’s sharing Proko as K watches, as things should be

Back!! on my bullshit!!!! 

{Also on AO3}

The rowing team shirt was faded and ragged, tiny cigarette burns in one shoulder, and stretched entirely ill-fitting across Prokopenko’s broad chest.

It was never meant to fit. It wasn’t his.

The sleeves had been carefully cut off—speaking to Lynch’s theft of it from Gansey—and then the bottom half ripped off in a show of violence that could only hint at Proko’s subsequent theft of it when Lynch had left it last.

Three power play tug-o-wars to upset Kavinsky most.

By the way Proko’s lip was puffy and bleeding—wrapped slack around Kavinsky’s dick, relaxed between his knees, just breathing, jesus fucking christ—Swan thought maybe Proko was winning.

It was easier to stare too long at the disaster of a shirt, than at Proko himself with his busted mouth, wondering how good it’d feel.

Kavinsky scraped his thumb nail over the head of the match, already blackened and used up. It flared up again anyway, and he put it out against Proko’s shoulder. Another singed hole in the shirt. Swan had watched the cycle four times over already, primed for each spark.

“You just gonna gloat?” Jiang asked, accusation cutting quick through the heady lack of talking over the music, and the headier smoke filling the basement. It wasn’t quite pot. Too white, too fragrant, like a building smoldering in its own embers. Close enough for Skov, so it was good enough for Swan.

“Yeah, K, you got him looking so pretty,” Skov jeered. “How long it’d take you to train him like that?”

“Probably got him all doped up,” Jiang said.

Kavinsky said nothing; eyes saying nothing from behind those stupid white sunglasses. He took another drag on his joint, and then shifted his feet—the scrape of soles too loud for how the music rattled Swan’s bones—as he dragged Proko’s mouth off his dick by a hand in his hair.

Swan felt Skov wince in sympathy from beside him on the couch.

Proko gasped like he hadn’t breathed in hours, eyes fluttering and lips parted slack. It was such a damn shame he was so pretty. “Can I?” Proko asked, voice ragged and ruined already.

Kavinsky tugged him up to claim his mouth in a painful kiss, his own lips stained red when he pulled back. There was something… tender, in the soothing of his tongue along the cut in Proko’s lip. But that was all before he was releasing Proko and pushing him towards the two of them on the couch.

Jiang whined in disappointment.

“Fuck yeah,” Swan breathed and got up immediately to make room. His fingers twitched against his own thighs, wanting, eager, knowing to wait. He really wasn’t any better than Proko.

Were any of them?

He watched—eyes feeling too wide to match how his ribs cracked in expanding to make room for his lungs—as Proko slid over Skov’s sprawled thighs, folding himself down to let Skov have his mouth in a desperate kiss.

“Fuck,” slipped out on a groan. He adjusted himself through his sweats, glancing over at Jiang doing the same. “I wanna try his mouth.”

Skov glanced over Proko’s shoulder, pupils blown dark, stupid long lashes fluttering in that look of want Swan knew all too well. “What do you think, Proko?”

Proko moaned, high and breathy and utterly domesticated, what the fuck. Proko used to put up more of a fight, used to grin razor sharp and delight in tussling until he was put on his stomach and made to enjoy the surrender of it.

What the fuck had Kavinsky done to him?

He’d think about it later. Much later, he decided, as Proko staggered up and turned in Skov’s hands. He slid back, pupils and lips both parted around darkness and wanting, letting Skov handle him however he wanted. Gave into Skov’s spider-like fingers running eager up his ribs, down around his stomach and hips, like he was warming him up. Proko’s stomach tightened and flexed—eager.

Proko reached forward, hands clamping painfully tight around Swan’s hips to drag him forward, eyes trained on him with a single-minded focus that made Swan’s mouth bone-fucking-dry.

He groaned, knowing already he was doomed, and stepped up between both of their parted knees—Skov’s tilting out to push Proko’s more obscene—and fumbled at the worn knot of drawstrings, only looking at Proko, at Skov’s eyes flashing dark and hungry over Proko’s shoulder, at Jiang’s desperate reflection in the cracked mirror behind the sagging couch.

It was a fast and heady race between them to see who could get Proko first. Skov laughed brightly as he tugged at Proko’s cut offs, reaching under him to pinch Swan’s thigh as he pushed his sweats down. Swan swatted his clever hand away and then lost everything in a gut-punched curse, bowing over Proko’s mouth immediately around his dick.

“Jesus,” he hissed, nails biting into Proko’s shoulders. “Lemme fucking prepare myself, dude, fuck.” He hadn’t been ready; ready, yes, but it was fast and a shock and he was sensitive and Proko’d forgotten to not use his fucking teeth. He wasn’t like Jiang. He didn’t play like that. He preferred teeth in other parts of him, not his fucking cock, christ.

“Hurry up, then, and catch up,” Skov mumbled, rolling his eyes. He did something with his hands that had Proko whining and buckling at all his joints like a broken doll.

He had to stop thinking about Proko that way.

“How the fuck are you already—still?—slick, dude?” Skov said, split between awed and alarmed. He glanced up at Swan (looked up up up, eyes dark, teeth catching his bottom lip and farther to grab his snake bites—Swan wanted to fuck that mouth too. He would. After.) “I got four fingers in ‘im already, can you fucking believe?”

“What?” Jiang snapped. He struggled up and careened across the basement, crashing into the couch beside Skov and craning in to look. He inhaled fast and stuttering, tongue flicking out like he wanted a taste, tongue stud flashing in the low lighting, and Swan wanted to let him just so he could watch.

He fisted a hand in Proko’s hair, humming pleased at how Proko whined immediately at the pull, sinking farther down, taking all of him, and swallowed several times until Swan was seeing stars.

“Fuck, K, does he not have a gag thing anymore?” Swan asked. He locked his knees, hitching his hips forward, and rolled his head on his neck to look over at Kavinsky. At their king. But in the way a monster might sit above a fae court, volatile and untouchable.

He had to stop listening to Jiang ramble about his fantasy books.  

He couldn’t see Kavinsky’s eyes, but he felt him looking back all the same. “You must’ve really worked on him.”

Kavinsky said nothing; chapped lips curling around the joint again and face turning to fix on Proko rocking back on Skov’s fingers, the sharp arch of his back

Judging, maybe.

Measuring his form to some standard Swan never wanted to know. K’s brows furrowed slightly. Dragged his thumb over the spent match head (Proko’s tongue dragged devastatingly over his slit.) His thumb was nearly as black.

“I’ll have him gagging,” Skov warned, and snapped Proko back by the hips, pulling him down onto his dick. Proko flinched and slid off Swan’s dick with a gut-punched sound so wounded that Swan almost came on the spot with nothing more than the flat of Proko’s tongue.

Skov swore low and drawn out, eyelashes fluttering. And then sunk his teeth into the back of Proko’s shoulder.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jiang whispered, fumbling his pants off and peeled one of Proko’s hands off Swan’s hips to put it in his own lap, groaning loud and obscene. Not even the thumping music could cover it.

“Loud bitch,” Swan muttered, meeting Skov’s eyes and jerking his chin at him. Skov grinned, glittering sharp like a viper, and stuffed his fingers into Jiang’s mouth.

“Don’t be a bitch and bite,” Skov snapped. He didn’t have to. Jiang probably wasn’t even listening anymore.

Swan snorted. He pulled Proko back onto his dick, watching Skov more than anything. “How’s he?”

“Like a fuckin’ dream,” Skov groaned.

Out of the corner of his eye, Swan saw K smile. Just a flicker. Maybe that was just the hazy air.

Swan rocked his hips faster, bending over Proko to catch Skov’s mouth in a slick kiss. He felt Skov starting to smile, taunting, that asshole, and bit his lip to head that shit right off. He liked kissing Skov, fucking sue him, and he tasted better when he was getting his dick wet.

Thick smoke rolled over them, snaking into nose and mouth, and Swan nearly choked on it. Kissed Skov to keep from coughing: harder, meaner, greedier. Tried to forget about Kavinsky watching and couldn’t; felt his eyes on them like claws into flesh. The smoke was sweeter, musky. Rotting wood, maybe, or something that smelled like desperation and hunger.

He bit into Skov—

He was so hungry. For Proko’s tight throat and Skov’s pierced mouth. For violence and the simmering heat that bloomed whenever he put someone on their back. Arousal built on itself, climbing up his spine and pulling taut as wire.

“You just gonna sit there?” Swan asked, harsh and breathless. He glared over at Kavinsky. Hitched his hips to push harder at Proko to make him choke, relishing in the wet, gasping noises and how it made Skov breath harder, tone edged higher.

Kavinsky smiled. He had too many teeth—

Swan blinked—

Kavinsky wasn’t smiling at all. He shifted, slow and like his body was made of shifting and crumbling branches, and turned the music up higher. Louder and grating. He stood, taking another drag, holding it until he’d stepped over and blew the smoke into Swan’s face.

Swan blinked fast, inhaling against his better judgment and shuddering at the acrid tang of the smoke curling in his lungs, fucking Proko’s mouth a little faster.

“Fuck yes, baby boy,” Skov groaned, strained and right on that fucking edge. Swan knew it too well, knew exactly what he sounded like, tasted like, felt like inside and out when he was hanging on the precipice of losing it. Proko keened, moving faster; Jiang inhaled fast and sharp, chewing on Skov’s fingers and hitching his hips up into Proko’s fist, tight and wet.

Swan wanted to do something very stupid.

Something scraped sharply right in his ear, making him twitch (making his dick jump) and he turned his head to see Kavinsky still standing there, bright match in his hand. The flame flickered hungrily, licking charred wood and charred flesh.

Kavinsky’s sunglasses stared at him, unreadable and expectant. Held out the match. An offer or a demand, it was all the same.

Swan opened his mouth.

The world went up in flames.

[roseandbee]

Hiii, I’ve seen to response to Gina to my depressing ask and I’m sorry I’m in anon but I’m shy and Infeel comfortable doing this. So.. everything started in august when I just exploded... my stress level was at his highest point due to working from home and covid and thoughts. I have irritable bowel syndrome so I was constipated, then I started to feel pain in my left hip (sometimes in my right) and then I started to pee a lot and feel pain my vulva/vagina. I went to doctors, they thought it was cystitis and tendonitis but my urine test we’re fine. I wen to the gyno and he did an eco and smear and everything was fine! I took ibuprofen and my hip stopped hurting but I was doing a lot of pee, so I went to the hospital and it was due to muscle tension so they sent me a pill to relax my muscle and I was fine. They also did me an abdominal eco and it was fine too. Until two weeks ago when my left hip started to hurt again and my vulva but also my low back and my stomach, I went to the hospital, they did a x-ray and they told me I have backache and they did another urine test that was fine.

I think I should mention that: That week, the two weeks ago, I have a lot of stress at work and I sat in a really bad posture, I have a lot of gases, also I have irregular periods (POC I think)and migraine. Besides, I usually don’t talk with anyone about my feelings and I just laugh about everything until I’m on the edge and I haven’t talked with anyone about my feelings in like 14 years, I was sexual abuse for 5 years when I was a teenager and I didn’t mention it until the fifth year, the last year because I almost killer myself (something that I don’t want to do it anymore and haven’t thought in doing it)

My therapist says that the vulva pain can be due to trauma because I’m starting to heal or talk about sex (I’m reading smutty fics😅) and I’ve read that hip pain and back pain is related to bowel syndrome and anxiety and stress too. The other day, the day Louis announced his concert I was so happy I didn’t feel any kind of pain so... it’s my fucking mind? Because fighting with myself it’s been so fucking hard.

Sorry for all of this, it’s really long but I think you needed all the context. Thanks again just for checking up on me! Sending all the love🤍

Hi love first of all I'm sorry for the delay- it's dinnertime round these parts so I ran off for a bit. And do not apologize for staying anon - there's absolutely nothing wrong with keeping your medical history private, and truly I'm going to see if I can answer privately. I forget if I can do that or not. That said, I have already overshared plenty on here and am comfortable doing so bc I have hit the point of ppl in real life knowing these things too (and I'm retired now so it doesn't affect my ability to get or keep a job).

Back to you- everything you are saying I can back up from both a professional and personal standpoint. I have either experienced such things through irl people very close to me or experienced it myself.

I have no idea other than what you have said thus far about your medical knowledge, so I'm going to error on the side of over-explaining.

First- dermatomes and inflammation seem to be major factors in all of your symptoms. Basically, with dermatomes, anything in the nerve pathway can be affected by damage, which can result from injury from an outside source, or from your body's normal and abnormal responses to internal things like fluid buildup. I'll use me as prime example: my lumbar spine dermatomes are forever affected by my lumbar spinal fusion and the remaining curve to my spine that causes unequal use of the muscles in my low back on downward to my toes. They are also affected by things that cause increased pressure in my lower abdomen, like having excess gas, constipation, and/or menstruation.

I noted that you said you have IBS and (I think you meant) PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome). Both of these cause issues with increased inflammation and can easily affect your body's ability to keep a regular cycle of fluid buildup and release. I am not a doc obviously so please take this as an option to pursue, not full medical advice, but, you could look into turmeric supplements and cherry juice and primrose oil supplements as potential ways to help with inflammation. Please especially note that turmeric must be taken with meals and can irritate the stomach. It's not something you get used to eventually.

Okay, onto the brain side of things, which is definitely no less important. A lot of what you have described sounds like body memories. And in my experience, the best thing you can do for those is to 1) be SUPER aware of your triggers, 2) STOP and redirect yourself asap if whatever you are doing makes it worse, and 3) become SUPER aware of the tiny signs that you're becoming triggered/triggered worse. It takes time and practice and I still mess it up often. I would say I've been in full trauma recovery mode for about a year now, for reference. I hope that this is something that you are working on in therapy because it sounds like you are ready to do so. If you aren't ready yet, that is okay, and I apologise. And we can be here all day discussing trauma and trauma recovery, so I will stop for now, but I encourage you to continue therapy, remembering always that you are strong and that you did not and do not deserve to go through your trauma.

Sending love and strength your way. Please come back anytime hon 💕

Oh almost forgot- you are not making things up or whatever your mental illnesses are trying to tell you when you felt better about Louis' concert announcement. You just got a serotonin boost and very effective distraction, both of which can be very effective pain relievers!! So do your best to find as many things as possible that help you feel calm and cared for. As ugly as it can get in fandom, you can always find people who care. Most of us have at least one tag if not side blog for happy things even if no one is around, and we do that for precisely that reason.

[imagineurfavs]

SF9 - Being Pampered by Their S/O

“Hello darling 💖! May I ask for SF9 reaction spoil them and pamper them? Just over all taking care of them all the time. Hope it's okay to ask. Love your writing btw! Keep the amazing work 💕!”

(A/N) I wasn't sure which way round you wanted this lol, as in was it you pampering them or them pampering you...i did it was you always spoiling them, if you want one done the other way round feel free to request again 💖

---------------

Youngbin: Constantly tries to repay every little thing you do for him, he just feels as if he can’t possibly deserve someone as sweet as you always doing stuff for him. Even if its something small it’ll still be reciprocated tenfold. Please let him repay you at least a little bit though or you’d hurt his pride tbh...

Inseong: I feel like hes better with his words than he is with actually doing stuff so I wouldn't be surprised if whenever you do something for him, he answers it with a monologue about how lucky he is, how much he loves you etc etc, all that mushy stuff. But when it comes to actually doing something...bless him he tries...

Jaeyoon: Just turns into a huge ball of soft mush tbh. A sentimental boy; even the smallest acts of kindness from you just make him so emotional. So expect him to pull you into his arms and give you a whole ass speech about how lucky he is to have you in his life and all that stuff. He might even shed a tear or two tbh.

Dawon: In pure Sanghyuk style, he always just has to turn it into a big deal lol. That’s not to say that he doesn't take every little thing you do to heart bc he absolutely does, he just finds it easier to show his appreciation by making you laugh than he does bc using his emotions lol.

Juho:  On the outside, it probably looks as if he doesn't really care too much, but he’d remember every little thing you do for him. He’d make it up to you with one huge grandiose gesture that he’s been planning and adding on to every time you do something for him. He’s just waiting for the right time to reveal it all lol.

Rowoon: The member who resists it all the most tbh. He’s just so used to being the one who spoils everyone else that he has no idea how to act when it’s his turn to just sit and relax. “It’ll be constant “y/n nooo you don’t have to do that” “let me do something for you instead!”

Taeyang: Literally has zero idea how to act or what to say. Like he feels like he should be doing something for you as well, but he just gets so swept up in feeling all warm and fuzzy that he probably just forgets. oops?

(this gif doesnt fit at all but he looks cute af so,,,,)

Hwiyoung: I feel like he’s not that good with talking about how he feels lol so even though he really would appreciate everything you do for him, even the little things, it’d just go unspoken. But then like one day he’ll just appear with like a bunch of flowers and gifts and just say sth like “this is to say thank you for that one time you took care of me when i was sick last year” Don’t be fooled bc he never mentions its to you, HE REMEMBERS IT ALL.

Chani: Honestly just lets you do exactly what you want for him; he absolutely loves it. Probably has a little bit of a prince complex lol he just thinks it’s what couples should naturally do for each other every now and then. He’ll definitely be preparing in his mind how to prepare the favour (by that i mean asking the members for help bc he’s not used to being the one doing the spoiling lol)

(gif is chani in prime spoiled prince mode lol)

[blondeblackwidow]

Surefire ( Poe x Queen!OFC x Kylo Ren ) AO3

V. Poe

a/n: chapter five already! next is kylo or amicea, haven’t decided. poe makes some friends and i really throw some canon away because it’s easier for me ok? Bottom quote is from Before the Awakening, and i highly recommend it. I just vaguely reference that part so i decided to include. the damerons speak spanish because i said so and there’s no canon yavin language ok

wc: 1579!

tw: none. poe cries some more bc tbh he needs it

Tags: @treestarrrrrrrr @simonsbluee

Poe Dameron liked to think he was simple. He liked flying, and his ship. His best friends were the pilots in Black Squadron. He liked doing repairs at night, it was more peaceful. It was currently three am and he’s currently burning his hand on his X Wings hot oil.

“Shit!” He yelled and pulled his hand away. He shook it, and BeeBee cooed at his feet in concern. “I’m fine buddy.” 

“You should listen to your droid, commander.” Leia stood a few feet from his X Wing. 

“General.” He ducked under the wing, meeting the elder woman in the clear.

“When is the last time you slept?” The truth was, Poe hadn’t slept since Hosnian, weeks of rumors and whispers and a pair of blue eyes that he saw every time he tried. 

“I’ll sleep when the wars over.” Leia laughed, she saw so much of Shara in him. Shara Bey was a woman who would fix the galaxy with her bare hands if she had too. She would do it on her own, and always had a hard time accepting she didn’t have to. 

A trait that seemed to pass to her son. “War hasn’t officially started, Dameron, get some rest.” He sighed, and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Has there been any word from the Republic.. From Hosnian?” He asked, dancing around the question that he didn’t want the answers to.

“Queen Amicea had her official coronation two weeks ago, and has sent out wedding invitations to all major senators.” Poe’s chest sunk. He wanted to swoop in and save her, to protect her from this monstrous situation she was in, but she was a grown woman, a queen who didn’t need his protection. Or his help, she had made that very clear. “I’m sorry, I know you loved her.” 

He inhaled to protest. They were never officially something, and the mere idea of them could ruin Amicea’s life. 

“There’s no need to defend it, Commander.” She offered a sad smile. “your secret is safe with me.” 

“We were kids, practically.” He sighed. “I don’t know why I’m so shocked, guess I always knew this was coming.”

“I don’t think anyone expects to stare down the person they loved on opposite sides of a battlefield.” Her eyes were so sad, as if she knew the feeling. 

Poe rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his boots. “Get some sleep.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him an apologetic smile, turning and making her exit.

He pulled his comm from his pocket. His hands were shaking, he didn’t know why, it’s not like the call was going to kill him, but here he was, hovering above the communicator buttons. 

He hadn't realized he pressed it when he heard the ringing. 

“Hello?” The gruffy voice on the other line answered.

“Hey pop, it’s me.”

“Poe, I was so worried, I tried to contact you but they said you left Hosnian.” His dad sounded frantic, worried.

“Sorry pop, I, uh .. I don’t know how to say this.” He sighed. “I left Hosnian to join Leia Organa’s resistance.” There was a dead silence for a solid moment, and Poe was expecting the worst, like a child who just got caught sneaking sweets before dinner.

“As soon as I heard about her resistance, I knew it wasn’t long before you joined up.” Kes Dameron considered him a simple man as well, and all he wanted was his son to be safe, and away from the firefight. But Poe was more Bey than Dameron most days. “I don’t like it, but that’s because I don’t want to lose you too.” 

Too. Poe bit his lip, they weren’t the closest father-son set in the galaxy, but they were all each other had left. 

“You won’t pop, the general is trying to keep this away from another great war.” Poe didn’t believe that this would end peacefully and neither did Kes, but it was better to lie for now than face what was coming.

“I hope so, it’s always been my greatest fear, you having to fight the wars we did.” His dad sounded exhausted, not just in a sleep deprived way, but in the way of someone who was running on a short supply of hope. “But you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded, even though Kes couldn’t see.

“Get some sleep, Poe.” 

“I don’t need  -” 

“I can hear it in your voice, get some rest mijo.” Poe smiled, the old nickname felt like a warm blanket on a cool Yavin summer night. 

“You too Pop, I’ll call soon.”

“I love you, Poe.”

“Love you too, pop.” 

Poe Dameron had cried more in these past few weeks than he had in his whole life. But when he was done, he finally got some sleep.

He was also a man of routine, so when he finally did wake up from his much needed rest, he walked through his autopilot of a morning. He showered, dressed, and headed for the command center. It was always bustling with life and work to do, it was relaxing, kept his head out of the clouds.

“You’re Poe, right?” He turned, and saw a taller, older man standing next to him. 

“Yeah, and you are?” Poe extended his hand, his face was weary with caution, but he needed friends.

“Friends call me Snap.” He smiled. “I’m gonna be flying under you in Blue Squadron.” 

“Snap Wexley?!” He exclaimed. “Was your mom Norra Wexley?” 

“Yeah.” Snap nodded. “Why’s that?”

“My mom was Shara Bey, they flew together!” Snap’s face lit up, and the command center came to a screeching halt. Those who didn’t know that Poe was Rebellion Royalty, they did now.

“No way, that’s crazy.” Snap’s eyes were happy, and carefree. Poe was laughing and exchanging stories of times their mothers would fly around them as kids, leaving them awestruck. 

Poe left out that he was eight the last time he saw Shara fly, but he was so happy to finally have a friend. 

“Blue Squad is having a bonfire tonight, you should stop by.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

-

“So what’s your full story, why is the son of two legendary rebel fighters just now joining the cause?” The little brunette spoke up from her side of the fire, she was still in her flight suit, just pulled down and tied around the waist. Pava, she said her name was, goes by Jess, he was trying to learn names, but he was always terrible at remembering them.

“I was with the New Republic Starfighter Corps, flew a couple missions, nothing crazy. Didn’t even know this was a thing till like two months ago if I’m honest.” He chuckled and took a drink of the shitty rum floating around the group.

“I heard that you got a diplomatic assignment to pilot some King.” Poe’s eyebrows went to his forehead. So much for confidential. 

“It was a Queen, and yes, I was in charge of transporting her from her planet to Hosnian Prime. I got into a dogfight and was pulled out of my squad for a month.” 

“What planet?” Snap asked, he was sitting on a crate, leaned forward, interested in whatever he was about to say. 

“Adrora.” He shrugged as if talking about it wasn’t ripping him to pieces.

“I heard she’s hot. Did you lay her?” Pava questioned, and all eyes were on him.

His throat felt like it was covered in cement as he swallowed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh please tell me you’ve had the talk, Dameron.” 

“I’ve had the talk I just don’t like the nature of the question.” He defended himself. The answer was yes, but he didn’t need that piece of information floating around a rebel base.

“Before or after she got engaged to the General’s son?” Pava leaned back onto a tree. Poe’s face drained of color.

“To who?” 

“Pava…” Snap began. “Crossing a line.”

“It’s common knowledge in command.” She shrugged. Poe’s world was spinning so fast he felt like he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“Because we heard it from her!” Pava rolled her eyes and stood. 

“Well now he knows, save the general one more heartache.” She walked off. 

“I don’t think anyone expects to stare down the person they loved on opposite sides of a battlefield.”

“Don’t worry about it Dameron, she’ll calm down.” 

“Y-yeah, It’s alright.” He looked at Snap, he couldn’t breathe. It explained so much. “I have to make a call.” He stood, setting his bottle down.

“If it’s to that Queen, drop it.” Snap grabbed his arm. “She made her choice.” 

“What choices did she have?” He ran a hand through his hair. “What choices do any of us have..” He mumbled and walked off to his quarters. 

His fingers shook above the button once more, but this time he pressed the power button and put it away.

-

“So you were never scared?”

His father laughed softly. “I didn’t say that. I’m saying that what I was afraid of then isn’t what scares me now.”

“What’re you afraid of now?”

Poe watched his father raise his eyes from the fence and stare up into the dusk sky. The sun had almost slipped behind the gas giant, and in the last moments of daylight everything seemed oddly brighter, more sharply in focus.

“That it was all for nothing,” his father said.

Excerpt From

Star Wars: Before the Awakening

Greg Rucka

[despair-tummy]

Real quick Kenshir.o and Sakur.a cum inflation fic bc I’m weird.

Kenshiro was a prime candidate to try an experimental medication, or at least that’s what the doctor told him. The medication was still in the trial phase and there was always the possibility of a bad reaction, but considering he was suffering at the hands of a terminal illness, he leapt at the chance to try it. If nothing came of it, then at least going through the process would provide them with some research regarding the drug.

The first week the drug was administered there was little change, he still felt weak, hair stayed as white as snow and his weight kept dropping at a dangerously fast rate. The second week was the same, but the third week was when he started to feel the effects of the drug at long last. It started off small, by him slowly regaining his appetite, managing to sit up without getting exhausted and among other things. Weeks turned into months and months turned into a full year and the results were incredible.

While still not one hundred percent well, he felt better than he ever had since his grim diagnosis. His hair was slowly returning to its natural brown colour, he managed to gain a bit of weight back and most importantly he rarely felt exhausted. Able to not only sit up but walk. While the hospital was still going to be where he was currently stationed, the occasional day away from it was something he was very thankful for. Especially since it meant he could spend less time in the depressing atmosphere of a hospital with his girlfriend, Sakura, and actually do the mundane things couples did that they took for granted.

Sure he wasn’t one hundred percent well, and sparring together was out of the question. But it gave them the time to enjoy and really appreciate the simple things couples got to do. Going out to movies, dinner, dancing (though that one failed miserably and they both agreed to never talk about it again) and overall enjoying each other’s company without the constant reminder of his illness lingering over them.

Course, with the miracle drug and all its benefits that greatly improved his quality of life, there was one side effect that was rather odd. While the medication was working wonders, the one side effect he was dealing with was just how embarrassingly aroused the drug left him. He wasn’t a mindless pervert, but he was just feeling so pent up. It wasn’t like he could give himself some release in the hospital or waste time doing that while spending time outside the hospital with Sakura.

You could only imagine his surprise when Sakura entered the kitchen one day in a little pastel pink babydoll, her face even pinker than the lingerie she was adorned in. Stuttering that Junko and Aoi talked her to not only buy this but wear it for the time he could spend the night. It was such a cute sight, seeing her flustered and dolled up. But he couldn’t deny there was something clearly arousing about the sight of his girlfriend before him. The way the pink complimented that feminine side of her that even she had, the way the curtains of the babydoll framed her solid abs, not to mention how flustered she was acting, shifting awkwardly in her spot and twirling a lock of white hair anxiously around her finger.

Needless to say, they immediately moved things over to the bedroom, and for the first time in far too long, he felt so alive for once. It wasn’t like him and Sakura was never intimate before, but it’s been ages since he could explore her body and hear her make those cute little noises she was embarrassed by whenever he ate her out. God, he loved it when he could make her squirm.

It wasn’t long before neither of them could ignore the ever presence tent in his pants, sure enough, his pants and underwear were on the floor and Sakura was on all fours. He couldn’t begin to describe how good it was to finally get some relief after feeling so pent up and hot and bothered for such a long time. Every time he rhythmically rocked his hips, that just sent him closer and closer to that climax he was itching to finally have for what felt like years.

It wasn’t long before Kenshiro eventually came, that alone was completely normal for anyone. But the abnormal side was just how much cum he was releasing, at first it seemed just a little more than usual, but as seconds turned into minutes and those minutes drew on, it was as clear as day this was completely out of the ordinary. He couldn’t have talked or question it vocally and clearly. Not only was he cumming for an unusual length of time, but he was still orgasming as well.

What made this even more unusual after a while, was what this strange phenomenon was doing to Sakura, who was still on the receiving end. Her solid abs that she had trained relentlessly to achieve, were starting to ever slightly bulge out over time with the sheer amount of semen he was releasing into her, that showed no sign of letting up anytime soon.

Time went by and he was still releasing into her, her midsection swelled greatly, bloated to extreme lengths from his seemingly endless stream of seed. Her abs were still there, somewhere. Just extremely vague and hidden under how extremely bloated she was from his never ending release. By now Sakura closely resembled a woman who was full term in pregnancy.

Slowly but steadily his stream of cum began to crease to an end at long last. He was exhausted, completely drained of energy (and probably a lifetime of semen too) and drenched in sweat, he finally pulled out of her and flopped onto the bed. Sakura flopped onto her side and rolled onto her back so her mountain of a belly was up in the air.

“I...I think we just discovered a side effect of the drug.” Kenshiro spoke through his panting. “You alright?”

Sakura nodded groaning as she cradled her stomach that poked through the curtains of the lingerie. “I’m fine, I just feel... full.”

“Sorry about this.” Despite his own tiredness he managed to reach over and brush a lock of her snowy white hair out of her face.

“Apologies are not necessary, you were unaware.” she reassured. “The drug is still experimental. It doesn’t feel as bad as it appears to be if that provides you with reassurance. It’s-“ her face flushed a deeper shade of pink as she paused for a moment.

At first, Kenshiro was confused as to why she was reacting like that, but he eventually caught sight as to why. She must have cradled her midsection too hard because all the cum that was heavily packed in her began to slowly ooze out of her core.

“At least we know how to undo this,” he said.

“Indeed...” Sakura spoke, face still beet red as she shifted her gaze away from him and decided to roll onto her side.

“You know, you’re pretty cute like this,” he commented, scooting closer to her, getting into position to spoon with her. “All full and round,” Kenshiro nuzzled into her back while he used one hand to brush the curve of her stomach, both in a loving and curious manner.

He could still thinly feel her muscles that were somewhere in amidst of all the roundness. Despite that, the closest thing he could compare her midsection to was a water balloon. He felt her tense muscles relax, she didn’t say anything, she didn’t need too, but he could tell she was finally content and relaxed. So for now, they both decided just to enjoy the comfortable silence as they recovered from their exhaustion.

At least until the side effect of the drug acted up again.

[sundayswithsarah-blog]

Whatever your political affiliation, I really find the love story between Lee Kuan Yew and Kwa Geok Choo to be truly romantic - the life-long kind of love that's so rare these days.

He would not have been who he ended up being, if not for her unwavering, caring love and support. And he was never the same after her passing.

Here are excerpts from his eulogy for her, which I've merged with a little bit from an article on how LKY was like in the time after.

____

"My wife and I have been together since 1947 for more than three quarters of our lives. My grief at her passing cannot be expressed in words. But today (Wednesday), when recounting our lives together, I would like to celebrate her life

...

As a young man with an interrupted education at Raffles College, and no steady job or profession, her parents did not look upon me as a desirable son-in-law. But she had faith in me.

We had committed ourselves to each other... We gradually influenced each other's ways and habits as we adjusted to and accommodated each other.

...

We knew that we could not stay starry-eyed lovers all our lives; that life was an on-going challenge with new problems to resolve and manage.

...

We never argued over the upbringing of our children, nor over financial matters. Our earnings and assets were jointly held. We were each other's confidant.

She had simple pleasures. We would walk around the Istana gardens in the evening, and I would hit golf balls to relax. Later, when we had grandchildren, she would take them to feed the fish and the swans in the Istana ponds. Then we would swim.

...

She had an uncanny ability to read the character of a person. She would sometimes warn me to be careful of certain persons; often, she turned out to be right.

When we were about to join Malaysia, she told me that we would not succeed because the Umno Malay leaders had such different lifestyles and because their politics were communally-based, on race and religion.

I replied that we had to make it work as there was no better choice. But she was right. We were asked to leave Malaysia before two years had passed.

...

After her first stroke, she lost her left field of vision. This slowed down her reading. She learned to cope, reading with the help of a ruler. She swam every evening and kept fit. She continued to travel with me, and stayed active despite the stroke. She stayed in touch with her family and old friends.

She listened to her collection of CDs, mostly classical, plus some golden oldies. She jocularly divided her life into "before stroke" and "after stroke", like BC and AD.

...

Her second stroke on 12 May 2008 was more disabling. I encouraged and cheered her on, helped by a magnificent team of doctors, surgeons, therapists and nurses.

...

Her nurses, WSOs and maids all grew fond of her because she was warm and considerate. When she coughed, she would take her small pillow to cover her mouth because she worried for them and did not want to infect them. Her mind remained clear but her voice became weaker. When I kissed her on her cheek, she told me not to come too close to her in case I caught her pneumonia. When given some peaches in hospital, she asked the maid to take one home for my lunch. I was at the centre of her life.

On 24 June 2008, a CT scan revealed another bleed again on the right side of her brain. There was not much more that medicine or surgery could do except to keep her comfortable. I brought her home on 3 July 2008. The doctors expected her to last a few weeks. She lived till 2nd October, 2 years and 3 months.

She remained lucid. That gave time for me and my children to come to terms with the inevitable. In the final few months, her faculties declined. She could not speak but her cognition remained. She looked forward to have me talk to her every evening.

Her last wish she shared with me was to enjoin our children to have our ashes placed together, as we were in life.

The last two years of her life were the most difficult. She was bedridden after small successive strokes; she could not speak but she was still cognisant. Every night she would wait for me to sit by her to tell her of my day's activities and to read her favourite poems. Then she would sleep.

I have precious memories of our 63 years together. Without her, I would be a different man, with a different life. She devoted herself to me and our children.

She was always there when I needed her. She has lived a life full of warmth and meaning.

I should find solace in her 89 years of a life well lived. But at this moment of the final parting, my heart is heavy with sorrow and grief."

____

After her passing... LKY missed his wife deeply.

"For a week after his wife died, Mr Lee Kuan Yew fussed over her photographs on the wall of the living room at their Oxley Road home.

He placed pictures of their favourite moments together at the foot of his bed and by the treadmill which he used every day. A few days later, he would move them around again.

He repositioned his grey plastic chair at the dining table to have the best view of her pictures on the wall. As he ate his dinner, he listened to classical music, which she enjoyed - her favourite composer was Johann Sebastian Bach.

But nothing seemed to comfort Mr Lee in the days after Madam Kwa Geok Choo, his wife of 63 years, his best friend and confidante, died on Oct 2, 2010.

He slept erratically. A memory would bring tears to his eyes. When her ashes arrived at Oxley Road in a grey marble urn three days after the funeral, he wept.

It took three months before he began returning to normal.

"Slowly, he accepted that Mrs Lee was gone," said his youngest and only surviving brother, Dr Lee Suan Yew.

It was nine months before his health stabilised, said his only daughter Wei Ling.

...

He would usually get home at around 9pm and he would spend a few moments looking at his wife's urn in the living room.

He kept to his new routine in the disciplined way with which he had led his life. But he told his friend Dr Schmidt, who visited in May 2012, that his wife's death had left a deep hole in his life and nothing could fill it.

After Mrs Lee died, elder son Hsien Loong, the Prime Minister, and his wife Ho Ching began visiting Mr Lee on Saturday afternoons whenever their schedules allowed, to keep him company.

...

Throughout, Mr Lee kept up his Mandarin lessons, and continued his exercises and outings. Titanium, as his daughter once described him in an article, is light but strong. It can bend a little, but it will not snap unless it is under overwhelming force, she wrote.

On Feb 5, he was admitted to the Singapore General Hospital, this time with severe pneumonia.

News in mid-March that he was critically ill saw an outpouring of good wishes across the island he loved and called home."

___________

A story shared by a Singaporean who bumped into them at a museum:

"He requested to push his wife. And even in his weakness and old age at that point in time, I saw him struggle to push his wife in her wheelchair. They stopped at almost every painting (I followed them behind, keeping my distance and pretending to look at those paintings too). And at every painting, he would bend down and asked her gently for her thoughts. They would share a quiet moment of discussion, and sometimes laughed together. It felt like no one else was around, and they felt very much still in love."

[elita-t-blog]

Word Of The Day “Jocular”

Last night at our Toastmasters Chapter Meeting, our language evaluator gave us the word of the day “Jocular”. Today, I find it in this article on Facebook. Expanding and upgrading my vocabulary every day...

________________________________________________________________

Whatever your political affiliation, I really find the love story between Lee Kuan Yew and Kwa Geok Choo to be truly romantic - the life-long kind of love that's so rare these days.

He would not have been who he ended up being, if not for her unwavering, caring love and support. And he was never the same after her passing.

Here are excerpts from his eulogy for her, which I've merged with a little bit from an article on how LKY was like in the time after. Full sources cited below.

____

"My wife and I have been together since 1947 for more than three quarters of our lives. My grief at her passing cannot be expressed in words. But today (Wednesday), when recounting our lives together, I would like to celebrate her life ... As a young man with an interrupted education at Raffles College, and no steady job or profession, her parents did not look upon me as a desirable son-in-law. But she had faith in me.

We had committed ourselves to each other... We gradually influenced each other's ways and habits as we adjusted to and accommodated each other. ... We knew that we could not stay starry-eyed lovers all our lives; that life was an on-going challenge with new problems to resolve and manage. ... We never argued over the upbringing of our children, nor over financial matters. Our earnings and assets were jointly held. We were each other's confidant.

She had simple pleasures. We would walk around the Istana gardens in the evening, and I would hit golf balls to relax. Later, when we had grandchildren, she would take them to feed the fish and the swans in the Istana ponds. Then we would swim. ...

She had an uncanny ability to read the character of a person. She would sometimes warn me to be careful of certain persons; often, she turned out to be right.

When we were about to join Malaysia, she told me that we would not succeed because the Umno Malay leaders had such different lifestyles and because their politics were communally-based, on race and religion.

I replied that we had to make it work as there was no better choice. But she was right. We were asked to leave Malaysia before two years had passed.

...

After her first stroke, she lost her left field of vision. This slowed down her reading. She learned to cope, reading with the help of a ruler. She swam every evening and kept fit. She continued to travel with me, and stayed active despite the stroke. She stayed in touch with her family and old friends.

She listened to her collection of CDs, mostly classical, plus some golden oldies. She jocularly divided her life into "before stroke" and "after stroke", like BC and AD.

...

Her second stroke on 12 May 2008 was more disabling. I encouraged and cheered her on, helped by a magnificent team of doctors, surgeons, therapists and nurses.

...

Her nurses, WSOs and maids all grew fond of her because she was warm and considerate. When she coughed, she would take her small pillow to cover her mouth because she worried for them and did not want to infect them. Her mind remained clear but her voice became weaker. When I kissed her on her cheek, she told me not to come too close to her in case I caught her pneumonia. When given some peaches in hospital, she asked the maid to take one home for my lunch. I was at the centre of her life.

On 24 June 2008, a CT scan revealed another bleed again on the right side of her brain. There was not much more that medicine or surgery could do except to keep her comfortable. I brought her home on 3 July 2008. The doctors expected her to last a few weeks. She lived till 2nd October, 2 years and 3 months.

She remained lucid. That gave time for me and my children to come to terms with the inevitable. In the final few months, her faculties declined. She could not speak but her cognition remained. She looked forward to have me talk to her every evening.

Her last wish she shared with me was to enjoin our children to have our ashes placed together, as we were in life.

The last two years of her life were the most difficult. She was bedridden after small successive strokes; she could not speak but she was still cognisant. Every night she would wait for me to sit by her to tell her of my day's activities and to read her favourite poems. Then she would sleep.

I have precious memories of our 63 years together. Without her, I would be a different man, with a different life. She devoted herself to me and our children.

She was always there when I needed her. She has lived a life full of warmth and meaning.

I should find solace in her 89 years of a life well lived. But at this moment of the final parting, my heart is heavy with sorrow and grief."

____

After her passing... LKY missed his wife deeply.

"For a week after his wife died, Mr Lee Kuan Yew fussed over her photographs on the wall of the living room at their Oxley Road home.

He placed pictures of their favourite moments together at the foot of his bed and by the treadmill which he used every day. A few days later, he would move them around again.

He repositioned his grey plastic chair at the dining table to have the best view of her pictures on the wall. As he ate his dinner, he listened to classical music, which she enjoyed - her favourite composer was Johann Sebastian Bach.

But nothing seemed to comfort Mr Lee in the days after Madam Kwa Geok Choo, his wife of 63 years, his best friend and confidante, died on Oct 2, 2010.

He slept erratically. A memory would bring tears to his eyes. When her ashes arrived at Oxley Road in a grey marble urn three days after the funeral, he wept.

It took three months before he began returning to normal.

"Slowly, he accepted that Mrs Lee was gone," said his youngest and only surviving brother, Dr Lee Suan Yew.

It was nine months before his health stabilised, said his only daughter Wei Ling.

...

He would usually get home at around 9pm and he would spend a few moments looking at his wife's urn in the living room.

He kept to his new routine in the disciplined way with which he had led his life. But he told his friend Dr Schmidt, who visited in May 2012, that his wife's death had left a deep hole in his life and nothing could fill it.

After Mrs Lee died, elder son Hsien Loong, the Prime Minister, and his wife Ho Ching began visiting Mr Lee on Saturday afternoons whenever their schedules allowed, to keep him company. ...

Throughout, Mr Lee kept up his Mandarin lessons, and continued his exercises and outings. Titanium, as his daughter once described him in an article, is light but strong. It can bend a little, but it will not snap unless it is under overwhelming force, she wrote.

On Feb 5, he was admitted to the Singapore General Hospital, this time with severe pneumonia.

News in mid-March that he was critically ill saw an outpouring of good wishes across the island he loved and called home."

___________

A story shared by a Singaporean who bumped into them at a museum:

"He requested to push his wife. And even in his weakness and old age at that point in time, I saw him struggle to push his wife in her wheelchair. They stopped at almost every painting (I followed them behind, keeping my distance and pretending to look at those paintings too). And at every painting, he would bend down and asked her gently for her thoughts. They would share a quiet moment of discussion, and sometimes laughed together. It felt like no one else was around, and they felt very much still in love."

Sources: LKY's eulogy speech, Cassandra Chew (The Straits Times), and the 'Thank You Mr Lee Kuan Yew' FB page.