#night of consecration

[altar-ov-plagues]

[texaschainsawmascara]

Silent Night, Bloody Night / Jennifer’s Body / Consecration

[frecklesandpoverty]

31 Nights of Halloween Horror: day 10

My choice for yesterday was Consecration

I rated this 6/10. A little boring to start, and I totally thought I knew where it was going, but then it changed it up a bit and surprised me. It wasn't amazing, but it was good. Jena Malone great as always, and a good performance by Danny Huston. I enjoyed the ending too.

[lidrens]

lidren learn how to make gifs challenge mghhh

[sunderwight]

still not over the fact that Crowley WALKED ACROSS CONSECRATED GROUND, then stood next to a BASIN FULL OF THE THING THAT DESTROYS HIM, in a church he'd just DIVERTED BOMBS TO, so he could stand IN THE EXPLOSION with Aziraphale and trust Aziraphale's miracle to SPARE THEM EXPLODING TOGETHER, and he trusted it well enough to use his own energy to RESCUE AZIRAPHALE'S BOOKS, which he knew AZIRAPHALE WOULD FORGET TO DO, and he did all that while he was ON THE WAY TO ANOTHER JOB, which he fucked up because he remembered to protect the books but FORGOT TO PROTECT HIS OWN STUFF, and then he spent the rest of the night HELPING AZIRAPHALE LIVE OUT HIS HOMOEROTIC MAGICIAN THEATRICAL DREAMS like he hadn't just BURNED HIS FEET TO SHIT like dear lord Crowley the power of love is a heckuva drug, isn't it?

[saetoru]

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — AL-HAITHAM.

kinktober day three — aphrodisiacs ; find masterlist here

synopsis. the akademiya textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

length. 4.3k words (omg this is the shortest one so far)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs + dub con, mentions of injuries and blood (al-haitham gets stung by a consecrated scorpion), reader sits on his lap, hand jobs, unprotected sex, no prep, riding, creampie, implied (future) multiple orgasms, reader is mentioned to have a dendro vision + is a haravatat scholar

notes. i made this up. the new consecrated scorpions lore is that their venom can be a sex stimulant thanks

“haitham,” you complain—although, you probably really shouldn’t. in fact, you definitely should not complain. al-haitham has so graciously allowed you to accompany this trip to the desert, and you should not get in the way. still, your feet ache, and the sun is blaring, and god—would kill you both to have a break? “can’t we just stop for a bit?”

but with you, al-haitham is always patient. you can see him diligently take the time to be patient as he stills and sighs quietly, not letting himself ever get frustrated with you. “it’ll get cold if night falls,” he reasons, “c’mon, you’ll definitely want to rest inside the ruins instead of outside tonight.”

“but baby,” you protest, “my feet hurt.”

“i know,” he nods, like validating your feelings will make them any better, “but the safest option would be to camp inside the ruins instead of out here—”

“hey, haitham?” you cut him off, suddenly whispering quietly as you huddle closer, “what…what’s that?” he looks over his shoulder to where you point—and then he stiffens.

“oh, great,” he hisses, groaning under his breath, “seriously? now?”

what looks like a giant scorpion seems to be pacing in the distance, the large, sharp stinger on its tail clear as day, even from where you stand, a good range away. you’ve never seen one of these before, never even heard of giant scorpions that roam the desert. al-haitham has certainly never told you about seeing them, with all the times he visits the desert himself. he seems rather familiar with them, too, staring exasperatedly off at the beast as it circles the territory you absolutely have to pass.  

“why is there a giant scorpion here? are there always these things in the desert? i’ve never heard of—wait,” you pause, “i have a textbook from the akademiya on desert exploration. i brought it just in case!”

“we don’t need that,” he insists, “i’ve dealt with these plenty of times. just leave it to me.”

you’ve never been to the desert—but al-haitham always mentions the ancient letters he sees in the ruins he explores. it’s tempting; being a scholar is always the never-ending temptation of knowledge—and you are both haravatat scholars, after all. studying an ancient alphabet is enough to make you plead with al-haitham to take you with him on his next trip.

he can’t say no to you, of course—he never can. but it’s your first time here, and evidently…it’s not going exactly as planned. 

you open the book, skimming through the pages before your eyes land on a sketch that looks strikingly similar to the same beast you see in the distance. the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. that seems like complete and utter bullshit—this seems rather deadly. 

“haitham,” you whisper, “i think we should leave. this doesn’t seem—”

“we can take it,” he argues, “i’ve taken them before on my own quite a lot in the past.”

“but baby, this one seems a bit big—”

“it’ll be fine,” he assures. 

you sigh, looking back at the book and scanning over the section that goes into detail about its attack patterns. “okay, fine—let me just read over how they attack so i know what to expect.”

phagocytic form—beasts enter phagocytic form immediately when in combat, resulting in an increase in resistance to all elements. there is double the resistance to electro attacks. well, you think, it’s a good thing cyno isn’t the one fighting today—otherwise, you think you might be screwed. 

this is fine. everything is fine. you and al-haitham both have dendro visions; this shouldn’t be too bad, right?

melee combo one—beasts perform a two-part combo with their claws. alright, not too bad. you can easily dodge that, you reason. melee combo two—beasts perform a three-part combo consisting of a single strike with both claws, a flurry of claw strikes while rushing forward, and a projectile fired from its stinger. now that seems a bit troublesome, but you’ve dealt with worse. 

“i’ll take care of it,” al-haitham calls over his shoulder, catching your attention as he draws out his sword. you look up from the pages frantically. 

“wait, i really think we should handle this together if we’re going to take this. just let me read on the attack patterns a bit more—”

he’s already made the first attack. you can hear the angry hiss of the scorpion, can practically see the fury in its beady eyes from behind the thick skull covering its head. al-haitham, to your slight comfort, dodges melee combos one and two expertly. 

maybe he was right—maybe you’ve been panicking for nothing.

you look back at the book. dig—beasts dig into the ground and attack the target from below, staying within the range of a visible electro ring. alright, as long as you leave the ring before the scorpion pops out of the ground, you should be fine. nothing to worry about. spikes—beasts plug their tails into the ground and rapidly produce spikes around themselves to shock targets. another easy dodge—you just have to make sure you escape the vicinity.

you look up, and al-haitham has already easily leapt from the ring and landed himself on higher ground. he waits, watches as the beast emerges from underground, and plants its tail into the ground—this must be the spikes. al-haitham is rather excellent at fighting these things—you have to admit. as soon as the spikes are gone, he takes his chance to plunge down, perfectly landing a hard hit to its head with the edge of his sword, making its body slump to the ground.

he might just finish this alone like he said. 

“there,” he nods, flashing you a smooth grin, “i told you i’d handle it. now then, let’s—”

the loud, sinister hiss from behind cuts him off—it makes you watch in abject horror as the scorpion rises and does a rapid spin. 

you look over the pages as quickly as you can—is there more? there’s nothing else on the page, is there? you quickly flick your eyes to the next page and—oh. 

oh no.

phagocytic rain—beasts rapidly spin and scatter many stingers into the air before slamming their claws and unleashing stingers down from above. these stingers, once pierced into the skin, can cause side effects as a result of consecrated venom.

“well, it’s never done that before,” al-haitham holds up his sword, getting ready to fight. 

no. he has to get away—he needs to get away. the words don’t come quick enough from your throat as you scream, “haitham, no! you have to get away—”

it’s too late. you can hear him let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching his arm as his sword instantly falls to the floor, a gash already decorating his skin from a stinger he didn’t manage to dodge. before you can even think, you grab your weapon and run, leaping between al-haitham and the scorpion and landing another perfect blow to its head—just before that giant, deadly-looking stinger on its tail can plunge into him.

it goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud, the glow of its body dimming instantly.

“fuck,” he curses—al-haitham rarely curses. this is not a light sting. “since when do they do that?”

“since forever,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of his cape to press on his wound and stop the blood flow, “maybe if you’d just listened to me and read the attack patterns with me, you’d have known that.”

“i’ve fought these plenty of times,” he says indignantly, teeth still grit in pain, “they never do that.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a know it all,” you grumble—but then you gently reach over, cupping his cheek as you trace a thumb over the skin comfortingly, “is it too bad?” you ask, concern evident enough in your tone that he feels slightly bad. 

al-haitham shakes his head, sighing quietly as you kiss his jaw. “i’ll be fine. i’ll just patch it up before we camp for the night.��

“are you sure? maybe we should—”

“it’ll be fine,” he hums, “their venom isn’t deadly anyway.”

—————

you and al-haitham manage to make it to the ruins by nightfall. somehow, miraculously, the two of you are able to trek towards the pyramid and seek shelter indoors for the night, right before it gets too dark and too cold.

al-haitham seems to act stranger and stranger as time goes on, quietly sitting in a corner against the wall and patching his arm up himself as you set up the fire by the tent. you look over at him and watch as he shudders and groans lightly. 

“are you sure you’re alright?” you ask in concern, walking over and sitting as you curl up next to him, raising a brow as his body seems to stiffen at your touch, “baby, you seem…”

“i’m fine,” he says curtly. 

you don’t seem to be convinced, furrowing your brows before pressing a palm to his forehead—hot. incredibly and unnaturally hot skin that’s flushed a shade of crimson you hardly see on al-haitham, even when you tease him in that cheeky, flirty little way of yours that dusts blush over his face every time. 

“haitham,” you gasp, hand brushing back his bangs to feel more of his skin—it’s only then, do you realize just how sweaty his skin seems to be, too. “you’re burning up!”

“i’m okay—”

“maybe you should take your shirt off,” you say quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as you sit up straight, “it’s just the two of us here, anyway. it’ll be fine—”

“no,” he grits, voice strangled, “i’m—hah” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, “—i’m okay. just leave me alone, please. i’ll just go walk it off in a bit.”

he’s panting. you can hear the way his voice is strained and the way his chest rises and falls rather rapidly. you should check the book again, just to see if there’s anything about the side effects in the event you do happen to get stung. 

“hmm, the textbook says—”

“do not read the textbook,” he practically begs. 

you do anyway. “possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea,” you start, glancing up at him and eyeing his patched arm, “well, there was some swelling. are you nauseous?”

“no,” he almost wheezes out. 

“let’s see, and it also says it can cause—oh.” 

possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea—you pause and swallow thickly as you read over the final part—and mild sexual arousal. sexual arousal. well, that would explain the heated and flushed skin, you suppose. and the sweat. you glance up at al-haitham—he does anything but meet your eyes. 

“i told you,” he says stiffly, muffling a groan as he crosses his arms and hunches forward, “i’ll be fine—”

“baby,” you hum, chuckling slightly as you run a hand through his hair—he gulps, still avoiding your gaze, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“don’t,” he warns, jaw clenching as he looks up and stares at you with that same look of hunger you’ve seen so many times before. it’s clear al-haitham is trying to fight off whatever he’s feeling—but the reality is clear. 

he’s very quickly losing himself to his desires. 

“but it’s just us in here,” you insist, hand trailing down his chest slowly before settling on his thigh. his breath hitches, following your hand with his eyes as it rubs along slowly and moves closer and closer inwards. “these ruins have been abandoned for who knows how long—and we’re the only ones from the akademiya cleared to explore them.”

“don’t,” he says again—there’s a warning tone to his voice this time, slightly more raspy and entirely more breathless, “if…if i start, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.”

“oh, but haitham,” you pout, slinging a leg over his waist and seating yourself on his lap. you stare down at his crotch—wet. there’s a very noticeable wet patch over the bulge in his pants. you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. “who says i’d want you to stop?”

“love, i’m serious,” he closes his eyes and swallows, panting as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, “you should sleep. i’ll be okay—o-oh, fuck,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, hissing as you reach past his waistband and free his strained cock from the confinements. 

it’s thick, his erection—probably far more swollen than you’ve ever seen it before. it almost looks painful, with how red it is at the tip, with how it twitches from nothing else but the cool air hitting the heated skin. you think it might just be aching, in fact, from how he whimpers as you wrap a hand around it, just barely squeezing, just barely applying pressure to really relieve anything.

“hmm,” you look down, inspecting, “seems sensitive.” you give it a slow, experimental stroke, instantly making him groan loudly as his head falls back, a stream of pre cum leaking from the tip enough to coat his already slick cock. 

“fuck, fuck—more,” he rasps, hand grabbing your thigh and squeezing hard to ground himself.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding to yourself, “very sensitive. guess we’ll just have to get this out of your system.”

you drag your hand over his length, slow at first, before building up a quick, steady rhythm—just the way he’s always liked it. you lean in, kissing along his jaw as he writhes under you while you squeeze around the base of his cock, rolling your palm over his tip before repeating the motion over and over and over again. 

his mouth is parted, low groans and the occasional soft whine fall past his lips, making the ache between your own legs worsen as you watch him fall apart. there’s a dull throb in your core, and you can feel the fabric of your underwear dampen, but all you’re worried about for now is the man before you. any other time, you’d think it’s a bit shameless, doing something so dirty, so filthy, so inappropriate in the middle of the desert like this–especially while on a research expedition, no less. but you couldn’t just leave your boyfriend to suffer like this, could you? what kind of girlfriend would you be then? and you’re not so cruel as to leave al-haitham to suffer like this all night, or longer, even—who knows how long before the side effects wear off? it’s the wisest choice to just help him, to take care of him like he always takes care of you.

that’s right, you think to yourself—you’re helping him like any doting lover would. you’re not at all interested by this predicament of his…or aroused, for that matter. no, you’re simply worried for him, and it’s up to you to relieve him of the painfully frustrating tension he must be suffering through after he so graciously fought to protect you from the dangers of the desert.

“jus’ like that,” he gasps as you touch him, chest still rising and falling as quickly as before—his shirt is damp too, a noticeable wet patch forming over most of it as the sweat collects on the fabric, “d-don’t stop—fuck, feels so good.”

“c’mon, haitham,” you murmur, taking your other hand to tug at the end of his shirt, “take this off—i told you, you’ll feel better.”

he listens—whatever is in that venom must be something strong because al-haitham is the most stubborn individual you’ve ever met. under normal circumstances, he’d refuse to take his shirt off even if, deep down, he knew himself it’d help. but right now, he quickly reaches at the hem before pulling it off, tossing it to the side as his bare chest is exposed for you to admire. his usual pale skin is flushed, a soft pink that glistens from the sweat that he can’t seem to get rid of, even as you work his swollen cock with your fist. 

it’s pretty, the way he sounds, the way he looks. you run a thumb over his slit, and he whimpers. not too often of times have you heard al-haitham whimper—but today, he seems to have lost any and all control, too busy thrusting his hips up to meet your strokes as he moans lowly. 

“when’d you start to feel it?” you ask curiously, pecking his forehead as you leave scattered kisses along his face, “how long have you been trying to play it off?”

“s-since…” he starts, but he trails off as your thumb traces over a thick being along the underside of his length, letting out a soft whine at the feeling before bucking his hip into your hand more desperately. you don’t think you’ve ever seen al-haitham so worked up—so needy and riled up and painfully fucked out before he’s even cum yet. “since i f-first got stung,” he admits through labored breaths, “just got worse slowly.”

“you should’ve told me,” you coo, “not like i don’t see you like this anyway. poor thing,” you pout softly, eyeing the way his cock twitches in your hand, more beads of pre cum oozing from the tip and leaving a stream down his length, “looks like it hurts.”

“it does,” he rasps, “feels…feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“don’t worry,” you hum, squeezing tighter around him, working him quicker as your hand jerks his aching cock off with a tight fist, “i’ll help you cum. ‘s what you deserve for fighting that thing for me. my strong baby.”

“c-close,” he says through a cracked voice, like the praise is enough to send him hurtling over the edge, “‘m so close—sh-shit.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly, pecking his forehead, “then cum, baby. think you’ll feel much better.”

you roll a thumb over his nipple, hard under the pad of your thumb, and enough to make him gasp loudly before he lets out a deep grunt, cum spilling from his sensitive tip. it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him—thick, endless ropes of hot, sticky cum coating your hand and his abs as you pump his cock through his orgasm. you’re glad you made him take his shirt off—this would’ve been an even more unpleasant trip if he’d had to walk around in a soiled shirt.

“fuck, f-fuck—so g-good,” he stutters, his head thrown back against the wall that supports his body, legs spreading apart to give you better access to working his cock through his high. one hand reaches to play with his balls as you milk his cock, squeezing as you stroke upwards and watch every thick drop of cum shoot past his tip. 

it feels like forever, his orgasm. it’s long, and his voice is strained from calling your name over and over by the time he’s finished—but he’s still just as hard as before. no—in fact, you think he might be even harder. 

“well…” you start, staring at his erection as it rests against his sculpted abs, “i don’t think that did much.”

“no,” he pants, staring at you through lust-hazed eyes, “it didn’t. but i have an idea that might help, though.”

“yeah? what is it, oh wise grand sage?”

al-haitham, for the first time ever, doesn’t correct you that he’s the acting grand sage. instead, he lifts you up slightly and pulls your pants down to pool at your ankles before lining your dripping cunt over his cock. you bite your lip, moving to ever so slightly drag his tip along your clit, making the both of you shiver with a desperate gasp at the ghost friction.

“i think,” he starts, finger circling your clit slowly as you whine before letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, “that perhaps fucking you might be the only way to get this out of my system. what do you say?”

“haitham, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders as you clutch onto him, “need you.”

“yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, replacing his finger and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock, coating the head with the slick of your pussy as you quiver over him, “need me, huh? i thought i was the one who got stung. shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

you would scoff if you weren’t aching to feel the burning stretch of him intruding your neglected cunt—al-haitham always finds a way to be himself at the end of the day. always so frustratingly confident and painfully good at teasing. 

“fuck me, haitham,” you plead, pushing your hips down until the first few inches of his length push past your entrance, dragging his tip along your folds and pulling a whine from you as he chokes on a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he grunts, “so tight—a-always so tight.”

his hands grasp at your hips, slowly guiding you to sink all the way down on his cock, taking it inch by inch until he’s buried all the way, his tip nudging perfectly against that sensitive spot in the back of your walls. al-haitham feels like he’s been made just for you like that—fitting you perfectly enough that he hits all the right spots without even trying, without even having to angle his hips in order to give you what you need from him.

you feel sweat collect on your own forehead, mirroring the same glistening of his own skin as you bite your lip and whimper out a pathetic, “h-haitham, more—please.”

“it’s a good thing i brought you with me,” he pants as he snaps his hips up, his hands still guiding your hips to bounce on his cock as you pull up before slamming back down, your walls hugging his thick girth tightly while his fat tip presses against your sweet spot. “imagine where i’d be if you weren’t here. j-jus’ wouldn’t feel the same if i was fucking my fist instead of this sweet cunt.”

the stretch is too good—the way he splits you open as he bullies into your pussy, pushing past your folds and dragging his thick veins along your walls, makes your head spin, pleasure burning up your nerves and spreading across your entire body. your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin as he groans and tightens his bruising grip on your hips.

“b-baby—fuck, ‘s so good,” you mewl, “h-haitham—oh.”

“take me so well,” he says breathlessly, face falling slack as your walls flutter around his length and relieve the ache that was all too overwhelming just a few moments ago—being buried into your pussy is enough to turn the tight grit of his jaw into a loose, parted lips as he moans your name. “taking it so well, like the good girl you are. you—ngh, fuck—you want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“i do,” you nod, sobbing as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the delicate bundle of nerves, “i do, i do—please, haitham. faster, need more.”

“yeah?” he lets out a strangled chuckle, biting his lip and groaning as you snap your hips down particularly rough, squeezing around him tightly, “you need more? i’d almost say you were stung instead of me.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry, red marks in their wake as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. you slam down on him with every roll of your hips, his own meeting you halfway as he bucks up, fucking into you—you can feel it, the impending high that you reach closer and closer to, every circle of his thumb on your clit and every brush of his cock against your walls bringing you close to falling off the edge.

“‘m…g-gonna cum, haitham—fuck, a-almost there, baby,” you pant, mewling as you throw your head back while he leans in to kiss your neck, biting hard enough that you almost wonder if there’s blood.

“me too,” he groans, “you…you’re so perfect,” you feel his head bury into your shoulder, his forehead digging into your shoulder as you cradle the back of his head with a hand and whine, “i’m bringing you to every trip—fuck you in every ruin i explore. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“yes, yes—please,” you babble, nodding as your back arches before you feel the coil snap—you gasp his name, a repeat of haitham, haitham, haitham, falling from your lips as he fucks into you through your high. the spasm of your walls around him sends him hurtling into his second orgasm—even more earth-shattering than the first.

“that’s it,” he moans, his voice deep and raspy as it cracks in the middle, “can’t even be mad i got stung—not when you let me fuck you l-like this. so…feels so good—’m c-cumming.”

it’s not the first time al-haitham has cum in you—but it’s never felt like this before. it’s hot, his cum—it spills into you and coats your walls in a sticky mess that forms a ring at the base of his cock as it pumps into you. the mess of his release and your arousal coats both of your thighs, leaking from your abused cunt and smearing along your skin. you can feel him twitch with every rope, can feel the way he throbs as he spills into you and paints your walls white with his release. it’s desperate—needy and so, so filthy, just like the sounds he makes into your ear, breathless pants that make your stomach do flips as you listen to him fall apart and break. 

he slumps as he finishes, your body falling against him as you both pant harshly and catch your breaths. he kisses your neck delicately as you stroke his hair, admiring his spent form under you.

“as much as i hate that you got stung,” you mumble, “this…this might not have been the worst thing.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, looking up and raising a brow—it’s only then that you feel it, the twitch of his still hard cock, still buried deep in your abused cunt, “are you sure? because we aren’t nearly finished yet—i really hope you’re prepared to take it.”

the textbook may have lied, you think—this is not mild at all. this might delay your trip quite a bit.

i would go with him hoping he gets stung every time so i could suck the soul out of him tbh

[combinationofstardust]

we are not talking about how date-like 1941 was. Before this night they've spent about 80 years not talking to each other because of the Holy Water Breakup, and we start the night with Crowley saving Aziraphale from discorporation, despite having to LITERALLY hurt himself by walking on consecrated ground. And then he saved Aziraphale's books!! Mr. Saving-Aziraphale-makes-me-so-happy saved Aziraphale's damsel-in-distress ass.

They drive through a burning, bombed city together and Aziraphale saves Crowley by agreeing to do a magic trick. They go back to Aziraphale's bookshop, arguably Crowley's favourite place ever, and roleplay-flirt as an American GI and a famous magician. And they go to a magic shop and flirt some more. Crowley helps pay for Aziraphale's magic trick because he supports his angel that much.

They proceed to head to the West End performing a magic trick that's just one big sex allegory, and Crowley's so worried he's going to shoot Aziraphale into discorporation his hands are SHAKING, and Aziraphale is putting SO MUCH trust into Crowley it hurts to watch.

The show ends. They flirt some more in the back room and this random demon walks in and tries to arrest them for their gay-ass relationship (sound familiar?). Crowley acts nonchalant but we know he's a nervous wreck (which we can analyze later) and Aziraphale says his own name in what is possibly the sexiest voice we've ever heard. He then saves Crowley by performing magic the human way, sleight-of-hand, making it the only time we EVER see it work.

Then they go home, drink Aziraphale's best wine over a candlelit dinner, successfully running away from their respective forces and their punishments, and exchange a romantic-ass conversation thst reinforces "our" side.

I am Not Well.

[animusrox]

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[Press Keep Reading For The Full Graded List]

Grade B

63.   God Is a Bullet 64.    No Hard Feelings 65.    Joy Ride 66.    Fair Play 67.     Cocaine Bear 68.    NYAD 69.    Asteroid City 70.    Nowhere 71.    The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster 72.    Divinity 73.    The Equalizer 3 74.    The Last Voyage of the Demeter 75.    Venus 76.    Butcher’s Crossing 77.    Somewhere in Queens 78.    The Persian Version 79.    Boston Strangler 80.    Polite Society 81.    Miguel Wants to Fight 82.    The Color Purple 83.    The Royal Hotel 84.    Saw X 85.    All of Us Strangers 86.    Fallen Leaves 87.    Ferrari 88.    Elemental 89.    Peter Pan & Wendy 90.    Renfield 91.    Cat Person 92.    Scream VI 93.    The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes 94.    BS High 95.    Blue Beetle 96.    Huesera: The Bone Woman 97.    When Evil Lurks 98.    Dark Harvest 99.    A Good Person 100.    Final Cut 101.    Knock at the Cabin 102.    Quiz Lady 103.    Leo 104.    Air 105.    The Super Mario Bros. Movie 106.    Batman: The Doom That Came to Gotham 107.    John Wick: Chapter 4 108.    Beaten to Death 109.    The Wrath of Becky 110.    Passages 111.    Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 112.    Gran Turismo 113.    65 114.    Sick 115.    Sister Death 116.    The Blackening 117.    Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain 118.    Flamin’ Hot 119.    Nimona 120.    Cobweb 121.    Totally Killer 122.    What’s Love Got to Do with It? 123.     Sharper 124.    Unseen 125.    Dunki 126.    Bird Box Barcelona 127.    The Marvels 128.    Shazam! Fury of the Gods

Grade C

129.   Wildflower 130.    Freelance 131.    M3GAN 132.    Strays 133.    Sympathy for the Devil 134.    Creed III 135.    Chevalier 136.    The Marsh King’s Daughter 137.    A Haunting in Venice 138.    The Little Mermaid 139.    Silent Night 140.    Master Gardener 141.    The Flash 142.    Fast X 143.    The Pope’s Exorcist 144.    Saltburn 145.    Kandahar 146.    Stand 147.    Plane 148.   Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny 149.    Fingernails 150.    Quicksand 151.    Fool’s Paradise 152.    Migration 153.    Rustin 154.    The Covenant 155.    Good Burger 2 156.    The Pod Generation 157.    Alice, Darling 158.    Insidious: The Red Door 159.    Missing 160.    Shotgun Wedding 161.    You Hurt My Feelings 162.    The Boogeyman 163.    Showing Up 164.    Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom 165.    Champions 166.    Consecration 167.    The Nun II 168.    Biosphere 169.    House Party 170.    The Exorcist: Believer 171.    Big George Foreman 172.    Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves 173.    Children of the Corn 174.    The Beanie Bubble 175.    Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Grade F

176.    Anyone But You 177.    Marlowe 178.    Paint 179.    Extraction 2 180.    It Lives Inside 181.    Deliver Us 182.    Trolls Band Together 183.    Finestkind 184.    Corner Office 185.    Wish 186.    Prisoner’s Daughter 187.    Pain Hustlers 188.    Foe 189.    The Mother 190.    Old Dads 191.    Ghosted 192.    Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken 193.    Haunted Mansion 194.    Mafia Mamma 195.    Five Nights at Freddy’s 196.    The Machine 197.    Justice League: Warworld 198.    We Have a Ghost 199.    What Comes Around 200.    Legion of Super-Heroes 201.    The Boys in the Boat 202.    Attachment 203.    Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre 204.    About My Father 205.    You People 206.    Meg 2: The Trench 207.    Pathaan 208.    Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire 209.    Assassin 210.    Dalíland 211.    Vacation Friends 2

Bottom 10

212.    Sound of Freedom 213.    Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 214.    When You Finish Saving The World 215.    Heart of Stone 216.    Family Switch 217.    Expend4bles 218.    Sweetwater 219.    Hypnotic 220.    80 for Brady 221.    Spinning Gold

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil,

I was having a debate with my friend last night, and I couldn’t find an answer in the pinned FAQ. So hopefully this isn’t a repeat question.

From previous asks, we know that Demons can walk around Heaven and Angels can walk around Hell because they’re more like office space and aren’t Holy ground.

So, if Demons can’t walk on consecrated ground, like the church in 1941, then how come Crowley, Ligur and Hastur were all able to meet in a graveyard for the antichrist exchange?

Are graveyards not considered consecrated? The book says they meet in a “ruined graveyard,” so are they only consecrated to a certain extent?

I’m pretty sure I’ve answered that here before but the answer is either

A) they were in an unconsecrated area of the graveyard

Or

B) in consecrated ruined creepy scary graveyards, the ruined creepy scary outranks the consecrated as far as demons are concerned.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know

The Doctor has been known to keep a teddy bear in his pocket.

The Master's first TARDIS (Lolita) is the Doctor's TARDIS's twin.

The Eighth Doctor once had sex with a sentient planet.

Machiavelli, Richelieu, and Robespierre were all just different aliases for the immortal Hades.

The iceberg that the Titanic crashed into was actually the Monk's TARDIS.

Also on board at the time were several incarnations of the Doctor, the Decayed Master, Jack Harkness, John Hart, Ace McShane, and Bernice Summerfield.

The First, Fourth, and Fifth Doctors were all in London around when the Great Fire started in 1666.

The Eighth Doctor was briefly engaged to Queen Edith but ran away before the wedding.

Consecrated planets, moons, and asteroids cannot be mined under Galactic Law.

The Doctor used to make up imaginary enemies to play fight when they were a small, lonely child. One of these enemies was called Mandrake.

The Sixth Doctor once went back in time with Peri to kill a baby who would become an evil dictator but could not go through with it.

After Nyssa tried to fix the chameleon circuit, the TARDIS took the shape of a whale.

Tegan Jovanka is the Earth Ambassador to Gallifrey.

The First Doctor participated in a riot and became wanted by the CIA two days before running away from Gallifrey (although some sources dispute this).

While the Ninth Doctor witnessed Kennedy's assassination, the First Doctor witnessed McKinley's.

The First Doctor has been repeatedly eaten and regurgitated by a whale before.

Marilyn Monroe married both the Eleventh Doctor and King Henry VIII, who fathered Elizabeth I, who married the Tenth Doctor, and he had also been married to Amy Pond, who was also the Doctor’s mother-in-law through River Song. Talk about a confusing family tree!

The First Doctor fed a snapping wart fowl to Valyes's summer project, and Valyes has had a grudge ever since.

The Eighth Doctor once demanded to die naked upon being sentenced to execution.

All righty, folks. I'm very tired! Good night. I may add more later.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67

[servantofthefates]

5 Simple Traditional Spells

1) Spell to Forget a Nightmare

To help another person forget a terrible nightmare, ask them to relay it to you in detail.

As they do, write it down as a narration on virgin parchment using any kind of marker. And then finish it off with, “Dullix, ix, ux” — as if you are writing, “The End.”

Roll the parchment up, and tie it with a lock of hair taken willingly from the dreamer. Then bury the parchment in a flower garden.

When you ask the dreamer about the nightmare the next day, they will have forgotten it entirely.

2) Spell to Make Someone Dream of You

Put on the same sleepwear for three nights in a row without washing it in between.

With your right hand holding the scissors, cut out a fabric from this garment in the shape of your left hand.

Secretly, place this fabric inside your target’s pillowcase. As long as it remains there, the person will dream sweet dreams of you every night.

While it may sound like a love spell, this is actually something parents do to keep their child from having nightmares.

3) Spell to Weaken an Enemy

Acquire a dead but fully intact frog. Feel free to check out your local science projects supplies store.

Call the frog by your enemy’s name as you throw it in a pot of water. Watch it boil. Do not for one second take your eyes off it until it is cooked.

Place the frog on a dish. As you remove every bit of its flesh using your bare hands, imagine yourself stripping your enemy of their strength.

Observe your enemy’s weakened physical, emotional or mental state as soon as the next day. How long it lasts will depend on the strength of your intent.

4) Spell to Prevent a Gun from Firing

The weapon has to be visible from where you are standing. I tried this at a firing range, with the shooter aware of my intentions.

When the shooter is ready to fire, stare at the weapon fearlessly as you recite once, enunciating clearly: “Pax. Sax. Sxrax.”

Either the weapon will jam by itself, or another incident — a power outage, a fire alarm, a phone call — will stop the shooter from firing.

The spell lasts for less than a minute. It does not damage a weapon permanently.

5) Spell to Keep a Person Inside a Room

Just once, without anyone seeing you, put a consecrated needle through any part of your target’s clothing — quickly, in and out.

As long as both you and the needle are inside the room with the target, he or she will be unable to leave.

As soon as they touch the doorknob, they will suddenly remember a story they want to tell you… feel thirsty and ask for a glass of water… or decide to stay and watch TV.

Make sure you discard the needle afterwards and never use it for any purpose again, magical or not.

Yes, these spells are considered "simple" in traditional witchcraft, where the amount of physical, mental & emotional effort a witch puts in, helps activate the spark.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Dispater, Lord of those Below

No Kings Beyond Death

A god of riches and horrors beneath the earth, protector and jailer of the departed souls, grim Dispater rules many realms with a stern hand and an iron will. Often cursed and seldom praised by mortals, it is this god's cosmic lot to keep order in the underworld, where the caverns of the mortal plane intersect with the labyrinths of the underdark and the shadowed halls of the dead.

While his worship overlaps with many other gods of death, few pray to Dispater as his heart is thought to be as cold and unmoving as stone, hardened by the grim work of keeping the domains to which psycopomps and other terminal forces deliver souls, ensuring that they neither have the chance to escape nor that they are picked off by fiends or other malign spirits.

Judges and other arbiters sometimes swear by him, especially when handling matters of life and death, as do miners, bankers, and others who work in precious metals or stones, as Dispater has a connection to caverns and other buried places. His clergy collects tribute in the form of those soft, perishable things that cannot be found below the earth: grain and livestock, flowers and wine. Their sacrifices of these things are said to pass on to the dead themselves, after their lord has taken his due tithe.

Adventure Hooks:

A monstrous bat haunts the countryside, endlessly harrying a graverobber who pilfered from a cemetery consecrated in Dispater's name. The exhausted scoundrel just so happens to have taken refuge in the same country inn as the party, passing himself off as a peddler who was shaken down by bandits. When the bat attacks that night (as he knows it will) he hopes to use the chaos to shift some of his plunder into the heroes' packs, diverting the creature and the divine wrath it represents.

Rumour is, if you find a trail of archaic coins scattered along the road, following it will lead you to one of the mysterious grey merchants, traders from the underworld who deal in memories and mementos cast off by the dead. Woe to anyone who attempts to harry or cheat the merchant though, as they travel under the protection of the lord below.

Shortly after a resurrection of a partymember (that may or may not have gone wrong), the heroes are approached by a dour devil in clerk's garb who insists that they need to follow her into the underworld to help clear up some post-mortality paperwork, or else their friend's soul might be held in litigation for a literal eternity. "Clearing up" in this case involves helping to clear out a field office somewhere in the shadowfell overtaken by the unquiet dead, fending off hostile spirits while the devil and the deceased do a lightninground of signatures on the relevant forms.

Behind the scenes: Hades has fascinated me since I started learning a mythology, and that fascination has only grown as I've traced the idea of him through history and popculture.

Like all the other Greek gods, Hades gets a roman makeover in Pluto; god of earth, the underworld, and wealth. One of his titles "Dis Pater" literally means " Father of Riches", as the earth contains both mineral wealth and the wealth of good harvests.

Because of his association with the underworld Pluto/Dis Pater starts to get adapted into emerging Christian Mythology as the devil, as his realm of of Tartarus (and its punishments reserved for the most wicked) likewise becomes Hell (which exists to torture anyone who sins and doesn't believe).

Fast forward about a millennia and a half and you have the creators of d&d making all the different names for the devil into a rogue's gallery of different fiends. With Dispater's connection to greek mythology completely forgotten he gets sectioned off as the extra schemey member of hell's boyband, at once brilliantly adept at making plans and driven mad with his own paranoia. While this makes him a little more interesting than some of the other devils, it just wasn't enough for me in the end, so a revamp had to ensue.

I wanted to take things full circle and use Dispater's name to bring my own Hades analog into my game's mythology, a god not of death but specifically the underworld, fully drawing on the connotations of both afterlife and underground. Playing with motifs of kingship and a "death and taxes" sort of legalism also makes for unique themes when it comes to the subjectmatter of mortality: Dispater as death is owed tribute by natural and divine law, but that relationship also grants protections to the tributary. Imagine a paladin of Dispater saving someone's life from unlawful execution because they are owed a righteous death.

Thanks as always to @5ecardaday for the monster stats

Artsource

[lickthecowhappy]

The Consecrated Line

The invisible and unbreakable one that joins Crowley and Aziraphale.

There is a line that binds me to you invisible and unbreakable In days our paths lead you out of my reach I know it is present anchored in the depths of my heart drawing us always together On the night we stood in the consecrated rubble of strife so gently did you pluck that line as our hands brushed for too brief a moment I could not quiet the vibrations which began resonating through me expanding infinitely like those of the universe itself They hum through my mind like celestial harmonies building to a crescendo in the recitation of a sacred memory from before the beginning My soul thrums resolutely as it struggles against both the natural and the divine to join with yours It knows the way It follows the line Though unseen as the breeze I can feel it as real as I feel the echo of your lips pressed to mine For all its straining and knotting as we dance so carefully around one another I harbor us to fear for I know our line is indestructible Impervious to both time and the fickle tides of fate

Read more of my work here. This poem is also available on AO3.

[fatchance]

El Tiradito wishing shrine in Tucson's Barrio Viejo.

In local folklore, the wishing shrine memorializes a young man who died violently but was unjustly denied consecrated burial for his mortal sins. One legend claims he was murdered after being caught in adultery with the wife of an enraged, jealous rancher. People come to the shrine seeking the intercession of El Tiradito – the outcast – especially in matters of love. Flowers and offerings are left here. Petitions and prayers written on scraps of paper are left on the ground or stuffed into gaps in the adobe wall. A votive candle that burns through the night without going out is said to guarantee a speedy answer to a supplicant's prayer.

While the Tucson shrine is the only wishing shrine found in the United States, scholars think that the idea that tiraditos grant wishes originated in Sonoran Catholicism. When the structure was threatened by interstate highway construction in the 1970s the community successfully sought its protection, and it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.