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sarahghetti · 6 months

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direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. “Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

#moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #at time of posting i feel like dogshit ✌️#pls enjoy i am going to bed now goodnight #mk bingo 2024

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the-mortuary-witch · 7 months

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SATANISM INFO

WHAT IS THEISTIC SATANISM?

Theistic Satanism, otherwise known as traditional Satanism, is a religion where we worship one or more supernatural beings. Our major deity, Lord Satan, is often viewed as a father/brotherly figure. Although, some theistic Satanists actually believe in a version of the Egyptian God “set”.

Regardless of which one you believe in, none of them resemble the Christian Satan (we do not worship the biblical Satan). They both share the qualities of the symbolic Satan, which are sexuality, pleasure, strength, and rebellion against Western mores. Satan as an entity can be found all throughout Paganism as several different Gods.

The same role, the same realm, etc. He also traces back all the way to the Egyptians. The term “Satan” originated in Judaism as a title for those who were opposers and accusers, many people held that role, not just one. The role can also be seen throughout different Pagan Gods as well. Many demons hold the role of a Satan, there is not just one. They are not all abrahamic and certainly are not evil.

Theistic Satanists follow a more Pagan lifestyle, as it is considered a Pagan religion. Therefore, the Satan we follow also has Pagan aspects. Not biblical whatsoever. Worshipping the biblical Satan and believing he is not evil is actually Diabolism, not Theistic Satanism.

Theistic Satanists never have and never will worship the biblical Satan.

Don’t listen to anyone who says we do and that there is “only one” Satan. They’re very uneducated.

WHAT IS ATHEISTIC SATANISM?

Atheistic Satanism, otherwise known as LaVeyan Satanism, is an atheistic branch of Satanism made in 1966, where you do not believe in a supernatural being, rather they view Satan as a symbol. There is no God nor Satan, the only “God” is the Satanist themself.

Atheistic Satanism is a religion that questions authority, stands up for the truth and fights for justice.

Atheistic Satanism also takes part in magic and rituals of self-empowerment and therapy (not everyone does, but many do). As defined by LaVey, Satanism is celebration of the self. It encourages people to seek their own truths, indulge in desire without fear of sociable taboos and perfect the self.

UNDERWORLD GODS:

• Cerberus: Hound of Hades, guarded the gates of the Underworld and prevented the escape of the shapes of the dead.

• Charon: ferryman of the dead.

• Cronus: King of the Titanes, and the hod of time.

• Erinyes: three goddesses of vengeance and retribution.

• Hades: King of the Underworld and god of the dead.

• Hecate: hoddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts, and necromancy.

• Hermes: the guide of the dead who led souls down to the Underworld.

• Hypnos: god (or Daimon) of sleep.

• Moirai: three goddesses of fate.

• Nyx: the goddess of the night.

• Persephone: Queen of the Underworld and goddess and spring growth.

• Thanatos: god (or Daimon) of non-violent death.

FAQ:

HOW CAN I ASK A DEITY RESPECTFULLY THAT I WOULD LIKE TO WORK WITH THEM?

To ask a deity respectfully that you would like to work with them, you could say something like this:

"Dear (deity's name),

I have heard great things about you and feel a connection to your energy.

I am seeking guidance and knowledge, and I was wondering if you would be willing to work with me?

If you are interested, please let me know what I need to do to establish a connection with you.

Thank you for considering my request,

(Your name)."

After you have written the note, you can either keep it as a record of the prayer or dispose of it in a way that demonstrates respect and gratitude. If you decide to keep it, you can place it in a special box or file to keep as a reminder of your connection with the deity. For disposal, you could burn the note as an offering to the deity, to represent sending the message with your intention and energy. Or, you could bury the note in the ground, as a way of returning it to the earth and giving thanks for the energy and guidance you received.

IS THERE A TIME LIMIT TO LEAVING OFFERINGS OUT FOR DEITITES?

There is no specific time limit for leaving offerings out for deities. You can leave offerings for as long as you feel that they are needed or wanted, and then take them away when you feel the connection has been made or when you feel it has run its course. It's important to be respectful of the deities and to approach offerings with the intention of connecting with them rather than simply "paying tribute." As long as you're mindful and respectful of the deities and their energies, you can leave offerings for as long or as short a time as you wish.

DO I NEED TO ASK EACH DEITY IF THEY WOULD LIKE TO WORK WITH ME BEFORE PRAYING TO THEM?

It's not necessary to ask each deity if they want to work with you before praying to them. However, it can be a good idea to do so out of respect and as a way of establishing a connection with them. Each deity has their own personality and energy, and different deities may be more or less willing to work with you based on your compatibility and their own interests. By asking first, you're showing consideration and respect for the deity you're wanting to work with, and they may be more likely to respond positively to your request.

CAN I USE ONE ALTAR FOR PRAYING TO MORE THAN ONE DEITY?

Yes, you can absolutely use one altar for praying to more than one deity. Each deity has their own energy, but using one altar is a convenient way to streamline the process. By having one altar, you can create a space for all your deity work, saving time and effort on setup and cleanup. Additionally, you might find that the synergy of multiple deities on one altar provides an even greater connection between you and the deities you're working with.

CAN I PRAY TO MORE THAN ONE DEITY IN A DAY?

You can absolutely pray to more than one deity in a day. Each deity has their own energies, so it can be beneficial to invoke different deities at different times for different purposes. For example, you might pray to Lucifer in the morning to gain strength and confidence, and then pray to Lilith in the evening to gain insight and inspiration. There's no right or wrong way to work with different deities, so feel free to experiment and find what works best for you.

DO I ALWAYS NEED TO GIVE OFFERINGS TO DEITIES I WORK WITH?

No, you do not always need to give offerings to the deities you work with. It's a matter of personal preference and the individual relationship you have with the deity. Some people give offerings to establish a connection and build a relationship of respect and reciprocation. Others may have a different arrangement with deities that may not involve offerings, such as exchanging energy or favors. Ultimately, it is up to you and the deity to determine what arrangement works best for both of you.

DO I HAVE TO USE A HAND SIGN WHEN PRAYING?

Some people feel that using a hand sign or gesture when praying to a deity can help you to better connect with their energy and express your intentions. However, it's not a requirement. The important thing is to make sure that you are being sincere and genuine in your prayers. The deity you are speaking to won't require any specific gestures from you, so focus on communicating your true feelings and desires.

CAN I USE THE SAME OFFERING BOWL FOR OFFERING STUFF TO MANY DIFFERENT DEITIES?

Yes, you can absolutely use the same offering bowl to make offerings to multiple deities. This is quite common and can be a respectful way of showing gratitude to multiple deities or expressing your devotion to a variety of energies and forces.

 When making offerings to multiple deities, it's important to keep in mind the differences in their energies and preferences. You should make sure to choose items that are appropriate and relatable to each of the deities you are offering to. You can experiment and see what combination of offerings seems to suit the different energies you are working with best.

WHAT DO I DO AFTER OFFERING A PHYSICAL OBJECT TO A DEITY THAT I CAN’T BURN, EAT, OR DRINK?

After offering a physical object to a deity that you can't burn, eat, or drink, you can keep the offering as a sign of devotion and appreciation. You could display the object on an altar or shrine dedicated to the deity, or place it in a special spot in your home as a reminder of your connection with them. The important thing is to show respect and gratitude for the deity's presence and influence in your life.

It's up to you whether or not you would like to cleanse the object after offering it. Some people believe that offering items to deities can create a spiritual connection or attachment between the deity and the object, and that a cleansing can help to reset the energy and clear out any negative energies that may be lingering. If you feel drawn to cleansing the object, it can be a good way to ensure that it is a pure and clean vessel for the energy of your deity.

WHAT CAN I USE TO CARVE A DEITY’S SIGIL OR RUNES INTO THEIR CANDLES?

• A sharp, pointy object such as a knife or pin.

• Sewing needle.

• Wood-burning pen or tool.

• A marker or felt tip pen.

• The edge of a metal object (e.g. a pen or paperclip).

• Paintbrush: to apply acrylic or oil paint for more elaborate designs.

• Small tool: You can also use a small chisel or carving tool to carve the shape of the sigil or rune into the candle.

WHAT CAN I USE TO CLEANSE AN OBJECT?

• Moonlight: exposure to moonlight can be a powerful way to cleanse an object of negative energy.

• Natural cleaning agents: you can use natural cleaning agents such as salt water or herbal infusions to cleanse an object.

• Smoke: burning incense or white sage is a common way to clear negative energies and cleanse objects.

• Sound: you could also use sound such as bells, chimes, or chanting to help remove any unwanted attachments to the object.

• Energy clearing: some people utilize reiki or other forms of energy clearing to remove negative energies from an object.

• Burning herbs or sage (or other cleansing materials): is a common and straightforward way to cleanse and purify an object.

• Sound cleansing: playing certain tones, mantras, or frequencies to cleanse is a simple and effective method.

• Water cleansing: spraying water or soaking an object in purified water is a simple and effective way to cleanse and purify it.

• Crystals: using crystal energy and/or placing crystals on or around an object is a unique and effective way to cleanse and purify it.

HOW CAN I TELL IF SOMETHING IS A SIGN FROM A DEITY OR IF IT’S JUST A COINCIDENCE?

• A physical sensation or feeling: when you pray or meditate and experience a physical sensation or feeling that feels distinct or out of the ordinary, it could be a sign from a deity, especially if the feeling is unexpected or unaccounted for.

• An unexpected event or occurrence: sometimes, something unexpected or out of the ordinary can be a sign from a deity.

• Change in energy or vibe: if you notice a noticeable shift in the atmosphere or energy of the space, it could be a sign from a deity, as energies can be very strongly felt and can often be very distinctive.

• Sudden synchronicity or coincidence: when you notice something that feels too uncanny or too specific to be just a coincidence, it could be sign from a deity, as they often communicate through synchronicities and meaningful coincidences.

• Unexpected thought or feeling: when you experience an unexpected thought or feeling that feels out of place or unusually strong, it could be a sign from a deity.

HOW TO RESPECTFULLY DISPOSE OF A BURNED OUT CANDLE THAT WAS USED FOR A DEITY?

When you have burned out a candle that you used for a deity, you can dispose of it in multiple ways, depending on your personal beliefs and practices. You can either bury it in the ground, recycle it and dispose of it as a normal candle, or discard it in a ritualized manner. It's important to take into account the candle's symbolism and your relationship with the deity you used it for. This will help you decide on what disposal method is right for you and your practice. Ultimately, it is up to you to decide how to dispose of the candle properly and honor the deity.

CAN I LIGHT ALL MY DEITIES CANDLES AT ONCE?

Yes, you can light all of your deities candles at once. It is appropriate to honour each deity in their own way, and lighting candles is a common way to dedicate offerings and prayers to your deities. You can either light each candle individually, with a specific prayer or dedication to each deity, or you can light all of the candles together with a single prayer or dedication for all of the deities collectively. The choice is up to you and how the candles resonate with you and the deities that you seek to connect with.

#fyp #fypシ #fypシ゚viral #fypage #fyppage #tumblr fyp #satanism #satanist #deity #deity work #deity worship #occult #information

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yammyyyy · 2 years

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#asian #black #egyptian #model #fashion #street style #home & lifestyle #clothing

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five-rivers · 1 year

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The Intern

AO3

Inspired by a variety of DPxDC posts, but mostly this one by @gettingcomfyinyourwalls

Before Danny's Accident, he and Jazz had competed for the title of "the normal one" with an intensity and ferocity achievable only by siblings in families where there was no normal one. After the Accident, he had to cede the title, however reluctantly, to his sister, who then, in a turn around only possible for siblings, then dedicated herself to giving Danny the title of "the one everyone thinks is the normal one." Combined with his chosen friend group - a girl who pursued weird as a lifestyle, and the kid who once tried to use a tamagotchi to hack a vending machine, then gave the tamagotchi an Egyptian burial when the attempt killed it - it was very easy to forget that Danny was not normal at all. Not even if you ignored the whole "half-ghost superhero" thing, which was very difficult to ignore.

It was even easier to forget what kind of not normal he originally was, before the accident, and continued to be even afterward.

However, the world (and particularly Sam and Tucker) was about to be reminded.

"Guys!" shouted Danny, literally skipping up the hallway to come to a bouncing stop between Sam and Tucker. "Guess what!" He was quivering with so much excitement that his edges looked a little blurry.

Tucker put a hand on his shoulder to get him to stop. "I guess it's a good thing, and not that your parents invented a ghost wiggler or something?"

Danny stilled. "The ghost wiggler. My enemy."

"Wait, I was joking."

"Mom and Dad weren't. That thing was evil."

"Okay, okay," said Sam, raising her hands, "it didn't have anything to do with one of your parents' inventions. What did happen?"

"Two of my summer internship applications were accepted," said Danny, almost sparkling with delight.

Actually, he was sparkling. If he had an internship outside of town, he would have to get that under control.

"That's great," said Sam. "Which ones?"

"Lexcorp and Wayne Industries!"

"Lexcorp?"

"Wayne Industries?"

"You applied to Lexcorp?" demanded Sam, appalled.

"You're going to Gotham?" asked Tucker in the same tone.

Danny looked from Sam to Tucker, then back again. "Yessssss?"

"To work for the guy you call Bald Vlad? The one who keeps trying to kill Superman?"

"The place with all those crazy villains and mad scientists? That Gotham?"

Then, together, they asked, "Why did you even apply there?"

"Lexcorp is a civilian leader in astronautics, meteoritics, cosmochemistry, nuclear physics, quantum computing, robotics and medical research."

"Because Lex Luthor is trying to kill Superman."

"And even beyond Wayne Industries, there are so many great scientists in Gotham, like Dr. Isley, Dr. Crane and even Dr. Fries!"

"Danny, those are the villains."

"Well," said Danny, "I figure I'm never going to meet Lex Luthor, being an intern and all, but if I see any dangerous weapons, I can trash them! I have lots of experience."

"Don't you think it might be a little dangerous for you to work for an avowed human supremacist?"

"It’s not any different from staying home."

Sam leaned back to stare at a point over Danny's head, flummoxed.

Tucker, not liking his point being ignored, squeezed Danny's shoulder. "If you miss fighting that much, I'm sure any ghost you ask will be happy to spar with you. The villains, Danny. Why do you want to go somewhere with that many villains?"

"It's not like I'm joining them." Danny rolled his eyes. "I just want to talk to them. If you're so concerned, I can take Dr. Isley and Dr. Crane off the list."

"Why only those two? Why not get rid of the whole list?" asked Tucker, shaking him slightly.

"Because Dr. Isley was mostly for Sam and Dr. Crane was mostly for Jazz. Dr. Fries is for me, and Mom and Dad want me to try to convince cousin Hugo to try therapy again."

"Why," said Sam, as Tucker glared at her, "do you think I'd want you to talk to Poison Ivy?"

"Uh," said Danny, "because you admire her work?"

"Admired, past tense, and that was before she started turning people into trees."

“But the ‘turning people into trees’ part is way more applicable to our lives!”

“Forget about that,” said Tucker. “Why do you want to talk to Mr. Freeze?”

“Well, Doctor Fries is an expert in cryogenics and incorporating ice into technology. I want to be able to do that.” Danny looked back and forth between Sam and Tucker. “Come on, I’m not interning for him. I just want to expand my knowledge base! Just think about all the cool things I could make!”

Sam and Tucker, united in horror and purpose, grabbed Danny by the arms and dragged him bodily into Senior English.

"Jazz," said Sam, hauling Danny forward by the arm she held, "your brother is turning into a mad scientist!"

Jazz looked from Sam, to Danny, to Tucker, then back to Sam. "Yessssss?"

"Well," huffed Sam, "aren't you going to do anything about it?"

"No? Why would I?"

“Mad scientist,” repeated Sam.

“That’s generally a bad thing,” said Tucker.

“It’s fine. Danny has a very strong sense of ethics.”

“And lab safety!” chimed in Danny.

“And lab safety,” agreed Jazz, nodding. “Now, if you want me to help you with your internalized prejudice, I can refer you to some resources I’ve found quite helpful myself.”

“Internalized prejudice is when you’re biased against yourself,” said Tucker.

“Yes.” Jazz returned to the task of arranging her pens and notebook on her desk.

“Wait,” said Sam, “you are not calling us mad scientists, are you?”

“Well,” said Jazz, “Mad Science Disorder isn’t in the DSM, but there’s a movement to have it included in the next edition, and I think you would fit the proposed diagnostic criteria.”

“No,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Danny.

“I have seen the inside of your greenhouse, Sam,” said Jazz. “You’re at least on the road to being a mad botanist, if not a mad ecologist.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” said Tucker.

“And you’re obviously a mad computer scientist, with a minor in archaeology.”

“Wait, why are you saying this like they’re college majors?” asked Tucker.

“It’s easier that way,” said Jazz. She frowned slightly. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just that you should be aware of it, so you don’t wake up one day and start planning involuntary human drug trials, or something like that.”

“Jazz did that, once. I was five.”

The warning bell rang.

“You should go to class,” said Jazz, pleasantly. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Listen,” said Sam, leaning over the desk to whisper at Danny, “couldn’t you, I don’t know, just do the Wayne internship?”

“Hm,” said Danny, rubbing his chin, “maybe. But I kind of get the feeling I only got the Wayne internship because I got the Lexcorp one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, like we talked about way back, Bruce Wayne has to be funding the Justice League, at least a little.” He pushed his math homework - already finished - to one side. “It’d make sense for him to keep an eye on anyone Lex Luthor personally hires, on account of the Superman thing. It’s either that or corporate espionage.”

“Wait,” said Tucker, leaning in from the side, “go back to the ‘personally’ part.”

“It’s a special internship?” said Danny, somehow still managing to pull off the clueless innocent look. “It was, like, competitive? You know what I mean.”

“Luthor personally hired you? Reviewed your application and whatever?”

“Yeah.”

“And you think he isn’t going to meet you?”

“Why would he? I’m basically going to be getting a tour, then doing drudgework for a month.”

“I love you, man, but you are so, so dumb sometimes. The man is going to meet you. Jeez, I hadn’t even heard he was doing internships like that for our age group.”

“Age group?” asked Danny.

“Dude. No. Tell me it was at least limited to just high schoolers. Tell me you didn’t apply for an internship meant for college students.”

“There wasn’t any age on it as far as I remember.”

“Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Falluca, “will you please come solve this triangle for the class?”

Danny huffed. “Rule of cosines,” he said as he stood. “Give me an easy problem…”

“Why is he even in this class?” mumbled Sam.

“Ghost hunting,” Tucker mumbled back.

“How are you even going to get to Metropolis?” asked Sam as they walked away from the school. “You don’t have your license yet.” He probably wouldn’t have his license ever. Three Fentons driving had, evidently, proven too much for the local DMVs. Jazz, as conscientious as she was, had gotten hers from the one in Elmerton before they, too, realized the horror that was Jack and Maddie.

“Jazz is going to take me,” said Danny with a little shrug. “She’s doing a pre-college thing there. Some kind of volunteer thing.”

“And how are you getting to Gotham?”

“There’s a train that goes there,” said Danny. “Like, a regular one.”

“And getting back?”

“Mom and Dad will pick me up.”

“Where will you be sleeping?”

“There’s on-site dorms on each site.”

Sam curled her lips. “The return of company towns in the modern era.”

“I don’t know, I think the Wayne ones are probably fine.”

“But you’re sleeping in the Lexcorp ones?”

“I figure I can disable any subliminal programming devices that might be installed there.”

“Do you not see how crazy that sounds? Tucker, back me up, here?”

Tucker sighed. “Honestly, I don’t think we’re going to be able to change his mind. I’ve been picking out funeral flowers. You still like lillies?”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll call you guys if I need help. Just like you’ll call me if some new ghost shows up and starts causing trouble, right?”

“Yes,” said Sam, exasperated. “But you understand those two things aren’t the same, right? That with the way things are here, there probably won’t be a new ghost causing trouble?”

Danny had made… peace probably wasn’t quite the right word, with the Fentons, the Guys in White, and the lack of an organized overarching social structure, but there was an understanding between him and the ghosts. Without that understanding, he wouldn’t have been able to take the time to apply for internships, let alone actually go to any.

“I mean, if it’s an imposition–”

“That’s not what she meant,” interjected Tucker. “Nope. Nope. You aren’t wriggling out of calling us when a supervillain kidnaps you. She’s trying to talk you out of taking an unnecessary risk.”

“It’s not really a risk for me, though.”

It really wasn’t. Danny might not be invulnerable, but the sheer variety of his powers along with his accelerated healing made that point academic. For most enemies.

“This is the guy who fights Superman, Danny,” said Sam. “For all we know, he’s got some kind of anti-ghost material in the same cabinet he keeps his Kryptonite.”

“I don’t think that’d work very well, actually,” said Danny.

“It was a metaphor. Be serious.”

“I am being serious. This is something I want to do. I want to go there and learn and prepare for the future.”

“You sound like Jazz, you know? You’ve got two more years here. You don’t have to do this. If this is some kind of overcorrection because of the ghosts–”

“It’s not. I told you why I wanted to do this.” He stopped on the sidewalk, pulling on the hem of his shirt. “Is it really that bad? Is it really that terrible that I’m going somewhere and doing something that I’m interested in?”

“No,” said Tucker, awkwardly. “We’re worried about you.”

“And I’ll be fine,” insisted Danny. “Really. I will be. And, you know, like I said, I want to do this kind of thing in the future, so it’s good practice.”

“For what?” asked Sam, crossing her arms. “Scamming supervillains?”

“Well, yeah,” said Danny. “That, too.”

Sam’s arms fell, along with her jaw. “What?”

“Scamming supervillains,” said Danny, starting to walk again. “Like, obviously, I want to either do something with spaceflight or something with a big humanitarian dimension, but scamming supervillains is definitely going to be my backup. Or maybe my hobby. They always have the coolest stuff, and a lot of money, too, usually.”

“Coolest stuff?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, almost skipping, now. “Ice rays, supercomputers, gene therapy, rapidly growing vegetation, limb regeneration, cloning techniques… Lex Luthor came up with a cure for, like, over half a dozen different types of cancer.”

“Because he wanted to kill Superman,” said Sam, taking up an earlier refrain. It had only

“Yeah, but imagine what he could do if we could convince him that Superman got his strength from, like, world hunger or something.”

“I hate it,” said Sam, after a long moment, “but I think you have a point.”

“You two could go into business with me. Some villains go through goons so fast, I bet we could hit them about a dozen times.”

“You’re not planning to do this now, though, are you?” asked Tucker.

“Huh? No. No, not until after graduation. Most I’ll do with any supervillains I see this time around is talk.”

“That’s a lie,” said Sam, immediately. “There’s no way. The first time Man-Bat or Brainiac jumps out of a sewer, you’re going to start swinging.”

“Man-Bat is a geneticist and a chiropterologist, you know,” said Danny. “I’d love to take Brainiac apart, though. Do you have any idea how many planets he’s wiped out? And the stuff he’s got to have–”

“You’re floating,” said Tucker.

“And glowing,” said Sam. “You’re really going to have to work on that.”

“Oops,” said Danny. “Sorry. It’s just, like, everything I’m Obsessed with.” He landed, but still fidgeted, as if shaping something invisible with his hands. Which he might have been. “It’s– I still want to help people.” The plaintive note in his voice made it clear that ‘want’ was, in this case, closer to ‘need.’ “I don’t mind doing the hero thing, and I can’t ignore a cry for help. But I’m not going to just waltz into someone else’s territory and start messing with stuff.”

“I think the territory thing is more of a ghost thing than a hero thing.”

“Eh,” said Danny, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Danny waved goodbye to Jazz as she pulled away from the curb, then grinned up at the Lexcorp building. Wow, it was tall. And probably had a lot of really sketchy stuff in the basement.

But! He wouldn’t start poking around with that stuff until he’d been there for at least a week.

(Okay, he’d probably last twenty-four hours at most, but who could blame him? How often did anyone get to poke around the lair of a supervillain who wasn’t their archenemy?)

He walked into the lobby, craning his neck this way and that to take it all in. It was… honestly pretty boring. Not unlike Vlad’s buildings. But he supposed that all corporate buildings were like that to some degree.

“Hello!” he said, walking up to the front desk. “I’m–”

“You’ll have to wait for your parents to come out, I’m afraid, sweetie,” said the secretary. “Company rules.”

Danny blushed. “No, um, I’m here for the internship? The Innovators of Tomorrow Today internship? I’m Danny Fenton. Daniel. Daniel Fenton.”

The secretary blinked at him, then looked down at her computer for a moment. “I’ll need to see some ID.”

“Will my passport be okay?” Danny asked, tugging on his bracelet to get it to lie more comfortably on his wrist. On account of the whole ‘no driver’s license’ problem, he didn’t have anything else, other than his student ID.

“That will be fine,” said the secretary, reaching for it. She looked it over carefully, becoming more and more confused. Danny wondered if she was expecting it to be fake or something. “You’re fifteen.”

“I know I’m short,” said Danny. “But I’m almost sixteen.”

“I see,” she said. “Well. Here’s your visitor badge. We’ll have someone come escort you to the meeting room shortly, and your internship badge will be ready when you start tomorrow. You can leave your luggage here, and it will be scanned and brought up to the dorms.”

Danny bobbed his head happily and took back his passport and the badge. He couldn’t wait to meet the other people he’d be working with. He bet that there’d be a lot of people his age, no matter what Tucker said after he looked it up and saw the website.

A tall man wearing an earpiece and some kind of weapon - a taser, probably - walked up to Danny a few minutes later and scanned his badge. With a few words, he directed Danny to an elevator - one with a keypad code - and brought him up to the tenth story. The elevator opened directly into a… Danny wasn’t entirely sure what to call it. It was square and very large and open, with soft, rounded furniture, a kitchenette, and a catered lunch spread out on several long tables. One wall was all windows, looking down into Metropolis, and another wall was covered in cool, art-deco Lexcorp posters.

There were a lot of people.

A lot of tall people.

A lot of tall, college-aged people. Older college-aged people, even. No teenagers.

Tucker had been right. Great.

A middle-aged woman extracted herself from the loose crowd and came over to Danny, smiling.

“Hello!” she said. “You must be Daniel Fenton. My name is Liberty Rue, I’m the coordinator for the Innovators of Tomorrow Today program.”

“Hi,” said Danny, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Ms. Rue nodded. “Thank you, thank you. We’re just giving everyone a chance to get to know each other before we start the orientation. Please feel free to take any of the refreshments and mingle. All of you are going to be working together closely. Your specialties were electrical engineering and space science?”

“Yes,” said Danny. Although, to be honest, he didn’t really have a specialty. He was more of a generalist.

(Unless you counted ghost science, but there was absolutely no way he was going to bring that up.)

“Excellent. Let me introduce you to the group you’ll be working most closely with–”

What followed was something of a whirlwind. It wasn’t that there was a lot of people, but it was one after the other, and Ms. Rue seemed to be… showing him off, almost? Or showing the other people off? In any case, there was a weird tension to it all.

Was it because he was younger?

He tried not to dwell on it too much, though, because everyone here had so much cool stuff to talk about. Almost all of them had been involved in serious graduate or undergraduate research projects. Strange matter, transient dimensions, reality fields, meta gene analysis, non-quantum teleportation, reproduction of extraterrestrial technologies… Danny was starting to feel a little inadequate. The project he’d sent in was a ‘theoretical’ blueprint for a spy-bot disabler. One that he was proud of, sure; getting a localized EMP effect without a nuke wasn’t easy, but it was doable. And the EMP part was definitely the ‘last resort’ stage of things. It was, after all, much better to hack into Vlad’s bugs and have them send him a hundred hours worth of rickrolls.

In the middle of a conversation about exactly how much room you needed for a decent particle accelerator, Ms. Rue stepped aside and put her hand to her ear. Danny hadn’t noticed the earpiece before, but now he looked at it with curiosity. It was well made, and he could barely hear it, even with his slightly augmented hearing. He wondered if they were designed to counter Superman.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Ms. Rue, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to steal you away for a moment.

“Okay,” said Danny. He followed her back to the elevator, stealing a cookie as he went. They weren’t as good as his Mom’s, but he was pretty sure they tasted the way they did because of their ectoplasm content, so…

Ms. Rue punched a code into the elevator and scanned her badge. “Alright, Mr. Fenton. Go ahead. You’ll be taken where you need to go.”

Well. That was maybe a little sketchy, but Danny was nothing if not curious. He got in. “I’ll be back in time for the orientation, right?”

“If you aren’t, I’ll make sure you’re shown around personally,” promised Ms. Rue.

The doors closed and the elevator went up. And up. Then stopped for a moment, during which Danny felt the tingle of a very thorough full-body scan. And up some more. All the way to the top. The doors opened to a sparkling office. Everything in it was white, chrome, or glass, with smooth straight lines and geometrically perfect curves. It blended perfectly with the skyline of Metropolis framed by the full-wall windows.

Between Danny and the windows was an enormous white desk. Behind the desk was Lex Luthor.

“Daniel Fenton,” said Lex Luthor, inclining his head ever so slightly towards Danny. “It is good to meet you.”

“Thank you,” said Danny, trying not to squeak. “I’m happy to be here. I’m looking forward to working here for the next couple of weeks.”

“It is heartening to see that you are more open to cooperation than Vlad.” Luthor turned away, slightly, surveying the city below him.

Danny took that as an invitation to come closer and peer out the huge windows himself. What did Vlad have to do with this?

“I confess, I found myself frustrated by his lack of vision,” continued Luthor, “but youth often holds wisdom that age lacks.” He turned back to favor Danny with a smile. “On seeing your application, I was charmed by your initiative in circumventing your mentor.”

Danny’s train of thought, such as it was, derailed.

“Mentor?” he asked.

“You don’t have to hide it,” said Luthor. “Not when we are both quite aware of the others’ knowledge. Considering my wealth, I am privy to a number of things that ordinary people are not. Including the beneficiaries of my fellow billionaires’ wills.”

Oh. Oh, no. Lex thought– But why– Was he– He couldn’t be right, but– But did this make Danny a… a… nepotism baby?

The sprout of confidence that had been flourishing ever since he got the letter announcing his acceptance to the internship program withered. This was even worse than finding out he and Jazz were test tube babies. (And that was only so bad because his parents had felt the need to go on a long tangent about how they had selected their donor-parents, as large portions of Jack and Maddie's genomes were unstable due to a combination of the family proclivities and a variety of curses.)

Lex Luthor stood. “Doubtless, you’re interested in the projects I outlined to Vlad when I proposed our cooperation. The device blueprint you submitted for the internship referenced them quite cleverly. I would like to show you how far they’ve progressed since I spoke to Vlad, and then we can discuss your contribution to their success.”

“I don’t have access to any of Vlad’s resources, Mr. Luthor,” said Danny, cautiously. “I couldn’t provide any, er, funding to these projects.”

“I am aware of that. But I think your value goes above and beyond the financial, Daniel.” He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “After all, the reason I approached Vlad was his science background. And in a few years… Well. Vlad Masters is not a young man.”

Was that a murder threat? Danny thought it was a murder threat. Oh, boy, did he have something else coming for him if he thought he could just kill Vlad like that.

Luthor directed Danny back towards the elevator, and this time they went down. Far down. Into those basements Danny had been thinking about before.

They stepped out into a vestibule, and a pair of much more openly armed security guards saluted Lex before running through a series of security measures. Danny took note specifically of the ones intended to detect mind control and shapeshifting.

From there, they passed through a series of locked doors and into a maze of gleaming white hallways. The color made Danny’s skin itch. Too much like the GIW for his taste.

Luthor opened a side door, and showed Danny into an empty lab. Empty in terms of people, that is. In terms of stuff… blueprints, prototypes, models, drawings, coffee cups… not so much.

“I had the team take the day off,” said Luthor. “I thought you’d appreciate the chance to look at things without any distractions.”

Danny surveyed the plans with interest. There were similarities between what was being built and the mini-EMP portion of his bug-zapper. There were also echoes of shield technology… some kind of energy projector or amplifier?

“What is it supposed to emit?” asked Danny, unable to hold back his curiosity. He touched, ever so gently, a hollow place he was sure the energy source was supposed to sit.

Lex smiled. “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “Follow me.”

They went back out into the hallway, but only briefly. The next room had even more security, but Luthor bypassed it all with businesslike efficiency and they entered a plain, all-white and bare room.

One wall of this room was taken up by a backlit display cabinet made of square cubbies. Within each cubby was a tiny chip of crystal, like a sample display of particularly expensive rock candy. Green, of many shades, was the best-represented color, but there was also red and blue. That made sense, because each crystal was made of delicious ectoplasm-infused quartz. Danny swallowed. They were making his mouth water, but the amount of death energy they would have had to be around…

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Luthor. “Kryptonite. The key to repelling our would-be alien overlord.”

Yeah. Remnants of a planet that imploded while still inhabited by billions. That would do it.

“I intend to create a Kryptonite field over the whole of Metropolis, one that should, at the least, disable Superman to the point where we can drive him out. I will sell them to the great cities of America, and then, the world. One day, the whole Earth will be protected, and Superman must either leave, or die. But for now, it is still a dream. That is why I need you, Daniel.”

Danny didn’t think Luthor’s weapon would work. Not now. There was too much missing. Too much being missed by scientists and engineers expecting the Kryptonite to behave in a normal, logical way. He was certain, however, that he could make something that functioned exactly as described. He could even do it quickly, building off ghost and human shield technologies. He could see the pieces of it fit together, like a puzzle.

Making it, just to prove that he, Danny Fenton, could, was tempting.

So tempting.

But he had this little thing called morals, and driving Superman off Earth was definitely in the category of bad.

“Well, I don’t know if I can fix problems all your scientists can’t, but I can sure try to help.” He winced a little at the phrasing. Why did he have to use the word help?

“That’s all I ask,” said Luthor. “But that’s far from our only project. Shall we?”

“Sure,” said Danny, not at all faking his smile. Even though he’d have to sabotage this stuff, it was really cool to see it!

Later that night in his dorm room - which was, incidentally, a lot more spacious than he’d expected - Danny rotated the bracelet on his wrist and pressed a button on its side. Inside the thick band was a miniaturized and completely functional version of the spy-bot zapper he’d submitted as part of his internship application. He listened to it click as it went through the different modes available to it. It tweedled at him when it finished.

Only then did he pull out his phone and power it on. He clicked into his contacts and hit the button for his first favorite.

“Hey,” he said, when the call connected, “Jazz, so… Sam and Tucker might have been just a little bit right about my internship…”

May do more at a later time, but for now, this is it. I am incredibly forgetful, so I don't do taglists. Please consider subscribing to the AO3 version of this instead.

#dpxdc #dannymay #dannymay 2023 #dannymay 2023 day 7: weapon

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