#anon go listen to higher state of consciousness

[kushblazer666]

wats a 303

wots a 303…… why in wigan it’s as good as gravy

#anon go listen to higher state of consciousness

[gotyouanyway]

the next life anon here! thanks, at least knowing there’s something relevant to their dynamic at the end makes it sort of worthwhile. re the creed of the kromon - yeah for me it was the misogynistic torture porn. in my specific case anything pregnancy related is just a super hard no so that’s why i found it so personally offputting. that’s just me though, not really a reflection on the quality of the story.

in terms of comparing it to scherzo or tnhof - in the first place i think in both cases, the story is just a lot better, which insulates them from any grossness by at least making listening to them more enjoyable. and in both cases there’s something else going on to the body horror or sexual assault. scherzo obviously is very consciously using its body horror as a vehicle to examine love and codependency but even tnhof is interrogating agency and the lack thereof under a totalitarian state. (i read the reference to rape in tnhof as a direct allusion to 1984 but idk if im right on that). i don’t love the way tnhof references assault, i don’t think the story really needed it, but it did at least have some use within the story.

creed of the kromon, on the other hand, subjects charley to metamorphosis purely for the sake of it - the worst part, and what really seals for deal for me in terms of it being unsalvageable, is that she doesn’t remember it and as of halfway through the next life it’s literally never brought up again. so we don’t get to hear her process it, there’s no examination of what this might mean for her as someone who yearns to be a mother, there’s no character moments whatsoever. l’da’s fate is classic fridging, which would be misogynistic but not really worse than other big finish audios, and so at least provides a lot of character work for c’rizz, but there is literally no point whatsoever to it happening to charley other than for the listener to hear her being subjected to it. that’s why for me anyway creed of the kromon is so egregiously bad.

to be really clear though i’m not trying to make a sweeping moral claim here! i personally did not enjoy it for those reasons but i can totally understand that what’s a dealbreaker to me absolutely wouldn’t be for someone with a higher tolerance for body horror etc. and i would be a real hypocrite to say that i’ve never enjoyed a story where a main character is tortured! those are just the reasons why for me i find it much harder to listen to than other audios with a comparable level of body horror.

ironically i do think if the stuff with charley and l’da wasn’t in it creed of the kromon would rank relatively high on my list of divergent universe eps - the story is pretty decent and i certainly found it much more interesting than the last, which i thought was just so boring. and i would put the next life below creed of the kromon in and of itself i think just because christ it’s a slog. not to mention the racist overtones and the crime of finally having daphne ashbrook in an audio and giving her a role basically indistinguishable from an early bond girl (highly derogatory). anyway, thanks for your support in these trying next life times and hope this answer is a bit helpful too!

i totally get this!! you're definitely in the majority here. it's not that i never noticed all the misogyny (i don't want to come across as someone who needs these things pointed out to me lol), i think i just responded to it differently than a lot of other people did (less disgust, more exhausted disappointment). and that's why i didn't *quite* understand the popular opinion, but i get it better now.

and i totally agree about charley.. but again i think the reason most of this stuff wasn't a total dealbreaker for me is that it's unfortunately not that unique. scherzo is never brought up again either, charley forgets what happens in the last, she doesn't even seem to give a shit when c'rizz chokes her out twice.. it's an ongoing problem of charley being hurt and not being allowed to deal with it, so to me creed is just another unfortunate example of that :/

i said more stuff in the reblogs/replies of your original ask btw! and thanks for the explanation <3

#p #asks #sorry if this is incoherent i've been talking about it for like over an hour now and i feel like i'm dying

[tarosophical-tarot]

"SOLVE ET COAGULA"

"Gnosis (mysticism become conscious of itself) is exactly what the image of The Priestess expresses both in its entirety and in its details, namely the descent of revelation (the pure act or essence reflected by substance) down to the final stage."

"The essence of pure mysticism is creative activity. One becomes a mystic when one dares to elevate oneself - i.e. "to stand upright", then even more upright, and ever more upright - beyond all created being as far as the essence of Being, the divine creative fire. "Concentration without effort" is burning without smoke or crackling fire. On the part of the human being it is the act of daring to aspire to the supreme Reality and this act is real and effective only when the soul is serene and the body completely relaxed - without smoke or crackling fire.

The essence of pure gnosis is reflected mysticism. Gnosis signifies that that which takes place in mysticism has become higher knowledge. That is, gnosis is mysticism which has become conscious of itself. It is mystical experience transformed into higher knowledge."

"That is why it is necessary to renounce "personal opinion" (the Magus in us) in order to receive the revelation of truth, "personal" action (the Priestess in us) in order to become an agent for sacred magic, the way (or method) of "personal" development (the Empress in us) in order to be guided by the Master of The Ways, and one's "personally" chosen mission (Emperor) in order to be charged with a mission from above."

(Anon. Meditations On The Tarot)

Are we then to renounce "personal things" to become an empty space to be filled by Divine initiative?

Should we become anonymous?

Regarding the six of Disks, we see this as a personal transformation described thus:

"It represents consciousness in its most harmonised form, not only in idea, as in the case of the number two. In other words, the Son is an interpretation of the Father in terms of the mind." (A.C. The Book of Thoth)

The six here is an interpretation of the Ace of Disks in terms of the mind - we are occupied with the values of our actions (inner/external), what does our earthly existence mean to us, how can we transform ourselves to find harmony in our body and soul using all the six planets seen here?

In the Cups we see that water no longer flows from them to nourish and sustain the plants.

The blossoms have withered and dried, the sea has become a stagnant pool - but a clue to salvation is found in the the outline of a butterfly (transformation into a higher consciousness) formed by the shape of roots in the image.

"It is not death that resists life but always the ego marking the boundaries against death by not letting the energies flow, accumulating them instead as protection against the fear of death." (Akron/Banzhaf)

We need therefore to actively involve ourselves in the process of letting go of old patterns and behaviours in order to experience new ones, to be like the alchemical Priestess seen in "14 - Art" incorporating our light and dark natures - to fully express who we are, to completely trust our intuition and renounce any obstacles in communicating with it.

The Priestess rules over these intuitive and unconscious powers - she combines both the dark and light side of our nature, she is the inner guide to these states and their energy.

"A great deal of what people now consider ignorance, of being themselves ignorant of what men of Old Time thought, comes from this misapprehension (of heating something in a retort over a flame, as opposed to letting it take place naturally). At the bottom of (Art/14) are seen fire+water harmoniously mingled, but this is only a crude symbol of the spiritual idea, which is the satisfaction of the desire of the incomplete element of one kind to satisfy its formula by assimilation of its equal and opposite." (A.C. The Book of Thoth)

The Priestess then is our connection between the inner world of our emotions/intuition/dreams and the external world of experience, she is "Isis the Eternal Virgin, the truth behind the veil of light, the idea behind all form.

"This is the contemplative sense, which follows on from concentration & meditation and commences the moment that discursive and logical thought is suspended. This occurs when there is the matter of a new dimension of knowledge, mainly depth. It occurs when it is a question of something deeper, the question of "true or false?" when the enquirer perceives more of the significance of the truth discovered by this discursive thought and why this truth is true in itself. We reach the mystical or essential source of this truth by listening in silence." (Lynda IH Hughes - 22 Keys To Wisdom)

"Each of us is linked to a spiritual being whom he/she calls the Holy Guardian Angel, until we have become spiritually wedded to this being, we are not fully equipped as human beings to rule the denizens of our lower nature or advance spiritually" (Lon Milo Duquette - Angels, Demons and Gods Of The New Millennium).

Aleister Crowley devised a magical word to illustrate knowledge of and conversation with this Holy Guardian Angel, a word found hidden in the imagery of the Chariot card and which symbolises the union of numbers five and six (seen either side of the Priestess here, as light and dark) - ABRAHADABRA, representing "magical change" when we combine our emotional nature to produce tangible results that have been influenced by our intuition which reminds us finally of who we really are.

"The direct wisdom of gnosis (the Priestess) and the productive power of magic (the Empress), whosever has these two, to a certain degree can found a "school"(teach). Whosoever has these two to a "still higher" degree can lay down the Law!" (Anon. Meditations On The Tarot)

"Love is the law, love under will." (A.C. The Book of the Law also known as Liber AL vel Legis)

"This is the harmony of the Universe, that Love

Unites the will to create with the understanding

Of that creation; understand thou thine own will.

Love and let Love. Rejoice in every shape of Love

And get thy rapture and nourishment thereof."

(A.C. The Book of Thoth)

#thoth tarot #tarotcommunity #aleister crowley #thothdeck #tarottribe #tarot #tarology #tarot deck #thelema

[nautiscarader]

Smutember day 25 - Three isn’t a crowd - Kim/Ron/Yori

Smutember day 25 - Three isn’t a crowd - Kim/Ron/Yori, 4k (!)

(with elements of day 16 - caught in the act)

(Ao3)

prompt for anon on CuriousCat. 

Special thanks to zekkKiray for proofreading

If you liked my story, here’s a Ko-fi link if you’d be so kind ❤️.    

==============================

- Ron! - What, Kim? - Are you crazy? Now?

Kim barked in a hushed voice, sharply turning when she felt her boyfriend, illuminated only by the lights from the nearby billboard.

- Aww, but Kim, it's been two weeks... - No buts, Ron! - she quickly cut him off, watching him frown.

She was about to turn to her side, when she heard the soft whimpering and watched as his chin and lower lip began moving to the rhythm of his vocal complaints. She opened her mouth wide, shocked beyond belief at her boyfriend's betrayal.

- You monster. Using my own weapon against me?

Ron nodded, his face still holding the same mournful expression. feeling defeated, Kim sighed, put a finger to his lips, and turned her head towards the doorway to the corridor, listening into the ambient noises of their apartment. And after a while, when she was reasonably certain they won't be heard, she smiled and spread her legs, inviting her boyfriend between them.

- Alright, Ron, you won with your horny sad puppy face. -she sighed, her voice carrying just a hint of satisfaction - But we have to be quick and qui-ET!

Kim let out a shriek and turned her head at once when instead of Ron's length she expected, she felt his tongue against her sex.  

- R-Ron!

She lifted the blanket, finding her boyfriend  eagerly sucking on her clit and lapping at her folds, while his hands kept her thighs in place-  a good idea, since his sudden intrusion would surely make her jump in place. Ron looked up, questioning the reason for her outburst.

- Whath? - he asked, with his tongue out - You haven't had a chance to relax in two weeks either. And didn't you say we need to stay quiet?

Kim's anger turned into a sly smile at her boyfriend's clever reasoning.

- Alright, smartass, keep it up.

Kim pushed his head back against her sex and bit on the edge of the blanket, ready to use it to contain any of the screams she has been holding off for the past two weeks.

The reason for the two student's forced celibacy slept on the couch in the living room, directly on the other side of the wall Kim was bracing herself against right now. Two weeks ago, Kim and Ron drove to the airport to pick up an unexpected guest - Yori, who came all the way from Japan to hone her skills in English, as well as help the Team Possible fight crimes, as the super-villains did not care that the two were attending college now.

And while the couple welcomed her old friend in their flat they were renting, and offered her hospitality that could even rival her country, after a while it became a bit problematic for he two youngsters to keep things private. They exchanged kisses and slightly more risqué touches, but every time the night fell, they were afraid that their love-making would wake her up, and given Kim's tendency to scream it was more that a valid excuse.

But all of those worries seemed to be going away with every lick of Ron's tongue, as Kim's mind was slowly going blank, as she sank into her pillow. She hadn't felt her boyfriend's skilful lips and fingers in fourteen long days and nights, and every fibre in her loins expressed it, setting her body on fire with each delicate move he performed.

She whimpered, her chest rising up and down erratically as if she has been running a marathon, as she consciously tried to limit the air she exhaled, as every breath could carry a passionate, rabid cry.

Finally, she couldn't take it - her body spasmed, her hand pressed Ron's head against her sex, and let out a primal scream into her pillow. Meanwhile, her folds muffled Ron's moan, which only intensified her climax, forcing more of her juices to coat Ron's face, which started his cries to begin with.

Kim's athletic body kept arching up and down, trying to disperse the energy from her climax without going into another higher octave. When she collapsed, she wasn't surprised to feel Ron's weight on her sneaking up at once, and welcomed the familiar hardness between her legs she hasn't felt in seemingly forever.

Aside from her quickened breath, there was a new noise filling their room, as Ron fiddled with the condom's wrapper, and watched as Kim's expression changes with each second of a delay, revealing how impatient she was underneath her superficially restraint behaviour.

- Ready, Kim?

Ron asked his girlfriend, but didn't have to hear her answer. Her legs at once closed behind his bum like a trap, and pressed his crotch against her in a precise movement only horny Kim possible could muster, as her impaling also slid the rubber onto Ron's cock. The only reason Ron didn't yell when his cock was embraced by her wet, inviting warmth was that her lips were ready for him, letting him cry into her mouth, while she moaned in return, celebrating being filled again.

Next thing they know, their bodies began rocking against each other, with Kim's legs dictating the tempo Ron's hips had to meet. Kim moaned into his lips when she felt his arms behind her back, carrying her gently above the pillow into a half-sitting position, hoping it would reduce the creaking of their bed. Kim thought that without the bed underneath her Ron would have difficulties thrusting inside her, but she feared for nothing; if anything it made it easier, and the red-head had to scream into his neck when he began rutting her in this vaguely acrobatic position.

Two long weeks have taken a toll on their patience; while she would love a slow, delicate love-making Ron has excelled at, all she could think right now was to reach her peak, one that has been tantalisingly close, and hearing Ron's heavy, rugged grunts in her ear, he was thinking about nothing else either.

Like addicts, they needed a quick fix, and in their heated embrace, they were cooking it up faster and faster, until their voices gave away their desires, filling their room with their cries.

- Kim! - Ron!

But as their climax were about to arrive, the two shared petrified looks.

Because Kim wasn't the only one crying Ron's name.

And Ron wasn't the only one wailing Kim's.

With their suddenly stopped climaxes their senses picked up a third voice, low and equally afraid.

A minute stretched into infinity as the three pondered what to do with this revelation. Finally, Kim mustered enough courage to reach their guest.

- Yori...?

A small shriek reached them from behind the wall, and it took another minute for any other sound, aside from rugged breathing to reach them. A single loose plank in their corridor gave Yori away, as the ninja sneaked on her wobbly legs to their living room entrance, but remained in the shadows.

- I... I... I apologise.

Suddenly Yori dropped to her knees and lowered her head in shame, unable to meet her hosts' stares, let alone their naked bodies.

- Kim, Ron, I... I didn't mean to... I... - That's... that's okay, Yori - Kim spoke, unsure of her own words - Don't-don't sit on the floor, you might catch cold.

She wrapped herself in her blanket and stepped of their bed to give her a hand. Yori looked up, once more shying away, until she accepted Kim's help and stood up to sit on a nearby chair.

- I...I apologise - she sniffed, repeating herself - I have mislead you, and lied to you, Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable.

Kim and Ron exchanged confused looks, as their eyes stared at their trembling guest.

- Er, how so? - Ron asked - A prophecy. I came here because of a prophecy. - Yori explained - It speaks of a brave warrior, and we have found him - she looked at Ron - But it also stated that the warrior shall meet his love, who possesses equally great power, who shall become his mate for life.

Her eyes turned towards Kim, ho hid herself underneath the same blanket.

- I told my sensei that Ron Stoppable has already found her, long ago, but I was sent here to-to make sure that-that your bond is... is strong enough. That you have joined your hearts, minds and....

She gulped.

- ...bodies.

Kim and Ron exchanged a slightly more perplexed looks, as they suddenly became aware of their half-naked bodies still pressed against each other.

- Er, Yori, that's... uh, sweet of you? - Kim spoke, unsure how to react to that statement - But... er... - But in those years I found my heart beat equally hard for you. - Yori quickly added - Not just for Ron, but for Kim too... and you, both, as-as a team... - Oh. - Ron scratched his head. - I guess we should take that as a compliment... - Kim muttered - Yori, we-we love you too, you know you are always welcomed here, and- - But that would make the prophecy wrong...! - Yori cried.  

She hid her face in her hands, as if expecting some harsh punishment from them. So when Kim's warm voice reached her ears, she lifted her head and stared at her with widen eyes.

- Well, who says so?

Ron turned towards his girlfriend with equally baffled looks, and feeling the pressure, Kim explained.

- Well, the prophecy says that the "warrior" will find "love", right? But "warrior" doesn't have to be a male. It can be a female too. And "love" can be both singular and plural. - Kim continued - So, who says that the prophecy didn't mean... you? - M-me? - Of course! - Ron added - Yori, you are the one who taught me everything in the field of ninjology! And Kim too... - That's right - Kim chuckled - I think you are underselling yourself, you have helped us more than enough times...

As light shone on Yori's face, the two could finally see a glimmer in her eyes and a faint trace of smile on her face.  

- And besides, the prophecy may talk about becoming mates for life... but did it say anything about mates for... one night?

Yori yelped, and so did Ron when the meaning of Kim's words reached him.

- Did you... did you like what you've heard? - Kim asked, lifting her blanket - When Ron took me, and was rutting me senselessly? - Kim... - Ron stuttered, but was quickly cut off by Yori. - Yes, very much so. - she nodded - I have never seen, nor heard a passion so potent than between you two.

Kim and Ron looked at each other, and after a short pause, it was time for Ron to speak a thought that has been on their minds.

- Would you like to join us?

Without waiting for Yori's response, the two scooted towards the wall, leaving half of their bed unoccupied. Yori stood up, and when after a long while she made the first step forward, she traversed the distance to the bed in one swoop, as if carried by some invisible force.

Two pairs of arms coiled around her, and she let out a deep moan, as Kim and Ron's lips met with her cheeks, sending a storm of shivers throughout her body.

- Yori, if we do anything you don't want... just say a word. - Kim added - The last thing we want is for you to feel uncomf-

But Kim's words were lost in Yori's mouth, when she closed her arms behind her head and kissed her, leaving not only her but Ron in a state of awe. But Ron learned exactly what Kim must have felt when Yori launched herself towards him, and for the very first time in long five years, his lips were pressed against another woman's, setting every nerve of his body on fire.

When she stopped kissing her friends, she saw the petrified looks on their faces, and for a split of second, she thought she started too strong with her declaration of love. But then the same lips she kissed were on her, caressing her cheeks, neck, shoulders, and once Kim's hands dealt with her night gown, her breasts.

- Well, that's a first for me... - Kim muttered when she licked her nipple. - And a first for me too. - Ron added - Kim, can I...? - Dig in, you silly boy. - Kim spoke, unable to believe her own words.

Kim pressed his head against Yori's left breast, while she took care of her right one. Yori threw her head back, under the onslaught of emotions that overwhelmed her and she was not prepared for. Her legs thrashed underneath her friends' bodies. And she let out a primal scream when not one, but two sets of fingers found its way to her crotch, and when they met, Kim and Ron looked at each other and laughed.

- Looks like we've had the same idea. - Yeah, let's show our guest what love really means.

Just like with her breasts being taken care of by their two mouths, two fingers slipped inside Yori's pussy, much to her disbelief. She could clearly feel the difference in Kim's and Ron's styles; Kim was more delicate, yet slightly too cautious, while Ron's bravery made up for his lack of subtlety.

Kim kissed her breasts again, circling her nipple, while Ron peppered her stomach with quick, butterfly kisses. She felt-light-headed seeing her boyfriend making love to a different woman, the same she was adoring too. In any other situation, she would feel furious, ready to use any weapons she had to win him over if she even so much as touched him.

And now, she was caressing her, driven by a carnal, animalistic force that only rose in strength with each minute of their fondling. Soon Yori was whimpering something incomprehensible, and it was up to Kim, closing her mouth over Yori's sensitive clit to bring her to her climax, the same one she has been building ever since she heard Ron and Kim rustling half an hour ago.

Yori cried their names, and her body quaked, covering their fingers in copious amounts of slick juices. She hasn't stopped trembling, when Kim leaned forward and faced her, with droplets of her juices clinging to her lips.

- Yori? - she asked her guest - Do you want to see our love in action? - Y-Yes! - she exclaimed, looking back and forth at Kim and Ron, unsure what they will think of next. - Good, cos you are not the only who was robbed of a climax.

Kim straddled her and gently pressed her naked body against Yori's, feeling the texture of her, slightly smaller breasts on hers. Their lips got closer, and soon, the two young women were kissing again, deepening the embrace that just a day ago was unthinkable to either of them.

Lost in their sensual kiss, the two yelped when they suddenly felt something slick sliding between their joined folds, and only a rugged breath of Ron on Kim's neck reminded them of their third lover.

- Come on Ron, now you have twice the chances to prove yourself...

Kim wasn't surprised when she saw Yori's eyes widening as Ron dived inside her, giving Kim just a faint taste of his manhood's texture as it slid alongside her folds. Yori stared at Ron's eyes, as he laid his head on Kim's shoulder, her arms closing around both of her lovers.

Unlike the last time, Ron was on an unfamiliar territory, so his dives were slow and calculated, giving Kim chance to explore Yori's body with her mouth. A Mouth that soon also let out a sharp moan when Ron swiftly decided to change his object of admiration, slipping into her pussy for a few more pushes.

And so, with each minute, Ron was taking turns, pleasuring each of his ladies, alternating between two tight pussies that oozed with more and more of slick juices with each moment of their heated love-making. Yori's and Kim's bodies tangled, creating an equally tight embrace that rocked in its own tempo, especially with their hands gently caressing their most sensitive parts.

Ron on the other hand, was moving at his own speed, marvelling at the heavenly feeling of two sexes he could fill with his length. Whenever he pleased one girl, the other one received just a glimpse of what could happen to her next, and sure enough, in just a few moments the vicious cycle continued, building up their heat and intensity that pushed them closer and closer towards their peaks.

Under the caresses from not one, but two lovers, so openly accepting of her, it was no surprise that Yori was the first to start whimpering against Kim's lips, with Kim being just a step or two behind her. The combination of Yori's and Ron's grip on her put her in the middle of their sandwich, and on equally quick path to her climax.

And as their voices grew, Ron decided he can no longer choose; instead of filling either of their pussies, he rammed himself between them, feeling the overwhelming texture of two pairs of lips quivering around him, just a split of second before their voices and bodies exploded.

- Kim! - Yori! - Ron! - both girls cried at the same time, as the trio continued rocking their bodies back and forth.

With their names on their lips, and Ron's cock sliding between their joined pussies, their bodies shuddered with an explosive orgasms. Their arms reached for each other, bringing them closer, increasing the pressure they exerted on their boyfriend.

Kim was the first to recover, and hearing Ron's whimpering behind her, she concocted a devilish plan for their new partner. In the split of a second before his release, she reached between their joined, shivering bodies and yanked the condom from Ron's cock, sending a sly grin to Yori, who understood what was going to happen.

Feeling their pussies without his latex prison, Ron's climax not only accelerated but became a thousand times more powerful. Ron let out a primal, wild cry that sounded like his ladies' names combined, as his hips began moving on their own, filling the non-existent pussy with his essence.

And Yori could experience Ron's virility first hand. In the same moment of his primal cry, she looked directly at his cock, sliding between their bodies, and as a result, the first batch if his seed was short directly at her face, forcing her to turn away. But then, as more and more of Ron's sticky, warm strands began covering her body, she turned back and even opened her lips, welcoming a rope or two of his salty seed into her mouth, a sight Kim possible was pleased to see from her high ground.

Two weeks of celibacy manifested themselves in front of them, as Yori's body slowly became more and more glazed with Ron's seed, until only  few patches of her skin remained uncovered.

Ron's rugged, raspy breath filled the ears of his lovers, and Kim braced herself to feel his tired body against her back, but Ron quite gallantly slumped to the side, though his eyes widened when he saw his work on Yori's body, so much so his cock twitched once more, sending every last feeble strand of semen across the bed.

- So, what do you think? - Kim asked, dragging her finger across the pool of cum on Yori's stomach - Do you think my boyfriend is good enough to be my mate? - Oh... oh yes, Kim Possible. - Yori spoke, swiping some of Ron's hefty orgasm from her face.- I... I shouldn't have doubted you... - Though of course, if you think I am his foretold mate, then logically, that belongs to me, doesn't it?

Kim scooped some of his cum and raised her brow, first at Yori, and then, as the corners of her mouth curled, at Ron. before he knew, a sight he never thought he would ever see was happening in front of his eyes as Kim leaned and began licking clean Yori's body, her loud, slurping noises silencing his erratic breathing.

Kim was meticulous, travelling alongside the path of each strand covering Yori's body, though she was taking a bit longer around her nipples, even though the cum there has managed to drip to the side of her mounds. Yori let out a gasp when she felt Kim's hand between her legs, and her sudden jolt made a few drops of cum change places, something Kim at once corrected, gathering them all in her mouth.

And just when Ron thought this would make his heart stop, Kim had one more trick up her non-existsent sleeve. She turned towards Yori and spoke, with some difficulties.

- But I am willing to share some of it...

And just when Yori was about to reach another climax, Kim's lips joined hers, and in the dark room, illuminated only by the lights from outside, Ron had a clear view of strands of pearly-white cum between their lips, swapped back and forth in a series of erotic kisses that would have made him collapse.

The girls turned their heads towards him at once.

- Ron? You okay? - Oh... oh god, Kim, that was...

His stuttered response was met only with their giggles, though both Kim and Yori helped him get to his knees after the sight of their erotic play made him lose himself once more. Kim quickly reached for the paper towel and offered it to Yori as a proper cleaning method - from her guess she would need to spend another ten minutes cleaning up Ron's mess.

- Thank..Thank you, Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable. - she addressed them both - Now I know for sure that the fate... and the future of the world is in good hands. Or-how do you say it-balls?

She looked at Ron's half-hardened cock, then at Kim, and a moment later, they all burst into laughter.

- Though, Yori, er... - Kim started, somewhat embarrassed - We are in the middle of our college education, so, we... we're not gonna star a family now right now... - Unless an accident happen. - Ron added, scratching his head. - Which we usually try to prevent. - Which means...

Kim's worried voice suddenly turned sly.

- ..that technically your mission isn't over, is it? After all, a lot can happen between now and, er... whenever... - I suppose... - Yori spoke, seeing the sly spark in Kim's eyes. - Which means I should stay and make sure the fate of the world is safe, right? - My reasoning exactly. What to do you say, Ron?

The two girls slowly turned towards their lover, whose eyes were getting wider and wider every second, as he slowly understood the repercussions of this decision.

- BOOYAH! - he exclaimed, much to girls' amusement.

And before they could react, he was kissing them, back and forth, rolling on their bed, slowly coaxing them into another round of love-making. Yori handed him a condom, and quite soon she felt the master of Mystical Monkey Power fill her again, though this time her vision was partially obscured by Kim's crotch Yori started licking at once.

When the morning arrived, and Kim woke up, at least two hours later than she would usually do, a few things became apparent: for once, they were going to need to buy a new, bigger bed. Secondly, they would have to switch to pills, as there was no way Ron would remember about condoms with two beautiful ladies in their flat. And thirdly, Rufus would have to cook breakfasts for three from now on.)

#kim/ron/yori #Kim possible #Ron stoppable #yori #smutember #smutember2020 #lemon #nautiscaraderfics

[trashyeggroll]

'storm' for ramvers:) also i loved your ramvers fic(s)! didn't know you wrote for then too. every ship ive soo much as looked at you've got it covered lol.

🤩 thanks anon!! so many good ships, not enough waking/not working hours in the day. ramvers is absolutely one of my favorites to write, the fluff potential is just as endless as the angst. also i am 90s kid so the references in the movie felt like a personal attack

#11 Storm: a too-long backstory sandbox 😅

For days, the meteorologists had watched and issued warnings about the tropical storm barreling across the southern Atlantic and along the Gulf of Mexico. On August 3, 1970, the upgraded Hurricane Celia it made landfall near Corpus Christi, Texas, wreaking havic on the coastal town, knocking down buildings like dominoes, washing away roads like sand, and roaring with winds that sounded like rocket shells to the families who had remained, huddled in shelters and basements and bathrooms.

One of them had been six-year-old Maria Rambeau, frozen with terror as she sat frozen with terror in her family’s dark basement. It sounded to her like the world was ending at the top of the stairs, and water had started leaking through the walls, puddling in the low spots in the floor. Maria clung to her older brother’s arm while they stared in silence at the rumbling ceiling, occasionally releasing a cloud of dust and dirt after a particularly loud bang. Maria felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink for fear that her whole world would be ripped away.

When the storm passed, Maria emerged to find half of their house gone, smashed to splinters, and in the ensuing days, as the Rambeaus packed up to relocate with family in Louisiana, the death toll in Texas would top out at 15, and Celia would long hold the title of the costliest storm in the state’s history.

As the years passed, Maria learned to manage her fear of storms, of thunderclaps and dark skies at high noon. She might’ve enlisted in the Navy if not for the way trickling water still made her pulse tick faster, and the very thought of being surrounded on all sides in the belly of a metal ship for months on end… No, the skies were Maria’s home, and besides, nobody flew fighters in storms.

Much to her chagrin, Monica loved storms, a trait very likely learned from Carol, who after growing up in the land of tornadoes found hurricane season somewhat quaint… especially after gaining her powers. A bolt of natural lightning would be like an ant bite to Captain Marvel, and gale-force winds like a pleasant breeze.

That had been something of a problem in the years that Carol had been missing. Their daughter had lost her example of confidence and wonder, and too often, Maria had felt too nervous herself to properly comfort Monica through roaring storms that tore the limbs off trees and shingles from their roof. Monica was strong, though, and during storms or clear skies, she made Maria more and more proud of her with each passing day.

Still, Maria was tired of cowering before storms. She’d zipped through space in extraterrestrial crafts, held laser guns and battled movie monsters come to life. Storms seemed like a reasonable foe to conquer.

Carol had listened to her plan with widening eyes, and when those ran out of real estate, her eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. “That is… dramatic.”

“Says twinkle fists,” Maria shot back, arms crossed over her chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you sure you can hold up your end?”

The mild challenge made Carol scoff, and Maria knew the conversation was over before the blonde added, “Pfft. Easy.”

And so, on July 18, 1997, almost three decades after the night in the family basement, Maria Rambeau instesd donned a lightweight spacesuit that Carol brought her from another world. Her wife still looked a bit worried as she fastened the last airtight cuff, her forehead adorably wrinkled when she stepped back.

“I want to do this,” Maria murmured into her helmet, which would transmit to Carol’s own suit. “And… I’ll have you there, with me.”

The blonde’s expression softened, and her lips quirked into a smile as Maria grasped her hand, giving it an extra squeeze for good measure. Usually, she could feel the heat from her supercharged wife’s skin, but the suit effectively blocked it, and she supposed that was good for what was about to happen.

“No pressure,” Carol stilled joked against her lips, and Maria gently thunked her helmet against the superhero’s forehead. It was a poor stand-in for a kiss, but Carol would probably make her refit the whole suit if she disengaged the face shield, and it got her signal of affection across.

The first drops of rain were starting to plink against the metal roof of Maria’s workshop, and she blinked reflexively at the drops spattering against the glass shielding her eyes when they stepped out from the shop’s refuge. Carol folded her arms around Maria’s chest, attaching a bungee cord between their suits for good measure, and after a quick 3-2-1 countdown, they jettisoned together into the darkening sky.

Hurricane Danny roared ahead, drenching the Louisiana delta, and Maria’s heart started thudding against her ribcage. It certainly looked different, from a few hundred feet in the air. Carol’s alien fire burned up the rain before it reached them, but Maria could feel the outer winds, and each flash of lightning turning the sky to daylight made her muscles tense. But Carol was right there, holding her firmly to her chest, giving her encouraging squeezes whenever she felt Maria go stiff.

The hurricane-force winds were at the eye of the beast, but Carol didn’t take her through them; the superhero turned and zoomed higher, until the rain broke over their heads, and it was just stars above. Maria would never tire of that view.

“Look,” Carol’s tinny voice chirped in her ear.

Maria tilted her chin down as they stopped to hover in place. She’d seen astronauts’ photos of hurricanes before, but they didn’t do an ounce of justice to the effect. The slow swirl of the clouds, the way lightning illuminated puffy sections in white-blue. The storm was still mostly over the ocean, tracking a strange, jagged path across the gulf states.

“It’s almost pretty,” Maria said, not entirely consciously. “From up here. But I’d hate to be on a boat down there, right now.”

Carol’s glow brightened. “I’ve seen better.”

Maria twisted a little in her arms, enough to see the cheesy grin her wife was flashing over her shoulder, nose wrinkled. “You stop.”

“What? I’m adjusting your associations with storms. And I meant it.” The blonde adjusted her hold as Maria turned back around, dropping one hand to grip Carol’s tightly. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Maria had no sooner sighed the words before Carol took off, hurtling them back down, towards the massive eye of the hurricane. This time, Maria closed her eyes against the rush of panic, fighting off flashing memories from her childhood—the helplessness, the way her imagination turned breaking beams into skyfall.

“It’s just heat and water, that’s all,” Carol was saying as they dove through the clouds, purposefully dipping ito the place where the winds blew hardest, and the rain became a sheet. The sound, even through her suit, drowned out nearly every thought, all sound completely overtaken by endless water… and she could still feel Carol holding her tight. Her arms were sure and her flight steady. Maria opened her eyes.

Behind her face shield, it almost looked as though they were moving through a choppy ocean, except for the bubble of safety in Carol’s glow, and Maria imagined this might be how it felt to be in one of those ocean cages, where you could get “up close and personal” with sharks. Except, Maria’s foe was on all sides, and her metal cage was the strongest in the universe. Heat and water. Life or death, depending on the form. That, the engineer in her understood well.

Maria’s nerves seem to peak along with the winds, like a wave breaking on a rocky shore, and a final burst of adrenaline had her shouting into her helmet, a crowing victory call that no one but Carol and the hurricane could hear, and her wife’s musical laughter filled her earpiece.

Veering sharply to the right, Carol took them through the wall of the storm, and as suddenly as they’d dove into danger, they were floating in cool, calm air, high over an churning ocean. Water fell off them in a miniature falls, and Carol gingerly turned Maria in her arms.

“Better?”

“Better,” agreed Maria, reaching up to open her helmet, now that they’d returned to human-friendly heights. “Just heat and water.”

Carol nodded, smiling as Maria looked around the surreal column over the ocean, illuminated by the moon and Captain Marvel herself. When she turned back, Maria couldn’t help but capture her wife’s lips in a kiss, taking another small victory in the way they dipped in the air and Carol’s small noise of surprise.

#not entirely happy with this #but regardless THANK YOU for the prompt #trashy writing #ramvers #danbeau #long post #the keep reading isn't working

[storyofchelle]

Are you happy?

Anon, your question has made me reflect and even ask my closest friends.

Here’s my final answer:

I think there is this concept of “being happy” that is conquering modern society or rather that it already has. I think life is about balance and finding compassion, for yourself mainly and others. The goal shouldn’t be to be “happy” - the goal should be to make the best out of every situation, out of every damn day. Pain demands to be felt, this is inevitable. It is human and to think this is not normal or if you have a sad day that you’re not “happy”... The goal, again, should be to be as joyful as possible instead of this idea of consistently being happy.

I’ve been playing around with consciousness and observing my habits from a higher perspective. Seeing what I don’t energetically match with and what I can build on. The improvements I’ve made already make me so proud I could cry. But it also pushes me to continue. The days where I am triggered or I succumb to my ego are teaching days. I am in this constant cycle of observing and improving, observing and improving. I’ve never been more solid with myself in my entire life.

So am I happy?

My immediate answer is yes. What is there not to be happy about? I am healthy, my family is healthy, my dogs are healthy. I have a roof over my head, I eat nourishing foods and drink water everyday, a privilege many do not have. I am surrounded by beautiful individuals who love me for who I am and encourage my growth. I own at least 100 books, a start to my entire life’s library. I meditate every day. I listen to music of some sort everyday. I try to incorporate movement as often as I can – I am healthy, strong, and powerful. I grow a little bit everyday, even on the bad days.

I guess, instead of claiming to be happy, I would say I live in a constant state of gratitude. There is an abundance of beauty on Gaia – each day I am amazed by her mastery. There is an abundance of life, of love, of knowledge, of lessons, of growth. An abundance of laughter, of precious moments and experiences, of songs that move you, of things to discover about oneself and its place in this infinite Universe. Don’t get me wrong, I have dark moments, days, and even weeks. But I have learned that the sinking pain is a hidden gift from the Cosmos for ascension. I invite everything and everyone into my life as lessons, teachers, whether ongoing or temporary. Blooming into myself, slowly embodying my Higher Self has been the most empowering and motivating experience of my life – and I have only just begun. I am addicted to the depth of this existence, of which we cannot fully comprehend. So long as I am connected with Source energy, I will always be “happy”.

The darkness that plagues our world hurts me deeply and I am not ignorant to the ugliness of this existence. I trust that I have a purpose in aiding, whether it be climate research, wildlife conservation, spreading the power of yoga, or simply raising the vibration of this planet. Hopefully all of the above, truth be told. I believe the yin and yang forces of the Universe – it exists in all there is. This we cannot change or control. What matters is how the energy is digested; where is the energy being directed to?

Could I be happier? Maybe! I have the whole world left to see and experience. I have much further to go in my spiritual journey. I haven’t yet reached full independence. I am basking in my solitude which I have fallen in love with but it would be nice to have my companion in the future, when the time is right. I haven’t moved to a different country yet. There are certain goals, additions, and changes to my life that could certainly accentuate my peace and joy. Nonetheless, my existence at this moment in time is where I am meant to be and nothing else could make me happier.

Falling in love with me is the best quest I’ve ever chosen.

The light in me sees and honors the light in you.

Namaste.

[billdenbrough]

is eddie neville longbottom

anon i have been flicking to this ask in my head for literally hours and i’m at… maybe? like i think it depends what you mean. 

wrt differences, neville has never been able to have a sheltered existence (they both exist in situations of trauma, but neville’s is growing up in the wake of it, and eddie’s is both growing up in an abusive home & the pretty significant trauma of dealing with pennywise—-like, neville ends up thrown into war and fighting death eaters, but that’s more of a resurgence than anything… he knows what the death eaters are, what they can do, and even at fifteen and injured and in the arms of death eaters, he’s still adamant that harry not give over the prophecy, not for him… like that’s the behaviour of someone intimately familiar with their power, because he grew up in a family that had been irreparably hurt by them, whereas wrt pennywise, while eddie has always grown up with sonia’s awful treatment, pennywise is still a different type of monster/experience, which is why i classify them as separate traumas as opposed to how neville’s is always defined by the same circumstances of pain) which i think leads to a very different outlook on the world. i also think the losers club are much closer than neville was to any of his fellow gryffindors, and that eddie is more centrally located in the narrative than neville was (he’s absolutely up there, but he’s secondary, i think, in a way the losers can’t be, but also that eddie specifically is not—-he largely has an individual and independent arc, and in fact affects other people’s arcs (namely richie’s), and has character autonomy that i think neville lacks (to the same degree, anyway, he definitely has it), which is likely just a virtue of the writing style (i.e., even if one argued that bill is the protag for it, then the other six are still the ron and hermiones of it all (i’m not even sure i agree with that reading becaue even across seven books, while we get a very strong sense of their characters, having the losers’ points of view creates an even stronger sense of self, i think), and neville is… maybe will hanlon, alongside sirius/arthur/remus/etc.), but still affects where i’m at with this

on the other hand, similarities. there’s the treatment from maternal figures, though in differing degrees (meaning augusta here for neville, not alice—-and i don’t want to reduce the effect augusta had, because she belittles him, she does, and she looks at him and expects to see her son again, and the weight of expectation… is fucking hard? and unfair? but at the same time, i don’t want to reduce sonia’s actions at all with false comparisons, so i’m just saying here that they have quite imposing maternal figures, whose actions and care differ greatly, and affect them in different ways), and the… for lack of a better term, lack of self-belief. (i do think that’s slightly reductive, though; i think neville has always lacked self-confidence because he’s constantly being held to the specific standard of being his father, and that’s something he simply can’t achieve and frankly shouldn’t have to; and i think eddie’s been conditioned and shaped by his mother his entire life to not expect himself to be able to embody the values he holds, because he’s ‘sick’, and bravery is for other people, like bill, like richie (eddie is 10x braver than richie, but richie is Loud and Present, and something in that feels like bravery to eddie sometimes; richie is ambitious and has dreams and reaches higher than any of them, and eddie listens to him speak and the absolute magnetism in his voice, and even though he can see the flaws in the plans that nobody else is pointing out, he still listens, still believes), not him…. except, well, it constantly is. like, even ignoring his big brave moments and just thinking abt the conditioning and abusive parenting he endured… he was constantly rebelling in little ways, in little moments? which is a marked difference to how neville navigates the world for the majority of the series—-because he absolutely grows a mouth at the end of it all, and he has his brave, stubborn moments, where he’s scared but steps forward anyway, but those are always Things, not exactly like eddie’s quiet constant rebellions)

but! there’s definitely something in terms of how their Big Brave Moments manifest. 

“It’s just a fucking Eye! Fight It! You hear me? Fight It, Bill! Kick the shit out of the sucker! Jesus Christ you fucking pussies I’m doing the Mash Potatoes all over It AND I GOT A BROKEN ARM!”

&

“Yeah,” said Neville. “That’s how I got this one,” he pointed at a particularly deep gash in his cheek, “I refused to do it. […] I got this one,” he indicated another slash to his face, “for asking her how much Muggle blood she and her brother have got.”“Blimey, Neville,” said Ron, “there’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.”“You didn’t hear her,” said Neville. “You wouldn’t have stood it either. The thing is, it helps when people stand up to them, it gives everyone hope. I used to notice that when you did it, Harry.”“But they’ve used you as a knife sharpener,” said Ron, wincing slightly as they passed a lamp and Neville’s injuries were thrown into even greater relief.Neville shrugged.“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.”

i don’t think either of these are necessarily their bravest moments (i mean, eddie literally dies for his friends & neville fucking defies voldemort in front of everyone and later decapitates nagini) but they’re the two that came to mind immediately for comparative purposes. there’s just something about the way they’re the ones who Stand Up, and Stand For something, and inspire everyone else to as well. and there’s an absolute lack of self-consciousness here, of self-doubt. it’s just unadulterated bravery, and what needs to be done. (to be fair: neville does state he doesn’t believe he’s at risk of death, whereas eddie clearly is & also pushes everyone because they’re at risk of death… but counterpoint: i don’t actually believe that neville’s pureblood status would actually have saved him, not at the rate he was going, and definitely not in battle or war, and he kept on going anyway.)

i guess where i’m at with this is… there are similarities in how their bravery can manifest in Big Moments, but i think due to their differences in experience (bc there are def similarities in their experiences, but the details that differ affect them immensely), they’re not actually… character parallels. that said, i do tend to think that with the losers, mapping them onto specific hp characters is a much more Trying (and perhaps not as interesting) task than exploring their houses in general, so it’s totally possible that it’s just my mindset that makes this harder for me. also VERY totally possible that you were just hoping for a pithy answer and i fucking sprung all of this on you, i’m so sorry fdshjkllhjk

tl;dr —- i think neville wouldn’t be able to defeat It, at least not as a child, whereas eddie’s the loser who It is Most Afraid Of

#did any of this make sense?? idk #i drag half a can of coke to try make my head sit straight for responding here #long post // #eddie kaspbrak #media parallels #answered #neville longbottom #ig #Anonymous #v open 2 being wrong/convinced in other directions here tho if anyone else has Thoughts #my brain is still dead from capitalism tbh #prev. richietozler #abuse ment // #parental abuse ment // #emotional abuse ment //

[angrylizardjacket]

double shot. {John Deacon} /SMUT\

Anon asked: Okay so I absolutely love your writing, AMD I'm an absolute thot, so I was wondering if you could potentially wrote something where the reading is a friends of the band, and one night when they're out at a party together the reader gets a confidence boost and tries to get a little "Freaky with Deacy"....if you catch my drift.

A/N: 3380 words. I’m hot for 1981 Montreal!Deaky, but what’s new. Pretend he’s single and that Roger’s green hair makes sense in the timeline. SMUT!! Unprotected sex and drunk sex. (also ignore the weak ending, no that’s no inuendo, i mean of the fic, but it’s 7am and i’ve been writing all night i just want this done).

“You look like an idiot.” You’re not even looking at Roger when you say it, eyes fixed firmly on the dance floor as you stirred the ice in your mostly empty glass.

“I think I look rather dashing.” Roger, ever the relentless narcissist, and unfortunately one of your closest friends, is also only paying you about fifty percent attention where he’s got his eye on some girl by the bar.

“Your hair’s green.” You try to flick your little, cardboard straw at him, but it misses, and snaps him from his own distraction to notice yours, after it lands on his shoulder.

“Well not on purpose.” Running his hands through his hair a little self consciously, he finally follows your gaze to one dancing bass player in the crowd, “you ever going to stop making mooney-eyes and just go and shag him?”

“Excuse you, Roger!” You splutter, finally tearing your gaze away from John to level a glare at former blonde beside you, embarrassment heating your cheeks. His smile sharpened at your obvious flusteredness, and he finishes his drink with far more confidence than he should rightly have in his cosmetic state. 

“You think I spend all day staring at a wall, blatantly ignoring the way you eye-fuck him from side of stage?” Putting his glass down with a thump, Roger’s grin turns amused as his gaze slides to catch glimpses of John bopping his way over to the bar through the crowd. “Not that he’s any better.”

“What about you?” Despite how pleased his words made you, you were quick to turn the conversation around. “You going to make a move on whoever your poor target for tonight is?”

“You make me sound like I’m hunting these poor women,” he huffed, clearly indignant, “and anyway, it’s a totally different situation, it’s not like I’ve been pining over Stephanie for months.”

“You haven’t even talked to her, how do you know her name?” Glancing over at the woman by the bar, she keeps glancing over at the two of you, well, at Roger, and her drink is getting dangerously low; you know he’s getting close to making his move. 

“I don’t, but she looks like a Stephanie,” he paused, his smile sliding to a smirk as he winks at the girl by the bar. You don’t look over to catch her reaction, but judging by the glint in Roger’s eye, it was a good one, “maybe a Michelle.” 

“Also, it hasn’t been months, and it hasn’t been pining, I just...” And if your voice slipped into a little bit of a whine as you found yourself watching John by the bar, Roger, for once in his life, was kind enough not to comment on it.

“You just want to shag Alcatraz, I know.” Roger gave you a cheeky smile, which you scowled at. “Sorry, love, forgot you were hot for the short-haired look.” He snorted, though you didn’t deny it. “Listen, just put all of us out of our misery and,” he pauses for a minute, brow creasing as he stood from his chair, “I don’t know, something about basses and fucking, you get the idea.” 

“You have such a way with words,” you grimace, sarcasm heavy in your voice, “at least get me a drink while you’re over there.” He rolls his eyes at your request, but agrees easily. “Make it two!” You call as an afterthought. 

Of course part of you assumes that you’re never getting those drinks; the moment Roger’s within five feet of that woman at the bar, he’ll forget your very existence until he wakes up the next morning, and he’ll have zero regrets, at least regarding you. Not that you begrudge him for that, you knew him too well to expect anything else. 

The music from the jukebox is playing loud enough over the sea of people that you can feel the beat in your bones, and as your earlier drink starts to set in, you let yourself sway in your seat to the music, contemplating getting a drink for yourself, though it turns out you don’t need to.

“I was told to deliver these to you.” Deaky’s grinning, carefully placing two drinks onto the table in front of you, keeping a third in his own hands. Your pleasant surprise at the sight of him turns to exasperation as you look to the bar and see Roger giving you a jaunty wave and a shiteating grin. 

“Of course you were.” Your smile returns to John, and you pat the vacant seat beside you. “Come on, if you go back out there, you’ll end up spilling it all over yourself.” John flushes at that, casting a gaze at the crowd on the dance floor, before he looks back to you, his smile widening as he settled in beside you.

It had only been a few years since you’d joined the bands tour crew as an assistant stylist, though they liked to affectionately refer to you as their professional groupie. You took the nickname in stride, however, after all, the only things the main stylist ever gave you for them was a hairbrush and eyeliner, and you trusted the band well enough to brush their own hair.

Tours are messy and too close for comfort, you quickly learned, and after a few weeks of awkwardly leaning over them and pretending like they hadn’t been passed out and hungover more times than you can keep track of, you take your one job in stride and asked Freddie if you could just sit in his lap to put on his eyeliner and save you all some embarrassment.

“Of course, darling, I don’t bite,” There was a twinkle in his eye, “at least, not during business hours.” He finishes, but ultimately, he was mostly respectful, as they all were, Roger notwithstanding until after you kicked him in the shins and threatened to aim higher next time.

“I like your perfume.” John had always been very quiet whenever you were with him, so it came as a surprise when, halfway through applying his eyeliner, he pays you an unexpected compliment.

“Thank you,” you’re a little flustered, a little uncertain, you’d watched him perform for almost a month at this point and you’d developed maybe the teeniest crush on him, “I like your music.” Mentally you’re berating yourself, you actually have to take a moment to pause and frown over your own choice of words. He takes it in stride easily enough.

“I would hope so,” he starts, tone deceptively mild as his eyes flutter open to gauge your reaction, “otherwise this must be some form of cruel and unusual punishment.” And that’s enough to startle a laugh from you, the sound bringing a smile to his own lips as you lean back for a moment, and you feel his light tough on your waist where he’s steadying you.

As the months and tours and music videos go by, he quickly becomes your favourite (he’d always been your favourite, you were just less likely to admit it before) and he, much to your surprise, quickly begins to favour you too. Conversation comes easily, though he seems to prefer to talk when you’re applying his eyeliner, voice quiet, his hands resting on your thighs where you’ve got a leg either side of him where he’s sitting. Every so often when you’re buzzing about the space after you’re finished with him, he’ll shoot you a smile, or if you make a joke, more often than not you’ll hear his quiet laughter.

The fact that every time you watch him perform or even just dance, you wanted to bang him - how did that song go again? Oh right - all day long, that had just become an undercurrent of your life that you tried to ignore. He was your friend and you technically worked for him and- god damn it, it got harder and harder to keep coming up with excused not to make a move on him, especially when the others were so pointedly trying to get you together. 

So maybe tonight, thanks to the drinks Roger bought you (double shot, the both of them, that cheeky bastard), and Deaky looking particularly good in that all blue outfit, was the night you finally made a move on the bopping bassist of Queen. Or, you consider as he’s got his hand around your wrist, tugging gently you towards the dance floor as you quickly finish your drink a while later, he might make a move on you. Actually, you don’t mind the sound of that.

The world turns blurry at the edges, a kaleidoscope of lights bouncing off the walls and dancers. Sometimes he’s holding you, by the hand, by the waist, always moving to the beat, always so careful, sometimes he’s twirling you and for one heart-stopping moment you feel like you’re flying, and distantly you know that what goes up must come down, but he catches you before you spin out too far, having never left solid ground to begin with. He doesn’t let you fall.

“I’ve got you.” He assures, hand on the small of your back. He’s so close, practically nose to nose, his smile so familiar yet surprisingly cheeky, though part of you suspects it’s due to the drinks, at least in part. So is the courage you gain for your next move, though.

You kiss him, in the middle of the dance floor, crushing your lips against his as you pull him in by his collar. When his grip on you tightens just a little and he kisses you back, you feel relief flood through you that you hadn’t realised you’d been waiting for. When he pulls back, he’s full on beaming at you. There’s a pause, a hesitation, an uncertainty, like maybe he wants to kiss you again, or pull you back to the dance floor, but then someone stumbles into you, almost spilling their on you, and Deaky pulls you back in time.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” You ask, as someone knocks into him from the dance floor, and it’s as if you suddenly remember how stuffy and crowded it is.

“I’d love to.” He agrees. 

The taxi ride back to the hotel is giggly and sloppy, at one point he presses a kiss to your nose, and it sends you into a fit of giggles, which only serves to make him grin brighter.

“Was that not the right spot?” He asked, bright and faux innocent, and you’re trying to quell your laughter as he takes your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your forehead. You actually snort at that. “Warmer?” He asked with a grin, still holding your face. After a moment, he squishes your cheeks together and bursts out laughing. Once he drops his hands, you grin.

“No, I think-” and you cut yourself off by pressing your lips to his temple, before pulling back a little and humming, before going back in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His laughter dies down and he catches your face as you go to lean back, instead pulling you in for a proper, passionate kiss. He hums, pleased against your lips, pulling you practically into his lap in the back of the taxi, and you feel your body already humming with anticipation. In this moment, you’ve never wanted anything more than him.

With him it’s not rushed, but it’s passionate, and fun above all else. You’re both still tipsy; he’s grinning and humming something familiar as you help pull his shirt over his head, letting himself fall backwards onto the bed when he hits the edge of it, beckoning you to him. You straddle him where he’s laying back, and he takes his time to admire you,hands sliding beneath the fabric of your shirt, to ghost over your stomach and land at your hips. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his lips, your hands coming to meet his as you teasingly lick at his bottom lip before sitting back up and impatiently pull your own shirt over your head.

There’s that admiring look again, but something about it fills you with warmth, the look in his eyes like he’s blessed to see such a sight. His hands come up to rest at your waist, moving to the small of your back so he can guide you to him for another kiss. This time he wastes no time, and unclasps your bra with surprising ease, helping you out of it without breaking the kiss as it becomes more desperate. Your bare chest against his, the giddy teasing fades in to want, as one of his hands finds your hip, encouraging you wordlessly as you begin to grind against him. His other hand grazes up your side, nails scraping gently against your sensitive skin, eliciting a gasp, back arching at the touch. With you hovering above him, the hand at your side comes to cup one of your boobs, squeezing for a moment before he kisses the gentle swell of it, his lips trailing down until he’s sitting upright and pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

Looking back up at you, his pupils are blown wide, and he kisses you with a ferocity you hadn’t anticipated. His mouth is hot when he presses kisses to the column of your throat, his hands on your thighs where you’ve got your legs wrapped around him, shifting and grinding in his lap, desperate for some sort of friction, or for the both of you to be wearing less pants.

“Pants.” You finally gasp out, scrambling from his lap and unbuckling your own jeans in a desperate hurry. “Pants off.” You clarify to his confusion.

“Good call.” He agrees, and he’s beaming again, as if he his heart isn’t racing and the sight of you, so desperate to get undressed and fuck him, doesn’t making him unbearably hard. You can’t help but be a little flustered by his smile, among other things. By the time you’ve gotten your pants and panties off, he’s got his jeans mostly off, he’s just struggling with one leg.

“You need help?” You ask, and he looks up, as if finally seeing you, and he actually blushes.

“A little.” He admits, and you tug off the jeans with ease. Standing over him with a triumphant smile, he looks you over like he’s trying to savour the moment; no-one’s ever looked at you quite like that before, like they were simultaneously in awe of and hungry for you. “Where were we?” He asks, voice low and surprisingly rough as you waste no time sitting in his lap. 

“Right- here-” you punctuate each word with a hard kiss, reaching down between the two of you to where his cock was standing hard against his stomach. Gently you begin to pump your hand up and down the shaft of his cock, listening to him gasp and groan as he pressed kisses along your neck. You swipe your thumb over the head where it’s already leaking precum, and you shift as you too are already wet with anticipation and need.

“God, I want to fuck you,” your own voice comes out a low moan, and the moment the words leave your mouth, his hand takes yours, and you still. He’s looking at you now, and more than anything he wants you.

“Please.” 

Gently, with his hands on your hips as a guide, you kneel on the bed, straddling him, and you lower yourself onto him. His cock slides in with ease, you’re practically dripping, and you let out a long, low moan, and he hums in response, smiling at the sight of you, your eyes closed and mouth open in quiet pleasure. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, admiring you as your pussy flutters around his cock buried deep inside of you. You stay like that for a long moment, just getting used to the feel of him inside you, but the moment he shifts, just a little, experimentally, your eyes flicker open and your lips stretch into a smirk as you look at him through your lashes. Slowly at first, you begin to grind, your hips rolling to meet his; he’s got a hand on your lower back to keep you steady, and the other is at your tits, tugging at one of your nipples as he sucks the other into his mouth. At that you whimper, arching your back as he bites gently, tugs a little harder, and the rhythm of your hips stutters against him for just a moment. 

You lift his chin with one hand, his lips meeting yours in a messy, desperate kiss as you moan into his mouth, still rocking against him. It’s not enough, so with gentle hands you press against his chest guiding him to lay down on the bed trailing kisses down his neck and chest as you ride him. He’s got a firm grip on your ass, and when his hips snap up to meet yours you audibly gasp.

“Incredible,” he murmurs, and he leans up, pulling you in to meet him half way as you’re fucking him, “you’re incredible.” And your breathy panting turns to moans against his lips when he’s got one hand between the two of you, thumb on your clit. He’s almost teasingly gentle, and your frantic rhythm slows down a little to accommodate the new stimulation, and as rubs the sensitive nerves more firmly, curses come tumbling from your lips. This just seems to encourage him to move more insistently, and he shifts his hips to an angle to fuck you just a bit deeper and you actually cry out.

“Fuck- fu- plea- please fuck me.” You whimper, breathless and needy. He’s happy to oblige. When you climb off of him, you’re quick to replace his cock with your fingers as you lay back against the bed, need curling low and hot within you, and he watches for just a moment with a smirk.

“How long have you wanted this, darling?” He asks, already moving himself between your legs, which split easily for him. 

“So long, so so long.” You admit, groaning as he takes your hand away and slides easily back into you. For just a moment he’s still, buried to the hilt inside of you, then he starts thrusting, teasingly slow at first.

“Good.” He murmurs, and though your eyes are closed, you can hear the smirk in his voice. He’s still holding your hand, and after a beat, he tugs at your wrist, pulling your hand to him, and your eyes flutter open to see him suck your slick digits clean.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” you moan, rolling your hips to meet his as your head falls back against the pillows, the image of him looking at you with nothing but want in his eyes as he sucks your own juice off your fingers now burned into your memory for you to get off to in your own time. He’s still holding your hand, fingers laced with yours as he presses it against the bed. Your legs come up to wrap around him as you feel yourself getting close, and you reach down with your free hand to toy with your clit.

Your panting turns to whimpers turn to crying out his name as you come, wrapped up in him and the feeling of ecstasy that washes through you, with him still deep inside of you. He fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and as you’re coming down, he bites back a long groan as he pulls out of you, his cum hitting your stomach and tits. He lets out a long, pleased sigh, collapsing beside you. There’s tissues on the bedside table which you clean yourself up with well enough, and as you’re turned away, throwing the tissues out, John presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. 

He’s smiling when you roll over to face him, and kisses you back tenderly when you lean in. 

“We should do this again some time.” You say with a half-smile, and he lays back against the bed, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I think that can be arranged.”

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #deaky #deaky x reader #deaky imagine #deacy #deacy x reader #deacy imagine #john deacon smut #deaky smut #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #roger taylor #the angry lizard writes #bohemian rhapsody imagine #borhap imagine #joe mazzello

[pepperony3000-archive]

that pepperony anti anon is a loser pepperony is literally so healthy and pure gtfo lol

Yeah for real! I didn’t want to really engage with them for obvious reasons but... come ON!

Now maybe (maybe) Maybe maybe maybe back when they first met some 30 years ago if they jumped immediately into a relationship that anon might have had a point.

Tony was basically the definition of charming asshole. Everybody loved to hate him, but he was clearly likable enough to get lots of girls WITHOUT coercing them or offering them money. (see: Christine)He’s just that damn charming.

But he was also... not the kind of man you’d marry. Or even the kind you should be attempting a serious relationship with. He was irresponsible, arrogant, and quite possibly thought a little too highly of himself. (but we all know that Pepper Rhodey and Happy all saw through that to the person they knew he could be. It just took a little longer for Tony to find that)

Which is why they didn’t even kiss/get together (even though they were clearly in love) until the end of Iron Man 2 and he was in a place where he WANTED to leave that previous lifestyle behind him.And that’s not to say it’s all on him.Because he sure as heck wanted to leave that lifestyle behind and get with pepper at the end of Iron Man 1. To which she roasted him lightly before reaffirming that their friendship is as strong as ever.

But it’s been THIRTY YEARS (give or take) since they met.FIFTEEN YEARS since he gave up the playboy lifestyle.THIRTEEN YEARS since they got togetherFIVE YEARS since they got married.

Like if nothing else? That’s a hell of a long time to be sticking together. And it’s also clearly not an unhealthy codependent type thing, because they were able to take a break when that was needed, but get back together (and get engaged) shortly afterward because they still loved each other and wanted each other.

A strong relationship includes:

1) wanting each other even if you don’t need each other (✔️✔️)

“I don’t have anyone else” 

“You’re all I have too you know”. 

This is not to say that they have no other friends (Rhodey and Happy say hi). This means that they want each other because nobody understands them as much as the other. This means that neither one trusts anybody as much as they trust each other.

2) Being able to depend on each other regardless of what’s going on around you (✔️✔️)

“I got you” 

“I got you first”

3) Believing in each other, no matter how difficult the circumstances (✔️✔️)

“He won’t help you” 

“She was already perfect”

4) Encouraging each other through difficult decisions (✔️✔️)

“but would you be able to rest?” 

[after wanting to quit] “Listen. Hey, hey. You deserve better.“ 

5) Making each other laugh/laugh (✔️✔️)

[insert all the scenes of Pepper laughing at Tony’s bad jokes]

[insert Tony’s smile when he sees the Proof Tony Stark Has a Heart reactor]

6) They are each others first priority (✔️✔️)

[when Tony isn’t answering the phone after Obadiah paralyzed him] “Please go over there and make sure everything's okay.

[when Tony is sprawled out on the floor and Rhodey shakes him back to a higher state of consciousness] “Where’s Pepper?”

[Bonus] “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you.”

In other words, if you think Pepperony is anything but an excellently written and realistic representation of what a real and healthy relationship is, clearly you were born in a cave and have only seen the world through the lens of internet sites and the unhealthy obsessive perspectives they tend to gravitate towards.

#tony stark #pepper potts #pepperony #Anonymous #Ask me a question

[hoffkk]

Flarfy

Deception Drabble

Requested by: Anon

Quote requested: “Call an ambulance!”

Pairing: Kay x Cameron

********

"Call an ambulance!" Cameron shouted as he knelt by Kay's body, replaying the last few minutes in his head.  They didn't plan for a partner.  The perp wasn't supposed to have a partner... but he did.  His psychotic sidekick showed up out of nowhere, and now Kay was hurt.

"Cameron..." Kay said in a raspy whisper.  She was losing consciousness due to the bullet wound in her left shoulder bleeding out rapidly.  The bullet wound from a bullet... a bullet meant for him.

"It's okay.  I'm here." He comforted as he brushed some hair out of her face.  Reacting on instinct, he ripped off his suit jacket, balled it up, and pressed it against her shoulder to staunch the bleeding.  "Everything's gonna be okay." He added in a hushed tone, not sure whether he was trying to convince Kay... or himself.

The next few minutes went by in a blur as Cam dealt with swirl of emotions raging inside him: Fear and concern at Kay mumbling something incoherent then passing out, anger at Mike for keeping him from riding in the ambulance with her to the hospital, and (mostly) guilt for putting Kay in a life threatening situation.  He shouldn't have approached the perp and made those unnecessary insults. He shouldn't have tried to ham it up to impress her.  He should have just backed off.  If he had, the perp wouldn't have cued his partner to shoot at him, and Kay wouldn't have jumped in the way to save him.

If only Cameron had known there was a second perp...  If only he'd thought things through... if only...

********

An hour later, Cameron was showered, changed, and pacing the hospital waiting room.  The whole magic team was there too, along with Mike, all waiting for an update.  After about an hour or so more of waiting patiently, they finally received one.  The surgeon, a tall middle eastern woman in her forties, came out and gave them the rundown on Kay's procedure.  There were a lot of technical words thrown around that Cam didn't totally understand, especially in his state of mind.

Feeling frustrated, Cam blurted out, "Is she okay or not?!"

"She's going to be just fine."  The doctor assured.

Sighing majorly in relief, he ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair and said a silent thank you to whatever higher power was on his side today.

"Can we see her?" Dina asked, fidgeting with the balled up tissue in her hand that was now blotted with tiny mascara stains.

"We are bringing her to the ICU now for recovery.  She needs to rest, but I suppose I can allow a short visit."  The doctor relented.  "Just for one of you though."

Everyone immediately looked to Mike.  Surprisingly though, he looked at Cameron and nodded, "Go ahead."

"Y-you sure?" He asked skeptically.

"Tell her I said hi." He half-smiled.

Cam returned the smile and clapped him on the shoulder before following the doctor down the hallway. Moments later, the doctor paused outside the door to her room.  He was itching to go in, but the doctor seemed to have something to say, so he waited patiently for his cue.

"Kay's been given heavy pain medication.  She'll probably be a little groggy if awake at all."  The doctor informed him before opening the door.  "You have five minutes."

Cameron nodded before slipping inside.  His heart broke a little bit as he laid eyes on Kay.  She looked paler than usual and was attached to all sorts of wires and machines.  Her shoulder was bandaged and in a sling, and her eyes were closed like she was sleeping.  Moving closer, he came around to the bed by her good arm and sat on the nearby chair, wrapping his hand gently over hers.

"I'm so sorry, Kay." Cam whispered. "This should have been me."

"Camrem?" Kay mumbled sleepily as she began to stir.

"Hey."  He whispered through a watery smile. "How you feeling?"

"Flarfy" She garbled.  "Amd sleefy."

Sleefy obviously meant sleepy, but flarfy? He had no clue what the translation was on that one. So, Cameron just softly laughed it off and said, "Yeah... the flarfiness is probably from all the pain meds they gave you.  Glad to see they are working by the way."

"Camrem...are you okay?"  Kay questioned groggily.

He couldn't believe it. Here Kay was, lying in a hospital bed with a bullet hole in her arm, yet she was worried about him.  She was something else.

"I'm fine." He told her.  "Thanks to you."

She smiled tiredly, "gud." then let her heavy eyes flutter closed before adding, "a lev you, Camrem."

Cam's heart soared at the muddled sentiment.  He tried not to let it go to his head though.  After all, she was pretty drugged up.  She probably didn't even know what she saying.  However, that didn't stop him from kissing her hand and replying, "I 'lev' you too, Kay."

Her eyes remained closed, but Cameron saw her grin widen in response.  Grinning back automatically, he wished he could stay here all night, holding her hand and listening to her wonderful heart beat through the monitor. Unfortunately, a crotchety, giant, man nurse came in a moment later, reminding him brusquely that he couldn't. So, with a sigh, Cam stood and placed a slow, sweet kiss on top of her forehead and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Kay."  Then backed away one step at a time, letting his hand slide from hers gradually.

As Cameron made his way to the door, he smiled his perfectly dimpled smile.  He was very happy that Kay was going to be okay.  He was also very happy at the way her heart monitor picked up pace after his kiss.  Yeah, he might have missed a bullet today... but he sure didn't miss that!

#flarfy #deception #deception fanfiction #kay daniels #cameron black #cameron x kay #kay gets shot #cameron freaks out

[artemis-entreri]

Hey mun! Imagine a hitchhikers guide to the galaxy version of entreri!

[[ Hi Anon, sorry about the delay in responding to this question. The truth is, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I’ve never read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and don’t have any immediate plans to do so. XD;; I have seen at least one movie iteration of it (that I can remember anyway), but the impression that I’ve gotten from fringe awareness of the book is that it’s far too complex and involved to really be done full justice to (or explained) in one movie. I’ve tried reading the Wiki about it, but I felt much the same way as I did when I watched the movie: that it was something so intricate that its nuances could really only be fully appreciated and understood through multiple readings of the book. My confusion and subconsciously-formed higher regard for the Hitchhiker’s Guide could just be due to my having associated with a group of people that at times seemed truly to believe that the book contained the answer to life, the universe and everything (which I suppose it does literally, as it mentions the number 42 multiple times ;P). Joking aside, I don’t feel qualified to explore this particular thought experiment, as I’m too unfamiliar with the context, especially as the context seems to be monumentally huge. That being said, I will try to the best of my ability to address this somewhat, especially as it’s taken me so long to respond, and to do this, I’ll focus on the one premise in the book that I do know reasonably well: the destruction of the main character’s home planet for the sake of a larger-scope project. I’m not familiar with all the details about how that event colors his specific reactions to the other characters that he meets and the nuances of how those specific interactions go on to affect his position and perspective. Thankfully however, it seems quite obvious that Artemis Entreri is a very different character from Arthur Dent, and Toril/Abeir-Toril is even more different from Earth.

First, I need to first clarify, then put aside, the fact that the destruction of Entreri’s home planet would be very very difficult, if not nigh impossible. While it is the case that the destruction of Toril has been threatened more than once throughout the history of the Forgotten Realms, what always seems to end up happening is that the entity or entities driving that motion gets thwarted by the pantheons of gods, demi-gods, ancient beings, other extremely powerful entities, the teamwork of a large amount of not-as-powerful entities, and/or some combination of all of the above. Then there’s the issue of the countless planes and their respective layers, among which is Toril’s duality with its twin Abeir in the Prime, all of which would further complicate the total destruction plan, which isn’t to say that it is completely impossible. However, given the power levels involved in vaporizing all of that, we’d be talking about the pantheonocide of deities, an event so catastrophic that it’d be extremely difficult for a (more or less) mere mortal (especially one without a towel) to escape from. If he did, it would be even less likely for there to be another more-or-less mundane creature to rescue him. Being adrift in the empty vacuum of space would grant a quick death indeed, hence rendering the premise of this whole topic null and void (no pun intended ;P). Now if the improbablity drive were being used nearby, obviously all bets would be off, however I’m not sure I want to explore that particular scenario.

So let’s say then that Abeir-Toril is destroyed, and Entreri manages to get away because a Spelljammer ship happened to be in the vicinity and there’s someone on it with a vested interest in saving him from total annihilation for whatever reason. I really can’t see Jarlaxle not also getting away from the destruction of their homeworld, in which case what would follow would basically be The Sellswords, but IN SPACE! However, for the sake of this thought experiment, we’ll say that didn’t happen and Entreri is the only former Torilian to have survived the planet-destruction catastrophe. Whew, what a mess, and poor poor assassin! He’s already got such a hard time handling his familiar surroundings, and even there he doesn’t have a concept of security and peace, so literally tossing him into space with all of his pre-existent issues would be a very difficult thing for him to bear (yet sadly appropriate because he seems to be the go-to character for extreme and/or prolonged torturous experiences). I think that, given how he’s tired of living that the thought to terminate his life would certainly cross his mind, but his self-preservation instincts are so ingrained that he’d have a hard time actually doing so. Entreri would want to die on his terms alone, but pitched into a totally different environment none of the conditions would be his own, and his sensibilities wouldn’t allow himself to give in to a situation like that. Not to mention in a completely foreign environment, the sense of perpetual danger would be great, which would trigger his competitive survival tendencies, leading him to be caught up in a huge endeavor to try to create some semblance of security for himself before he even realizes it. In his struggle to fight to have things on his terms, or more importantly, to not be on someone else’s terms, he would inevitably get himself stuck in an endless feedback cycle until he becomes what he’s always been no matter where he goes: a respected and feared entity that is given a wide berth.  

There’s of course the question of personal attachments, and where Hero left off, we’re supposed to believe that Dahlia is Entreri’s soulmate and their relationship is his Happily Ever After. I find this highly unlikely, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable for Entreri to be romantically involved with someone as well as having other attachments at the point of the conjectured destruction of his world. Upon losing those connections, so suddenly and compounded by the loss of everything that he’d ever known, he would despair, I mean who wouldn’t? It might come close to breaking him, but he’s gone through so many outrageously traumatic things in his life that “coping” mechanisms would kick in automatically even if he doesn’t will it consciously. In his anger, he might consider killing whomever destroyed his life as he knew it, but he would also quickly realize the impracticality of attempting such, for whom or what ever is capable of destroying an entire planet and its gods could squash him like a bug. He’d be giving up his life for something pointless as well as dying on someone else’s terms, and while Entreri has his pride and vengeful nature, he’s also not stupid. It’s true that the being directly responsible for destroying Earth, and presumably Toril in our thought experiment, is the equivalent of a construction worker who would be an easy target for Entreri to hit if Entreri could get to him, Entreri would also realize that there’d be very little point to trying to kill an individual that he knows nothing about in a society in which he has to relearn everything. So let’s say that Entreri eventually learns that the people who ordered the destruction of his planet are not warriors or mages and would be as vulnerable to his deadly blades as any commoner on the streets of Calimport, there would be little point in exacting revenge against them because hostility was nowhere near their motives when they destroyed the planet (they even put the paperwork on file and warned the Earth/Toril, it’s not their fault that the people of Earth/Toril didn’t go to Alpha Centauri to read those notices). The entire situation would be horribly ironic and Entreri would most likely be stuck in a state in which he wouldn’t know whether to laugh or rage. Rather than losing himself to impotent rage and the lack of a viable target to exact vengeance against, he’d more or less resign himself to reality, even if it would take a while. Entreri’s a very old man by human standards, and although his body hasn’t aged, it’s very apparent that he feels it on an emotional level. Most of his years have not been kind to him, inflicting on him way more mental scars than physical ones, so he probably feels a perpetual state of tiredness. This is in direct tension with his competitive drive, but I think that long term, he would (continue to) suffer from depression and PTSD, but he wouldn’t lose his edge. He’d try to make the most of everything in the way that he does, which isn’t healthy nor exemplary, but it’s what he does: spend a lot of time listening to conversations in space taverns and nursing all sorts of alien brews. It wouldn’t be out of the question for him to become one of those Sci-Fi space mercenaries/assassins garbed in fantasy medieval-esque cloak and leathers but dual-wielding energy blades, always managing to dwell ominously in the darkest corners despite the pervasive phosphorescent lighting. He could even become a dual-wielding gunslinger, as he prizes efficacy and efficiency, and melee weapons fall short when dependable range weapons exist (blunderbusses exist in the Realms, however are very unstable and undependable, hence why guns never caught on there). However, that’s a separate subject entirely

To my understanding, one of Arthur Dent’s biggest struggles with what happened to him is that his homeworld was a simple one-sentence notation in the annals of the universe. Abeir-Toril wouldn’t be that way, but even if it were, I don’t think Entreri is attached enough to it to really care about just how significant others found his world. I could see him finding some grim sort of amusement if it turned out that his world and all of its gods were in fact insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe/multiverse, since that’s sort of in line with his personal outlook. Entreri’s insignificance both disheartens him and allows him to draw some sort of twisted satisfaction from simply being insignificant. It rubs him the wrong way, but he also recognizes at least subconsciously that he can’t change that no matter how hard he tries and something that would prove that sort of defeatist mindset might bring him a strange sense of validation. And certainly, few things would prove a single entity’s total insignificance than some master race bulldozing over their planet as though it were nothing. So because of this warped satisfaction/validation, Entreri would be able to live on and adapt like he’s always done.

I apologize for the disjointed nature of my answer, my ignorance on this subject matter makes it pretty hard for me to answer, but hopefully I was able to entertain you at least a little. XD ]]

#ama #ooc #the hitchhicker's guide to the galaxy #Artemis Entreri #Entreri #Toril #Abeir #CrossOver #Forgotten Realms #legend of drizzt #Anonymous