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officialyourdailyinspiration · 22 days

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The Holy District

1 Moreover, when you divide by lot the land for inheritance, you shall offer an allotment to the Lord, a holy portion of the land. The length shall be the length of twenty-five thousand cubits, and the width shall be twenty thousand. It shall be holy throughout its territory all around. 2 Of this there shall be a square plot for the sanctuary, five hundred by five hundred cubits, with fifty cubits for an open space around it. 3 Of this measure you shall measure the length of twenty-five thousand cubits and the width of ten thousand cubits. And in it shall be the sanctuary, the Most Holy Place. 4 The holy portion of the land shall be for the priests, the ministers of the sanctuary, who shall come near to minister to the Lord. And it shall be a place for their houses and a holy place for the sanctuary. 5 An area twenty-five thousand cubits in length and ten thousand in width shall be for the Levites, the ministers of the temple, and for their possession cities in which to dwell.

6 You shall appoint the possession of the city five thousand cubits wide and twenty-five thousand cubits long adjacent to the allotment of the holy portion. It shall be for the whole house of Israel.

The Portion for the Prince

7 A portion shall be for the prince on the one side and on the other side of the holy allotment and property of the city, adjacent to the holy allotment and the property of the city, from the west side westward and from the east side eastward. And the length shall correspond to one of the tribal portions, from the west border to the east border. 8 In the land shall be his possession in Israel. And My officials shall no more oppress My people. And the rest of the land they shall give to the house of Israel according to their tribes.

Laws Governing the Prince

9 Thus says the Lord God: Let it suffice you officials of Israel. Remove violence and destruction, and execute justice and righteousness. Take away your exactions from My people, says the Lord God. 10 You shall have just balances and a just ephah and a just bath. 11 The ephah and the bath shall be of one measure so that the bath may contain the tenth part of a homer, and the ephah the tenth part of a homer. Their measure shall be after the homer. 12 The shekel shall be twenty gerahs. Twenty shekels, twenty-five shekels, and fifteen shekels shall be your mina.

13 This is the offering that you shall offer: the sixth part of an ephah of a homer of wheat, and you shall give the sixth part of an ephah of a homer of barley. 14 Concerning the ordinance of oil that is the bath of oil, you shall offer the tenth part of a bath out of the kor, which is a homer or ten baths, for ten baths are a homer. 15 And one lamb shall be out of the flock, out of two hundred, out of the watering places of Israel, as a grain offering and as a burnt offering and for peace offerings, to make reconciliation for them, says the Lord God. 16 All the people of the land shall give this offering for the prince in Israel. 17 It shall be the prince’s part to give burnt offerings and grain offerings and drink offerings in the feasts and in the New Moons and in the Sabbaths, in all solemnities of the house of Israel. He shall prepare the sin offering and the grain offering and the burnt offering and the peace offerings, to make reconciliation for the house of Israel.

Observing the Feasts

18 Thus says the Lord God: In the first month, on the first day of the month, you shall take a young bull without blemish and cleanse the sanctuary. 19 And the priest shall take some of the blood of the sin offering and put it on the doorposts of the temple and on the four corners of the ledge of the altar and on the gateposts of the inner court. 20 So you shall do the seventh day of the month for everyone who errs and for him who is naive. So you shall make atonement for the temple.

21 In the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month, you shall have the Passover, a feast of seven days. Unleavened bread shall be eaten. 22 On that day the prince shall prepare for himself and for all the people of the land a bull as a sin offering. 23 For seven days of the feast he shall prepare a burnt offering to the Lord, seven bulls and seven rams without blemish daily for the seven days, and a male of the goats daily as a sin offering. 24 He shall prepare a grain offering of an ephah for a bull and an ephah for a ram and a hin of oil for an ephah.

25 In the seventh month, on the fifteenth day of the month, he shall do the like in the feast of the seven days, according to the sin offering, according to the burnt offering, and according to the grain offering, and according to the oil. — Ezekiel 45 | Modern English Version (MEV) The Holy Bible, Modern English Version. Copyright © 2014 by Military Bible Association. Published and distributed by Charisma House. Cross References: Genesis 23:15; Exodus 12:1; Exodus 30:14-15; Leviticus 1:4; Leviticus 4:14; Leviticus 4:27; Leviticus 16:18; Leviticus 19:35-36; Leviticus 23:1; Leviticus 23:8; Leviticus 23:33; Leviticus 23:42; Numbers 11:32; Numbers 16:5; Numbers 28:12; Numbers 34:14; Joshua 11:23; Nehemiah 5:1; Ezekiel 27:28; Ezekiel 34:24; Ezekiel 48:8; Acts 2:36; Hebrews 9:14

#consecration of the land #the prince's portion #honest scales #offerings and feasts #Ezekiel 45 #Book of Ezekiel #Old Testament #MEV #Modern English Version Bible #Military Bible Association #Charisma House

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mtg-cards-hourly · 10 months

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Consecrate Land

Artist: Jeff A. Menges TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$5.17 #jeff a. menges #consecrate land #unlimited edition #enchantment #aura

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il-predestinato · 2 years

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Reminder that next week we are going to the place where Lestappen has a love tree blooming

OMG!

Happy 1 year anniversary to the Lestappen love tree! 😍🥹

On this day (June 5) in 2021, Charles planted a cypress tree and Max watered it - in celebration of World Environment Day.

Couple goals. 🥰

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #baku is lestappen holy land #consecrated ground for real #azerbaijan gp 2021 #elle.ask #anon #YOU ARE THE BEST ANON FOR REMINDING US ALL

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scarletooyoroi · 9 months

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Y'know. Sometimes when I go through Yashiori in order to collect more of the samurai mats, it just hits me.

Outside of the Fatui, a majority of the people there aren't alive in the technical sense. The samurai and treasure hoarders you pretty much just blow into oblivion there? Especially since the worst of the VHD back and forth war?

Those are quite literally shambling zombies.

A lot of people in the war efforts, the in between, left these notes that focused on how they were having horrible side effects under the Tatarigami. Losing their hair, rashes, heavy bleeding and also losing teeth?

imagine if they played off that horror element a little bit more? Actually letting them appear more decrepit and rotting?

Tie that with the release of the filth/dark memories that are running rampant during that time, that place more or less became a veritable hell on Teyvat, where the inexperienced and unfortunate likely met some gruesome fates.

#| OOC Musings #like the re-establishment of the seals wouldn't just drain that out #stop the excess?? Yes #but that's still all those slain folks on that land reanimating #and those living corroding into 'that' which would be an issue #the fact consecrated beast are also popping up there? just bad news #i love it

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prabodhjamwal · 4 months

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Need To Distinguish Political Project Of The Hindutva From Hinduism

Sandeep Pandey* A Ram temple consecration ceremony is scheduled in Ayodhya on 22 January. This temple is being built, after demolition of a mosque at the same place, in the name of a Hindu deity, who is described as epitome of virtues. The act of demolition, described by a Supreme Court judgement as criminal act, was carried out by political organizations believing in Hindutva ideology. The land…

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lordgodjehovahsway · 8 months

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Exodus 13: God Calls Israel to Consecrate All Firstborns as Sign of Him Delivering Them Out of Egypt

1 The Lord said to Moses,

2 “Consecrate to me every firstborn male. The first offspring of every womb among the Israelites belongs to me, whether human or animal.”

3 Then Moses said to the people, “Commemorate this day, the day you came out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery, because the Lord brought you out of it with a mighty hand. Eat nothing containing yeast.

4 Today, in the month of Aviv, you are leaving.

5 When the Lord brings you into the land of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Hivites and Jebusites—the land he swore to your ancestors to give you, a land flowing with milk and honey—you are to observe this ceremony in this month:

6 For seven days eat bread made without yeast and on the seventh day hold a festival to the Lord.

7 Eat unleavened bread during those seven days; nothing with yeast in it is to be seen among you, nor shall any yeast be seen anywhere within your borders.

8 On that day tell your son, ‘I do this because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt.’

9 This observance will be for you like a sign on your hand and a reminder on your forehead that this law of the Lord is to be on your lips. For the Lord brought you out of Egypt with his mighty hand.

10 You must keep this ordinance at the appointed time year after year.

11 “After the Lord brings you into the land of the Canaanites and gives it to you, as he promised on oath to you and your ancestors,

12 you are to give over to the Lord the first offspring of every womb. All the firstborn males of your livestock belong to the Lord.

13 Redeem with a lamb every firstborn donkey, but if you do not redeem it, break its neck. Redeem every firstborn among your sons.

14 “In days to come, when your son asks you, ‘What does this mean?’ say to him, ‘With a mighty hand the Lord brought us out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.

15 When Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us go, the Lord killed the firstborn of both people and animals in Egypt. This is why I sacrifice to the Lord the first male offspring of every womb and redeem each of my firstborn sons.’

16 And it will be like a sign on your hand and a symbol on your forehead that the Lord brought us out of Egypt with his mighty hand.”

Crossing the Sea

17 When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, “If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt.”

18 So God led the people around by the desert road toward the Red Sea. The Israelites went up out of Egypt ready for battle.

19 Moses took the bones of Joseph with him because Joseph had made the Israelites swear an oath. He had said, “God will surely come to your aid, and then you must carry my bones up with you from this place.”

20 After leaving Sukkoth they camped at Etham on the edge of the desert.

21 By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night.

22 Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people.

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saetoru · 7 months

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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

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you #thirstee!#teepods.writings #fics.

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tismrot · 7 months

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GOOD OMENS in CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER (a fanfic helper)

I tried to find this online, but I only found bits and pieces here and there. This should be a very good tool when writing fanfics, or just for understanding the narrative - so, here's my best attempt at a timeline for the canonized events in the show. Let me know if I missed any, or if something is wrong! CHRONOLOGY of GOOD OMENS 4004 BC: Before the Beginning (Sunday, October 21st, Nowhere, no name for Crowley) Aziraphale meets Crowley as an angel in Heaven pre-Beginning and Crowley makes a star factory. 4004 BC: The Eden Wall (Rather more than 7 days later, Crawley) Crowley finds Aziriaphale on the Eden wall and they talk about right and wrong. Aziraphale gave his sword to Adam and lies to God about it. Eve looks about 6 months pregnant. 3004 BC: Noah’s Ark (Ancient Mesopotamia, Crawley) Crowley finds Aziraphale in front of the Ark and they talk about how God will drown kids. 2500 BC: A Companion to Owls (Land of Uz, Crawley) Crowley and Aziraphale work together to save Job's kids from God. 1353 - 1336 BC: Nefertiti's reign as queen, during which, at some point, Aziraphale did a magic trick for her. (Thebes/Luxor, ancient Egypt, Crawley) (unfilmed, just mentioned) We know he fooled her with a "lone caraway seed and three cowry shells" 33 AD: Crucifixion of Jesus (Golgotha, Palestine, name change to Crowley) Crowley (canonically confirmed female form) tells Aziraphale she showed Jesus the world. 41 AD: Oysters in Rome (41 AD) Aziraphale playfully tempts Crowley to go eat oysters with him at Petronus' restaurant. If this isn't innuendo, I don't know what is. 537 AD: Medieval England/King Arthur (Kingdom of West Essex) Aziraphale as a knight of the Round Table meets the Black Knight (Crowley) who suggests the Arrangement for the first time. Aziraphale says no. 1020: The Arrangement is agreed to (unfilmed, just mentioned in the book or by Neil) I can't find the exact date - tell me if this is wrong? 1040 - 1601: Crowley and Aziraphale act on their arrangement "dozens of times", as mentioned in the Globe Theatre. As far as I've understood this arrangement (correct me if I'm wrong) it means that whenever they receive orders from Heaven or Hell, they tell the other, compare notes, and if it takes place in the same area, they agree that just one of them has to go do both tasks. Either that, or both tell their respective bosses that the task has been done, because they would have cancelled each other out either way. Letters would probably be too risky communication other than "Let's meet up at....", so I assume they have seen a lot of each other during this time. 1500s: Something related to the Catholic Church and the Papacy (Rome?). (Unfilmed idea) My theory: Raphael/Crowley (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino) works as painter in Rome from 1508 until his "death" in 1520. He was invited to Rome by Pope Julius II and was immediately commissioned to work on a series of frescoes for the Pope's private library in the Vatican Palace. Crowley can't enter consecrated spaces. Hilarity ensues. This would explain his conversation about helicopters (in the book) with Leonardo da Vinci. 1601: Hamlet (Globe Theatre, London) Aziraphale and Crowley meet inconspicuously as Shakespeare struggles with Hamlet (both actor and play), and Aziraphale agrees to do both his and Crowley's assignments in Edinburgh. 1650: Aziraphale does his first apology dance (unknown) Nothing more is known about this event. 1655: Agnes Nutter's book is published, and doesn't sell a single copy. 1656: Agnes Nutter is burned (Lancashire, England, 1656) After writing the Nice and Accurate Prophecies, she is burned by Pulsifer's ancestor. 1793: French Revolution (The Bastille, Paris) Aziraphale puts himself in harm's way by dressing like a nobleman while looking for crepes in revolutionary Paris, just so that Crowley will save him. 1800s: Aziraphale opens his bookshop. (Soho, London) I can't figure out when, it just says 19th century online. Crowley asks if Aziraphale wasn't supposed to open a bookshop when he saves him in the Bastille.

1827: The Resurrectionist (Edinburgh, October) Aziraphale and Crowley discuss morality, meet Elspeth and Wee Morag - and the body snatching doctor.

1827 - ????: Crowley sleeps or is in Hell We don't actually know long or exactly when, but in the book it's mentioned he only got up to go to the toilet once. Why?

1862: St. James’s Park, London Crowley is paranoid, Aziraphale won't give him holy water. 1862 - ????: Wild West meetup (Unfilmed idea) Neil Gaiman just had the idea, it wasn't filmed.

1928: Crowley buys the Bentley And he keeps it in tip-top shape until the Not-Apocalypse. 1933: Aziraphale gets his driving license (unknown location)

1941: WW2 Blitz (London) Church bombing, magic show, photo taken, shades of dark and light grey.

1967: Aziraphale gives Crowley holy water (Soho, London) ...And says Crowley goes too fast for him. He does it because Crowley is about to orchestrate the robbery of a church. One of the robbers is Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, who we meet later. He offers his 'army' to Crowley.

1980s: Crowley designs the M25 (Hell) No other demons understand the whole thing about constant, low-level, effortless evil.

2007: Three children are born in a hospital in Tadfield The old switch-a-roo.

2007 - later that night: Godfather meetup (Soho, ca 2009) They're drunk, talking about whale brains and agreeing to raise Warlock as nanny and gardener.

2012 - 2018: Raising Warlock (Winfield House, England) He's way too normal! 2018: Not-Apocalypse (Saturday, August 11th, Tadfield Airbase) Do I need to explain this? 2019 - 2023: Beelzebub and Gabriel start meeting each other. We see them meet in an American bar, a Russian café and in the Resurrectionist in Edinburgh. 2020: Lockdown (London) Aziraphale goes on about cake, Crowley wants to come by and watch him eat. Aziraphale chickens out.

2023: Jimbriel (Soho, London) A naked archangel with amnesia shows up on Aziraphale's doorstep. --- UPDATED AND IMPROVED

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captainofthetidesbreath · 11 months

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Karna and Colin are fascinating mirrors of one another, just complete reversals and inverses.

They are people of no national allegiances in the end, and they play to whoever side has an open seat that serves their goals and needs. Karna from Fructera to Vegetania to Ceresia to the Meat Lands. Colin from the Dairy Islands to Vegetania (which recognizes his knighthood) to Fructera (where Raphaniel was sent).

Both grew up with nothing as impoverished on the streets, are of the commonfolk. Karna considers herself fully an orphan of Fructera, and she rejects Amangeaux trying to position Karna as a daughter. She is the daughter of no one but the streets of Comida. Colin has struggled under the weight of his ancestry because the powers that be value lineage so deeply and will see him as a threat merely for his grandfather's identity—even as this lineage is nothing to him. He was orphaned by those powers that be for simple fact of birth; he is trying to orphan himself and make himself a descendant of no one of consequence.

They both have great disdain for those who as dismissive of shedding the blood of the commonfolk as a price for their games, disdainful of the exceptionalism of the powerful. But where Karna leans into ensuring an equality of bloodshed, the nobles will bleed as much as the commonfolk, Colin leans into his solidifying morals and is compelled toward a more traditional defense of the common people.

They both avoid the spotlight and direct attention, but they run in opposite directions with power. Karna works toward it, eager to play the game and hungry in her ambitions. Colin runs from it, anxious of its pull and fearful of what it asks people to do. They've both held the position of Deli's skáld, and their (for lack of a better term) preferred playstyle in this game takes the form of advisement.

The men they succeed are ghosts, dead but not gone. Karna kept a specter of Ja'Cru Dite, puppeteering his face and voice for her own ends. (Interesting that she is, now, a Phantom rogue.) Lucas Fontina, Colin's grandfather, haunts Lacramor with such presence that his apparently illegitimate son was tortuously murdered in response, and their deaths haunt Colin.

Death, an early one, hangs over them both. Wasting away in the service of the Hungry One, now believing it can be kept at bay and finding hope in that. Fearing of suffering the tortuous death of his grandfather and father, now no longer caring about this consequence and clearly finding a freedom in it.

Both have spent so much of their lives motivated by survival and made so many choices for their own self-preservation. Karna now finds that Deli is the first thing she has desired beyond that. Colin is focused beyond that on "[making] a difference with the people who did this to him" and working against the Sanctus Putris, now that he no longer cares about his secret being discovered.

They've even swapped partners in this grand game—Karna from Raphaniel to Deli and Colin from Deli to Raphaniel.

Karna has become a believer in some of the ideas of the Sanctus Putris. Colin remains a nonbeliever even as he is consecrated a holy knight of the Bulbian Church in his search to work against the Sanctus Putris and support Raphaniel, who advocates for this smoothie oblivion. The two of them work in tandem with opposing sects, each who preach conflicting eschatologies and apocalypses.

I feel like I'm missing so many other parallels and reverses between them, but this is already is such a strong basis of the inverse between them.

#Colin Provolone #Karna Solara #The Ravening War #TRW spoilers #Dimension 20 #d20 things #trw meta #long post for ts #trw things

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insane-brit · 11 months

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Royalty (prologue)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulmate!fem!reader

Part Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Tags/warnings: Enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, dark story/themes, anger, blood, bond seen as sacred (religious terms used), borderline hatred, mentions of Muzan’s wrong deeds.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word count: 672

The thread of fate marked many people’s lives since the beginning of time. It had many names, strand of providence, mortal bind, but no matter the denomination, it would attach itself to every living creature to grace this Earth. Binding their soul to another’s. Searing each other’s quintessence in an unbreakable link. To what daemon created such an inane occurrence, Muzan Kibutsuji did not know. It was engrossing to imagine. A demon, a behemoth to this land having such a foolish rope running from his veins and out into the depths of creation. However, he didn’t have one. Long before becoming this, before becoming perfection he had one. That gossamer thread felt like silk running between his fingers, and then it snapped.

Hundreds of years passed by in the blink of an eye and it never manifested itself again. Naturally, a mortal soul could only prolong itself for so long before its demise. Whoever had been tied to him all those years ago would be nothing but dust in the Earth’s crust. It didn’t matter to him anymore. An insignificant creature tied to him would only serve to be a thorn in his side. A weight he could not take on with the circumstances at hand.

A fascinating reality revealed itself as more and more of these creatures were fabricated by his hand. The progenitor studied their mannerisms, capability, and artistries, and through his own deduction and coercion, gained the knowledge that these organisms soul ties were cut. Upon their transformation, any link they had flowing from their wrist was severed. Just like his was on that day. A remembrance of their humanity, along with their memories exhausted with a puncture and drop of his ichor.

To deprive beings that once thirsted for the connection of another was a whole other power in itself. While he already felt and displayed the hierarchy to all, with him on top, this realization only fueled the fire that smoldered in his core. It gave way to new leverage and means of suffering, and he relished in every second of it.

Which is why he didn’t give much thought to the slight tug accompanied by a tingling sensation that spread under his sleeve. A mere remnant of what used to be. The last bits of what remained of his soul attempting to grasp at the traces of what tied him to his late mortal body. At least, that was his notion until it burned. An odd sensation circulated in his veins, and it felt as if they were swelling. However, when he gripped the cuff and wrenched it towards his elbow, he saw nothing.

The clinks and gurgles of liquid in flasks and tubes resounded throughout the infinity castle as he stared impassively at the sickly skin. Whatever vixen dared to tease the withered bond had better scurry along. The caresses of the wicked were not welcome, and yet a pale red permeated under his wrist. A surge of ecstasy engulfed his mind and body. The consecrated thread unveiled itself from a haze and danced around between his digits. It’s end dwindling as he watched it extend farther away from his position. Its form enveloped in blood.

His frustration reached its peak at this development. Blinding rage boiled his revered blood and escaped through hot breaths. How dare fate have the temerity to send forth this declaration. Was this retribution for his deeds? His arm swept across the table, slamming into the fine glasses, splintering them into millions of pieces. How revolting to be tied to something worthless. The string throbbed under his skin as he seethed. The essence of his supposed other half coated his like candied honey.

The rising temptation to ruin the tie with his sacrilegious acts was weighing heavy on his mind. Yet, he would face eternal torment for attempting to ravage what most would consider a blessed gift.

“Insidious…mutinous thing.”

He ran the tip of his finger along the thread. Letting it slice open the tip to drink in his blood.

#demon slayer muzan #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kny muzan #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #kibutsuji kny #kny x reader #kny x you #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #x reader #demon slayer x reader #muzan demon slayer #x you #kibutsuji muzan

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dailyadventureprompts · 4 months

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Dungeon: The Seeping Tombs

The learned and pious council of the king's advisors concluded that if sickness was a sign of moral failing, that medicine was a form of ennoblement allowing the sinner to bypass suffering without repentance. By royal decree the healers were thrown in along with their patients, the gates sealed behind them.

Constructed during an age of ignorance, these now innocuous ruins were used as a prison for those who had committed no crime besides falling ill. Pestilence ravaged the land, and after years of failing or outright refusing to control its spread the old king and his pious inner circle began to resent the masses who suffered under under their misrule.

The building that became the tombs was already under construction, intended as the foundations for a great temple dedicated to the king's imperious patron deity. When the work crews grew sick their bodies were passed into the lowest reaches to prevent the spread of miasma, joined soon after by dead from the local villages, and eventually those afflicted but still living.

It was not long after the gates were sealed that something otherworldly come to dwell within the tomb, suborning the natural process of decay causing those interred within to rot into a sickening and malevolent sludge.

Adventure Hook: A new magical malady besets those descended form the king and his pious council, and though some have inherited their forebearers' zeal and callousness many others are quite innocent. When traditional cures fail, The party are hired to seek an answer, and whether through research or the consultation of oracles find themselves pointed towards the seeping tombs. Irony of ironies, this exact sickness was being looked into by talented physician condemned by the king's order, consigned along with her research to a squalid death among those she tried to save.

Whatever the source of the present malady, it has a sense of cruel justice that the party should be wary of.

Challenges & Complications:

Summoned by the prolonged fear, suffering, and affliction of those trapped within the tombs, Juiblex, demon sovereign of ooze, has consecrated the tombs as an altar to despair and wretchedness. The tunnels are overrun with its spawn, along with undead who's spirits cannot rest for all the cruelty that was done to them in life.

The longer and deeper the party explore, the more sick they're likely to get.

Early chambers of this dungeon are a great excuse to use the classic "what looks like a skeletal warrior approaching slowly down a corridor is actually a gelatinous cube & its last meal" encounter, which is a treat in and of itself.

The upper reaches of the tomb are controlled by a nest of ghoulish knights and footmen, who were originally tasked with driving droves of the sick into the dungeon, only to find themselves sealed inside along with the afflicted. As fearful and proud as their departed liege, they play at piety and honour willing to lend aid to the party for a chance to escape the tombs and run rampant on the surface.

The middle reaches of the tomb see the party exploring twisting, sticky corridors, their progress fenced in by portcullises and other defences that need to be opened remotely. These hurdles do not stop the level's guardian, a massive and inexorable ooze that will chase the party with relentless slowness once alerted. Expect an oddly paced chase scene as the party works on opening a path forward while trying not to get trapped in a room by the sludgy green tide.

The cure to the magical malady lays with it's source: the ghost of the masterful physician who's long simmering resentment has manifested as a curse. Having been denied the chance to save her patients, she must be convinced why she should allow her research to be used to save the realm's ungrateful rulers while the victims of their callousness go unmourned. Her counter-offer is as brutal as it is poetic: Let the sickness at the heart of the kingdom devour those who benefit from it, and let the future come as it may.

Art 1

Art 2

#dungeon forest #undead #ooze #juiblex #heironeous #mid level #sickness #plague #disaster #ruin #dungeon crawl

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srbachchan · 1 month

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DAY 5891

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 4/5, 2024 Thu/Fri 1:05 AM

Birthday - EF - Caroline 'Coky' Moheb, .. all love and wishes for a wonderful day .. and many days ahead .. from the Ef and me ..❤️

In the quiet of the night when the birds are asleep and the crickets have subdued their vocals , doth the Blogomaestra conduct his voice and unending connection with the dearest Ef .. some that have been with us from the time of beginning .. some having left and some joining in in the newest ..

A quiet day .. a reflective time for the mind .. a few times spent on seated breathing by the yogic columns of thought and teaching .. and that is it ..

One wonders where the thoughts come from .. one wonders why and the how .. one consecrates it as simply not understandable .. and some or rather one particular dubs it as a high end secretive rendition that even the most sophisticated secret agencies, find difficult to give it elucidation ..

It's the making of the modern mind - crammed with a volley of the highest speed rendition through the wires and cables of information .. multiple bombing the targets that have hitherto remained aloof and silent .. making it difficult at times to punch the right word and name that is at the tip of the tongue but simply not forming to be rendered ..

Some naysayers put it at age, and the conditioning of the brain at this age condition .. some dexterously avoiding the obvious strained illness in its politeness and refraining .. and some simply not quite interested in its relevance .. a natural , I believe .. for the interest in the other or another , does not feature in its capacity to be given attention and debate ..

So .. we trundle along ..

Mumbling in the search for the desired word or expression and the relevance of the net and its informative machine that puts the gravest queries to rest at the punch of a black square or the touch on the 'h' ..

The 'h' .. aaah .. such an innovative express, by the Americans ..

The 'h' is for the phone in your hand (h) .. the 'res' is for the land line at your residence (res) .. and 'work' etc., are too descriptive to get into abrieved formulations ..

Abrieved .. !! yes the communication 'funda' .. uff .. hate this expression 'funda' .. wonder how it developed .. but yes there it is .. the shorter the best ..

H R U .. how are you ..

K .. okay

etc., etc., etcetera ..

And the convenient emojis .. blessings in disguise .. for some .. not for the old world or at times for different mobiles .. for , at times your ❤️ emoji comes as a 🀄️ or something .. confusing the reader at all costs ..

🤣

hope this laughing buddha came out right ..

Right .. then time for the retire .. 😴

My love as ever .. 🌹

Amitabh Bachchan

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kirkenovak · 9 months

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I’ve watched the Dungeons and Dragons movie too many times for it to be healthy and I decided to make it everyone else’s problem.

Honor Among Thieves/Dreamling crossover?

The Endless exist in the DnD setting but they don’t concern themselves with the affairs of gods and mortals, they just ARE. They exist outside the planes and influence all of them, albeit in different ways. They aren’t worshipped and usually aren’t well known.

Dream and Death do their visit to the mortal realm and meet Hob Gadling, Dream and Death have their bet and Hob becomes immortal. Now, in the DnD, unnaturally long lives aren’t that unheard of. There are elves who had already been adults when Hob became immortal, who are still alive. Arguably, Hob could pass himself off as a weird half-elf hybrid and no one would be too surprised he’s been knocking about for several centuries. But a human that not only lives long but doesn’t die? At all? No matter the manner of death, no matter the damage done to him, he just gets up again and keeps on trucking? No. That’s not normal. That shit’s weeeeeird. You don’t want to be advertising that unless you want every evil wizard warlock lich sorcerer and whathaveyou knocking on your door. So Hob still has to hide.

He of course still meets Dream every 100 years in the inn (every paladin and cleric with divine sense in the area does a little >_>). He still pretends to be his own son. He still does hundreds of different things. He still has a fight with Dream that causes Dream to walk out on him. He still buys the White Horse and waits for Dream. Dream is still captured by Burgess, a mighty wizard who really REALLY wants to conquer death but doesn’t want to be an undead because yuck.

Meanwhile, Xenk Yendar has met Hob in his travels several times already and is absolutely not buying the “I’m his son, I’m the son’s son, I’m the son’s grandson” excuse but Hob seems harmless, commits no evil acts (that Xenk knows of *coughscoughs*) and doesn’t register as anything otherworldly or undead so Xenk leaves him alone. That is until he walks into The White Horse one day, sees Hob for the first time in years and immediately senses that this is a temple, the land is consecrated, this man is the priest. The problem? A priest of what exactly? Normally it’s not really his business but given that Hob is a bit shady to begin with, it just doesn’t seem right. He asks Edgin for help, after all, who better to charm and swindle his way into Hob’s good graces and get some answers than a professional conman/thief/ex-Harper/bard who just doesn’t do magic, no seriously, what’s the deal with that.

This is where Ilmater decides to intervene. Sure, normally he wouldn’t stick his Devine nose in the matters on the Endless but he is the god of suffering, and both Dream and Hob are suffering, albeit in different ways. He sends his favourite paladin a vision of Dream and Hob, who then confines in Edgin and his crew and so, the DnD version of the fishbowl heist is born!

Starring: Xenk, the hottest paladin in existence; Edgin the spell-less bard; Edgin’s barely concealed lust for Xenk; Doric the most OP wildshape in existence; Simon the Sorcerer (no not the game, the game is great tho. Available on iOS. Try it. Starring Chris Barrie of the Red Dwarf fame as the voice of Simon. It has a sequel too tho not as good); Hob Gadling, the immortal but he can’t reveal he’s immortal and also has no idea who Dream is or what his true nature or even name is… wow he’s kinda useless in this setting and nobody trusts him; and Holga the carrying everything on her broad shoulders.

#dungeons and dragons #honor among thieves #the sandman #dreamling #xedgin #Hob gadling

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statisticallymorelikely · 8 months

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00Q edit for @ironpe: demon!Q kidnapped

James gets the call at six in the morning, just a couple hours since he dragged himself out of the proverbial fire and back into the frying pan, the frying pan being the hotel room Q had secured for him for his post-mission wind down. Tanner's voice is haggard and grave on the other end of the line but James is not surprised. In fact, he'd been expecting something like this.

It had been years since he'd felt exposed, Q's power had been a reassuring companion in that time, but as he was escaping away on his motorcycle earlier that evening, an unease crawled up his back. He felt unprotected, a figurative shield sliding like water off his back. It was one thing to not have Q in his ear, but to not feel his presence at all was a different kind of vulnerability altogether. It was unnerving.

And so, he had been waiting for this call.

Tanner's voice washes over him as he relays details of Q's abduction, how they did it, who the assailants were and what they want in exchange. James listens idly, cleaning his guns almost on auto-pilot until he catches the only piece of information that matters to him: Q's estimated location. Finally given the scent, James goes on the hunt.

---

Q had been to church only once in his long and weary existence. It had been to tempt a priest. Having just been recently deployed to Earth, he was a trainee still. His supervisor had given him a list to accomplish: a tour of the classics, and what could be more stereotypical than convincing a priest that a few coins in his pocket was well-deserved. (After all, he took care of his flock so the flock should take care of his needs.)

What his supervisor failed to mention though was that temptations like those were best served via whispers in the wind at night while Q himself stayed right outside the window, because stepping onto consecrated land was excruciating. No, Q learned that lesson the hard way, and that pain is seared onto his memory forever, second only to Falling.

It's that same pain that's now coursing through his being, rendering him helpless on the floor of the abandoned church this terrorist group has chosen to hole up in. An outside observer would attribute his current state to the admittedly harsh beating he's been taking at the hands of their interrogator. But honestly, the blood and bruises are misleading. Endless punches and low level electrocution are nothing compared to the thrum of heaven in his bones, trying and failing to purify his wretched soul over and over again.

Finding a moment to think seems impossible and yet his mind eventually fights through the haze of pain and crawls its way toward James. He wonders how his little investment is doing. With Q incapacitated like this, his protective wards over James will surely be down. Q had inconveniently left him vulnerable during a crucial part of his mission, not that he had much choice. He hopes the madman hasn't gotten himself prematurely blown up, though it would be hilarious if he did. Maybe they can laugh about it together back in hell.

It's a little funny how much that thought comforts him.

---

James finds them in an abandoned church in a small town just outside Paris. Operatives like him are often referred to as ghosts. Terrifying yet unseen, taking enemies out quickly and quietly and then disappearing just as silently. Not this time though. This time, James is a demon. A furious tempest sent to rain down fiery judgment against those who have sinned.

He moves from room to room, searching, killing, no words, no hesitation. No need to interrogate anyone, he'll find Q when they're all dead. It doesn't take long, not with a vengeful double-oh on mission.

James opens the last door, down to the small catacombs, shoots the last two men and finally sets eyes on Q, sitting limp and lifeless in a corner.

"Q!"

He crouches down next to him, one hand coming up to check for a pulse on instinct. There isn't one. Q didn't need one, but James knows he likes to keep up appearances.

When he carries Q out of the church, there's a lump in James' throat as he looks down at the frail, bloody creature in his arms. Q may have damned him all those years ago, but they've also spent those years together, building a strange kind of trust amidst all the danger and death and bickering. He always wondered why Q didn't just let him die the moment he signed his contract, but also protected him, shared his power with him, and allowed him to do good. Now, he fears he may never get the chance to ask.

Numb, he trudges past the all the blood and the bodies, as he makes his way into the surrounding forest where he'd stashed his car. He walks past the fence, each step crushing overgrown grass underfoot getting heavier and heavier until James concedes and kneels down on the ground.

"Am I supposed to pray?" He bites out a bitter laugh, looking heavenward. "Is that what you want?!"

"No, you dolt," comes the hoarse whisper. "Just get me away from this place and I'll recover."

James gasps in relief, eyes watery as he holds Q tighter against his chest. "You prick, I thought you'd died."

"Oh, James," Q wheezes out. "I never knew you cared."

"You know what? Neither did I."

#00Q #007 #quartermaster #james bond #00Qedit #happy momf bebby #au edit tag #im so sorry for the rushed ending i ran out of both time and braincells #i hope you still like it #technically this same edit can just be regular old kidnapped Q #but i know you like the demon au we made together #demon Q

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