#if you’re talking about something that exists or an existing property of an object that’s already ontology babes! shut up!

[mimeslime]

“Ontologically evil” is the most stupid and redundant phrase that’s somehow entered serious conversation

[maxdibert]

Apart from the blatant classism, the amount of sexual assault defenders in the HP fandom is horrifying. First, they claim that the incident in SWM wasn’t SA because Snape invented the spell himself, so he should have expected something like this to happen to him. Then, when you point out that 1) this is straight-up victim blaming, and 2) when people talk about SA in SWM, they’re usually referring to the 'Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?' line, implying that James removed Snape’s underwear while he was already suspended in the air, they shift their argument. They insist that James surely didn’t strip Snape completely, even though he loudly announced it just before Harry was pulled out of the Pensieve, because 'he would never do something like that'.

Saying that Severus was to blame for being humiliated because he invented the spell is like telling a stabbing victim it’s their fault for carrying a knife to protect themselves. It’s absurd. Having defense mechanisms doesn’t make your abuser any less culpable. But, of course, people will twist reality in any way possible to defend the problematic actions of a white, heterosexual, wealthy bully. It shouldn’t surprise us how many people defend James, when the real world is full of cases like his that go unpunished precisely because of who they are and their privileged circumstances.

The irony is that these same people are the ones who racialize him or headcanon him as non-heterosexual. Folks, you’re looking at a textbook case of white rich male privilege, and you’ve fallen for it. Sorry, but J.K. Rowling and the establishment have won with you.

I honestly don’t care whether James stripped Severus completely or not. Just leaving a classmate in their underwear is already a terrible act of violence. It reveals a narcissistic and sociopathic personality, capable of dehumanizing someone to the point of using them as an object of public ridicule. It’s the same mentality as someone who thinks humans are their property and can be used as public entertainment. Stripping someone of their humanity like that—viewing them as a toy rather than a person—is horrifying.

I could understand people defending James if the bullying had been limited to throwing a few insults his way once in a while. But what James (along with Sirius) did wasn’t just calling him “greasy hair” or giving him a nickname. What they did was torture a person because that person existed, treating him as a punching bag to amuse themselves when they were bored.

What’s the difference between that behavior and the actions of people who bought, sold, or exploited other humans? Or the factory owners who viewed their workers as beasts of burden to be worked to death? Or the aristocrats who made their servants sleep in inhumane conditions because they saw them as property? It’s the same despotic mindset, stemming from someone so privileged and detached from reality that they can’t see all humans as beings with rights. Instead, they selectively decide who deserves basic dignity, treating anyone outside that group worse than animals.

I don’t care whether Severus ended up completely naked or not. Just taking off so much as his shirt in front of others would have been enough—it already crosses every line. Now, imagine Severus had been a girl and reconsider the scene. Maybe then the fans of that sociopath will finally see the light.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Choose Your True Love - Azel Radwan (part 2/4)

This is the from the 4th anniversary event

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. 

Azel (polite): We have 1, 2…3, 4 risk-takers here…Tonight will be a fun night, won’t it?

(Prince Azel?!)

Standing before the large moon, he was cloaked in a holy aura far different from the usual malicious god.

His mysterious presence nearly brought me, an acquaintance, to my knees. The domineering men prostrated in the sand, showing respect.

Ruffian: Living God, we were only going to escort this lost woman back to the city—

Azel (polite): Are you sure? You are making such false confessions so shamelessly. The details of what happened to people who had incurred God’s wrath and received divine punishment have been passed down as legends. However, I am a benevolent god, so I will overlook this one mistake. So—what were you trying to tell me?

Ruffian: ……Our apologies.

Azel (polite): I believe you are apologizing to the wrong person.

Ruffian: Our apologies…miss.

Emma: It’s fine…

(...They’re all trembling)

It wasn’t like Prince Azel wanted to kill them.

There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his words.

Still, the tension was so oppressive that it felt as if a single divine command would erase not just their life, but their whole existence.

Azel (polite): You were about to lay your hands on God’s property. And my policy is to not show compassion to scoundrels who lay their hands on my property. In any case, God’s punishment will come. Be it tomorrow, or the day after, only I know.

There were no objections from the men.

It appeared they understood that they shouldn’t do this sort of thing to the Living God.

Azel (polite): Live piously while trembling in fear. So as to not incur more of God’s wrath.

Prince Azel wrapped an arm around my waist, but as if he remembered something, let go and quickly walked away.

He seemed to be heading toward the city, not the temple.

(...I’ll follow him)

I ran after Prince Azel’s retreating figure.

Now far from the men, I turned my head and saw that they still haven’t looked up.

When the city lights drew closer, Prince Azel finally stopped.

When our eyes met, God’s smile faded.

Azel: Why aren’t you carrying that with you?

Emma: “That”?

Azel: …You don’t have it on you?

Emma: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Prince Azel held his head and sighed.

Azel: That’s right. I wasn’t interested in you at this time.

Emma: …? Setting whatever you’re talking about aside, thank you very much for saving me earlier. I didn’t think you would save me like that… Prayers really do reach God.

Azel: It’s nice to see you’re in a good mood.

I ran after him when he walked away again.

Emma: Are you heading to the city?

Azel: Don’t you want to go home?

Emma: Pardon me for asking, but are you escorting me back?

(That refreshing indifference Prince Azel has toward others…)

Azel: Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just taking a walk.

Emma: Of course you are. …But you’ve never gone for a walk to the city, have you? The reason why I run errands for you in the first place is because you can’t freely walk around the city—

Azel: Are you complaining about what a god’s doing?

A scowling Prince Azel came closer and pinched my cheek.

Emma: I’m sowwy.

Azel: As long as you understand. Look, when I said “a walk”, I meant it. Distrust’s blasphemous.

I nodded and the fingers tormenting my cheek left.

I followed after the footprints left by his long legs, trying not to fall behind.

(Huh? Even when I’m walking as hard as I can, I usually can’t catch up with him. But today, the distance between us isn’t as wide)

(Is Prince Azel matching my pace…? There’s no way)

--

Emma: …Prince Azel, how far are you going to walk for?

Azel (polite): Until I’m satisfied.

Now that he was surrounded by people, he suddenly switched to being polite.

Prince Azel’s sudden appearance startled people passing by.

Usually there’s advanced notice before Prince Azel visits court.

People needed to mentally prepare themselves before their living god appeared, so with his sudden appearance in the middle of the night, a wave of commotion gradually spread.

(Prince Azel didn’t go near the castle because he knew this would happen…)

(Everything really is weird)

(This Prince Azel looks like the one I knew, but it’s as if he’s been completely replaced…At least that’s how it feels)

Azel (polite): …Living in the castle is inconvenient, isn’t it?

It was like Prince Azel didn’t care about the racket around us as he glanced at me.

Emma: Y-yes…As your guest, I’ve always been treated with the highest courtesy.

Azel (polite): That is good to hear. Should you experience any form of displeasure, please let me know. Being disrespectful to my guest means being disrespectful to me.

Prince Azel’s voice was loud enough for everyone around us to hear, making them nervous.

(This concern he had for me was giving me the creeps)

(Just what in the world are you thinking, Prince Azel)

--

Emma: —Wait, why did you follow me into my room?!

[grey-sorcery]

Suggested Reading

A.I & Witchcraft Research Tips Basics of Spellcasting Threshold Theory Introduction to Gnosis

Introduction

Central to the practice of spellwork are correspondences, the intricate connections and associations between various objects, materials, colors, planets, and plants, among others. These correspondences serve as the building blocks of spells, imbuing them with symbolic potency and aligning them with the desired intentions. However, the task of researching, establishing, and using these correspondences is not without its challenges. Correspondences serve to establish a network of interconnected concepts that constitute the essence of a spell. However, it is essential to recognize that correspondences, if misunderstood or misused, can hinder the efficacy of spellwork.

How to Research Correspondences for Use in Spellcraft

When researching to find correspondences, a vast majority of contemporary sources are going to be flowery, simple, and repetitive across many materials, colors, planets, and plants, etc. These correspondences can work fine for you if they resonate with you and are easy to conceptualize. When researching to find pre-existing correspondences, the most reliable sources are going to be the ones that are shared between well-established genuinely old traditions. This obviously does not include Wicca. This can only be done by cross-referencing multiple sources or settling on one you resonate with. These correspondences tend to not be protected concepts and tend to be publicly accessible. However, it is always best to talk to practitioners within that tradition in order to verify. Some correspondences may require cultural context, that you won't have, in order to fully conceptualize them.

Creating Correspondences

When creating correspondences, there are two main avenues of approach, and I recommend using both. Memory & Emotion: When you experience the object/concept in question, think about what it can cause you to remember. Reflect on those memories and find what sticks out to you. Then, you can also reflect on the emotions within that memory. If the thing in question evokes emotion just from its direct experience, include that as well if it differs. Sometimes there may be multiple instances of recollection. This is okay; one can never have too many correspondences. It is okay if correspondences are contradictory, negative, or hyper-specific. What matters is how they could potentially aid in spellwork. Medicinal, Physical & Chemical Properties: These properties can offer a lot of insight into common predictions about their correspondences. They can also be pulled from directly to form new correspondences. Some of these properties may not be useful concepts in spellwork, but having them listed can open the opportunity should it present itself.

Using Correspondences: Threshold Theory

Correspondences are used in order to form a network of connecting concepts that make up the entirety of the spell, which includes the means of manifestation, path of least resistance, energy work, gestures, incantations, and taglocks/targeting mechanism. In order for correspondences to be the most effective, they must be something that is easy for you to conceptualize without needing to break gnosis in order to remind yourself. The nodes created from correspondences should not have overlapping meanings or interpretations in your mind but should have connections that can be made. The process of node creation and connection is a mental and energetic one. The correspondences you use should form a web of concepts that all support the main focus and goal of the working and have a way to be connected to the target. This web should be incorporated into your gnosis and orbit around you as you do your working. While using the objects that have these correspondences is in no way necessary, having them incorporated into your physical working, provided you’re doing one, can be beneficial so long as doing so doesn’t interrupt gnosis.

How Correspondences Can Hinder Your Spellwork

Nearly all spell guides and witchtips you’ll come across express a very simple implementation of correspondences that is wholly ineffective outside of potentially affecting your own psyche. Putting things in places or containers because they have a symbolic meaning to you is not spellwork. Doing so lacks crucial connections, energetic projections, decided means of manifestation, and no direction. While using some things medicinally is very useful, it is not magic as it is no longer the medieval period, and we now have a solid grasp of chemistry. And while using some things in the pursuit of self-care, like putting cinnamon in your coffee or romero in your food, can be comforting, it is not magical but either chemical or psychological. Treating it as witchcraft will result in actual spells you attempt failing and the potential miseducation of those you hold discussions with.

nterested in my other articles? You can find my masterpost here.

Patron Shoutouts!

Megan Kipp Jinsu

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This article was reviewed by and contributed to by ChatGPT. I asked it to spell-check and fix punctuation. I then had it write the introduction, which I then modified to my liking.

[kariachi]

Random: The religion Kwarrel grew up with doesn’t really have a concept of an immortal soul, traditionally- there’s offshoots with their own thing going on but he’s not from one of them. The general idea is that all living beings were created equally to serve their own purposed in forming a whole and dynamic world, and so all living beings must be equal in these sorts of things. When you’re going off that concept there’s really only two directions you can go, which are ‘all living beings have immortal souls’ and ‘no living beings have immortal souls’.

You reach a point in development where you can survive and function on your own, at which point you are alive, you live however long, then you die, that’s it. There is no afterlife, there is no reincarnation, this is what you’ve got. As a result this particular religion and cultures around it don’t have psychopomps, though they do have goddesses over death and over decay (fun fact: separate people).

A few results of all this-

While in the modern day it’s mostly accepted that more extreme forms of parasites that truly rely on their hosts to survive and function still count as living beings, under the argument that they show all signs of life otherwise and were made like this as all other parts of the world were made, in the distant past this wasn’t the case. At least one dead language even specifically separates creatures into living beings, non-living objects, and non-living beings- a category that contained things like tapeworms, but also things like fetuses that couldn’t survive outside the womb yet

It used to be, in cultures that followed this religion and it’s offshoots, that any wanton taking of life- from burning down a tree on an enemy’s property to murder- was considered sort of a combination of murder, destruction of property, and blasphemy. Again, all things are considered to exist for their deities and functionally belong to them. Even your crops you don’t technically own, you just have the right to use as is needed. Wasting it is, again, blasphemous**. As a result, destroying someone’s crops in these areas has traditionally been subject to much harsher punishments than in other regions.

Following on that, wanton destruction of things like rocks- objects not made by mortal effort- has historically been treated as a combination of destruction of property and blasphemy. You can tell areas that have or used to have large populations of this religion by inspecting their mines, roads, and the like. If they seem to go out of their way, even being more inconvenient, in going around or over boulders, hills, mountains, or clearly started out as natural caves? Odds are good.

Rituals surrounding butchering and harvest show similarities to funeral practices. Not enough to be funerals when it comes to most creatures- the general belief is that if something would grant you as much a funeral as it could you do the same (yes this has been used as an excuse to give shit funerals to fallen enemies in war)- but facets of things like proper handling of the dead, proper mourning periods, can be seen in them. Even songs and dances associated with harvest festivals will normally share things like movements or note progressions with those associated with funerals.

In a mirror of this, the songs, dances, and rituals surrounding planting crops, sprouting crops, the arrival of Spring, the birth of livestock, etc? All tend to bear similarities to those celebrating new pregnancies and babies. (Kwarrel probably could’ve sung you seven different songs to welcome new life, depending on what species you were talking about, just off the top of his head)

On the other hand, there’s a whole different and unique category of songs and dances and such surrounding the harvest of things that don’t require death. Fruits, leaves, flowers, milk, eggs, xaa fur, and more. All have their own separate songs and dances, and all tend to share similarities with each other. (Again, just off the top of his head-)

These fuckers uh, lot of music, lot of dancing, whole lot of categories where things resonate with each other, it’s a whole thing

**Fun Fact: This actually led to a holy war at one point in Perison history. A region consisting of mostly followers of this religion (which really needs a name) was taken over by more powerful region that didn’t. As part of subjugating the populace the invaders would often lay claim to harvests, and more importantly leave whatever they couldn’t use themselves or sell for their own profit to rot, harshly punishing anyone who tried to ‘steal’ their scraps. The invaded region had originally been left weak by war with it’s neighbors, and didn’t have much in the way of alliances to call upon, but once news arrived that they were being forced into acts of blasphemy... Well. Their neighbors struck back with a vengeance against the insult- starting shit with the neighbors they don’t like is one thing, forcing the neighbors to go along with insulting their shared deities like that? Didn’t sit well. The region was freed from foreign rule by that war, though it was required to make payments to its neighbors to account some for the resources lost. A few hundred years later the ruling herd collapsed and the region ended divided amongst it’s neighbors, but that’s an entirely different story.

[zaneknight1]

A Guide To Buying Bedroom Furniture for A Stylish Space

When it comes to creating the perfect bedroom, your furniture essentially holds the stage both practically and stylistically. Whether you are redesigning a bedroom from scratch or redecorating an existing bedroom, selecting the right furniture can help turn the bedroom into a comfortable and orderly one. Beginning with cheap ottoman beds that provide a bed drop area to multi-functional bedside tables, every object has a functionality beyond aesthetics.

In this guide, we will talk about essential aspects to address before opting for bedroom furniture, including usefulness, design, and cost.

What Key Factors Should Be Considered Before Buying Bedroom Furniture

Choosing the right furniture for your bedroom can be overwhelming, but breaking it down into key considerations makes it easier.

Here’s what you should keep in mind to ensure your furniture is both functional and stylish.

Choose a Bed That Fits Your Needs

Your bed is the focal point of the room, therefore the right choice will provide comfort as well as storage. In case you require a few more storage solutions and are not willing to compromise on the style, then a cheap ottoman bed is something that you need, which has storage space under the mattress. This is especially helpful in storing bedding, seasonal clothes, or any kind of personal property.

Secondly, it is also good practice to take accurate measurements of your room so that the bed of your choice fits well while freeing up space for other accessories. When selecting the bed, you should consider its aesthetics in relation to the whole house and, at the same time, consider whether it will effectively meet the storage needs.

Choose the Right Bed Size

One of the main reasons for how large or small your bedroom feels is the size of the bed that you’re planning to put in the room. Although king or super-king sizes, for instance, are nicely comfortable, they may not be ideal for small rooms. Hence, a double ottoman bed is great since, if space is still an issue, and one has to opt for one bed instead of having two, then it’s the most useful and versatile of furniture.

The size of the bed has to be chosen with the idea of moving around the bed, and also to think about how other furniture like wardrobe or bedside tables will fit into the bedroom. A correctly chosen size of bed brings sophistication to the room.

Set a Realistic Budget

A realistic budget that takes into account your demands and long-term goals must be established before buying any bedroom furniture. This is why it's always a good idea to prioritise bigger, more necessary items like wardrobes and look for reasonably priced solutions like cheap ottoman beds.

However, you should manage your spending strategically by searching for discounts, package offers, and bargains throughout certain seasons. By doing this, you can secure sturdy, high-quality furniture for your bedroom without going over budget.

Match Furniture To Your Bedroom’s Aesthetic

Bedroom furniture needs to have a style that fits with the entire look of your room. In the case of modern designs, the furniture should be elegant and simple, and the colours should be plain. If you prefer a more traditional feel, wooden furniture with intricate details might be more suitable.

A fabric ottoman bed in a soft, neutral colour can easily match most decor styles, adding a touch of comfort while maintaining practicality. Whatever your aesthetic, aim for consistency in your furniture choices to create a cohesive and inviting space.

Prioritise Durability

Buying long-lasting furniture means that the items that you will have bought will last for a long time, and therefore, using it will be worthwhile. For instance, some of the cheap ottoman beds may still be of good quality depending quality of the material and the working of the mechanisms used.

Furthermore, it should be said that it is always critical to search for materials that are going to be suitable for daily use. Therefore, for most of them, buying long-lasting pieces reduces the number of replacements, which is quite wise.

Conclusion

The selection of bedroom furniture is a bit complex test because individuals have to find products that are comfortable, beautiful, and practical at the same time. Any furniture that you choose, from cheap ottoman beds to easy-to-use bedside cabinets that match the others, creates an overall look about the place. With the help of size and budget estimation, as well as choosing the necessary pieces with multiple functions, you will achieve not only an optimised organisation of space but also a stylish look. With a good choice of furniture for the bedroom, you can easily transform your space into a comfortable heaven that is also practical for daily use.

[anamericangirl]

Oh I am so glad you said you would wait for me to a name one crime other than the only one you seem to know about. Also, you don’t understand why I was laughing at you for saying pro-life people do worse crimes because there’s a Wikipedia page about it lol

But anyway, here are some more crimes committed by pro-choice people other than the one you’ve heard about and actually thought was the only one out there lmao.

Michigan man charged with shooting elderly pro-life canvasser

Pro-life activists assaulted outside a Planned Parenthood in Baltimore.

Several attacks on churches, pro-life organizations, property, and people since the Dobbs leak.

Molotov cocktail thrown at pregnancy crisis center in NC

Arson damages Christian pregnancy center in Colorado.

FBI investigating wave of attacks against pro-life pregnancy centers.

Pro-choice group (Jane’s Revenge) claims arson attack at a pro-life center in Wisconsin.

Jane’s Revenge claimed at least 18 arson and vandalism attacks on pro-life and faith based organizations.

This is not all of them of course but you only asked for one and I thought I’d give you a little more than that as a starting point.

And that’s besides the 40 million+ children y’all murder every year worldwide. You happily support mass murder so you have no right to pretend other people are the violent ones.

“We never shot anyone dead”

But you have crushed their skills, ripped their limbs off, induced heart attacks, and starved and suffocated them, which isn’t better.

I’m not pretending abortion is bad. It is bad. Whether you acknowledge it or not. And I’m not pretending I’m of a higher moral value. I am of a higher moral value because killing babies is wrong and being against killing babies is morally superior to the belief that it’s ok to kill babies.

And I’m going to explain something to you and then stop talking to you. My “side” doesn’t have blood on its hands too and here’s why: the pro-life movement as a whole unanimously condemns any violence committed in its name. Individuals who claim to be pro-life and then doing something bad doesn’t mean all pro-life people are responsible by association unless we support the violence, which we do not.

The reason why you have blood on your hands is because you and every other pro-abort supports violence. You advocate for the murder of the unborn. Your entire pro-abortion movement is founded on violence. It is the worst kind of violence. You can pretend you’re not supporting genocide and that abortion doesn’t kill babies but you are objectively wrong. Millions of babies have been brutally murdered by abortion and you support it. They are people and they have the right to life no matter how much you deny it. The truth isn’t going to away and you are complicit in the evil and the murder of millions of children every single year. And you should feel bad about because you are doing a bad thing. You can pretend you care about “pro-life violence” all you want but that kind of talk is a joke coming from anyone who supports abortion. You love violence and push for it so long as the victims are babies you cannot see. Your side has more than blood on its hands. It’s drowning in blood.

In this particular issue there is a wrong side and a right side and the side that murders babies, which you unequivocally support, is the wrong side. Your side has so much blood on its hands that whatever anyone who claims to be pro-life has done is non-existent in comparison. The blood is all on you because you support evil.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say to you. And I know you won’t listen because you’re a pro-abort and you have no interest in the truth if it means you have to admit you support brutally murdering children but I just engaged with you for a bit so that people can continue to see that the only reason people are pro-abortion is because they are grossly uneducated and you are a great example of that extreme and inexcusable ignorance.

In the US alone…

30 million kids go hungry

2 million kids are homeless

391,000 kids are in foster care

356,000 kids are exposed to gun violence

117,000 kids are waiting to be adopted

And you’re concerned with the single fetus in my uterus? Get over yourself.

[school-of-roses]

*✩Introduction to Correspondences✩*

What does it mean what does it do?

Correspondences are the magical properties of something.  Nearly everything has a magical correspondence.  Even if it’s not an ancient association, there is likely something we associate with a certain object, concept, or idea.  This is what is meant when people talk about, for example, garlic being associated with protection.

Rocks Rock and Colors Shine

Some of the more commonly known correspondences are colors, crystals, and plants.  These are handy to remember, but you aren’t limited just to those.  While the historical associations of these things are abundant, and can add some extra umph to your working, something with more modern associations can also be just as valid.  Things like shapes can have correspondences, or things as untethered as animals can also have correspondences.  It is some part related to how they have long been perceived by humanity as a symbol, and some part related to how the practitioner themselves associates the symbol.

Implementing and Utilizing

Oftentimes correspondences as a concept are largely glossed over, or they’re replaced with other things like listing off common associations.  There is nothing wrong with listing these things off, but they’re going to vary by culture and personal interpretation.  They can be helpful as jumping off points before you start to build associations for yourself.

Now as for using them, they are the building blocks of spells.  If you’re doing a spell to bring prosperity into your life you’re going to want to use things, or a combination of things, that represent prosperity.  A combination of, for example: rice, the color green, some coins, and gold could all go into the spell in order to invoke prosperity.

Store Bought is Fine

When we talk about having our own correspondences, or more modern correspondences, we are contrasting them with the more ancient practices and writings of different cultures.  However, our modern culture still has some value to it as far as correspondences or otherwise providing it’s own associations.  There are some things that did not even exist in the days when the first correspondences were being written down, so finding a source on a more ancient association is impossible.  However, we might still find that there is a common association between something like a phone and communication.

Varying Across Cultures

With magical correspondences different cultures are going to put different emphasis on different aspects.  No one group in humanity’s history has ever agreed on one thing, and while there are going to be common traits of things like herbs in their natural properties, a lot of the time with magic there is going to be more of an interpretation based association than a strict properties interpretation.  Oftentimes we might not even know what or where the correspondences we’re aware of come from.  This isn’t always bad, a lot of the guides provided are meant to help get people started without having to measure every variable.  However, figuring out what tradition or area of the world the associations were aware of originate can give us some insight and context by way of what they were usually used for.  Does this herb have a protective association because it naturally wards off insects like a natural repellant? Does this stone have healing qualities because of a very specific myth or story told about it? This might inform how you use it in your own craft!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I kinda want to know about really random things in the twisted world, like basic household appliances, etc. I'm probably wrong but the blastcycle (?) that Deuce owns runs on magic right? What about other vehicles and/or technology? Is there a magic toaster out there?? Do they still have plumbing issues or can that also be fixed with magic? It's very useless, mundane stuff but I'm still curious

I do think it's fun to think about how things might be different in another world, but I actually don't think some world lore is as mystifying as we think it may be 😅 Twisted Wonderland may be a world of magic, but I'm pretty sure they have (mostly) normal household appliances and objects.

There is definitely a cross that exists between magic and engineering (something Ignihyde students sometimes mention), but it seems to be a specialization and not the norm or the replacement for normal tech. Some items, like phones and cars, seem to work the same as they do in the real world (without magic), as Malleus, a creature who struggles with using technology and predominantly relies on magic to get by, has issues getting accustomed to them. He mentions in the Scalding Sands Fireworks event that he is shocked that people use cars to travel instead of flying, which seems to imply that little to no magic is used in the operation of cars.

Keep in mind that it seems that a vast majority of the human population isn't capable of magic (I believe only 1 in 10 people can use magic), so it's likely that most products and services made are to cater to the magicless rather than those capable of using magic (ie they wouldn't require magical input to be of use). Yes, items can be enchanted in advance by actual magic users to grant magical properties so that even non-magic users are capable of using them (think of magicless MC's ghost camera or NRC's talking portraits), but it seems that these items are considered rare or antiques. In other instances in which magic is cast upon inanimate objects, it serves a certain purpose that usually wouldn’t be possible without magic (ie harvesting mandrakes, changing the color of apples, etc.).

In the case of magical wheels (not going to use blastcycle, I don't like the localization name 🤡), they are stated to run on magic, but they also contain magic-infused batteries so that even non-magic users can ride them. However, some features (it’s not explicitly said which features) are limited if the rider does not power the magical wheel with their own magic. Deuce says in episode 5 that it is dangerous for beginners to ride a magical wheel, which implies that a certain degree of skill is needed for it.

I think here, this rule applies: “just because you can doesn’t mean you should”. What’s the point of making lots of products which require magic for its full potential to be realized? It doesn’t make sense if most of the people you’re marketing this product to cannot make use of it. Another thing to consider is that it would be... plain unwise to just slap on “you need magic to use this”? That alienates a large part of the customer base and adds an unnecessary production step that may overcomplicate things. Like... what exactly makes an enchanted food processor better than a non-enchanted one??? Or an enchanted toaster from a non-enchanted one??? They perform the same exact function, and they’re both technically “automated”.

ASDHYUBASDBASIVDSA ACTUALLY, NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT????? I-Is magic here actually a metaphor for companies in the real world that needlessly add Wifi/Bluetooth capabilities or an app to everything... even the things that don’t need it?????? (I remember seeing that one high-tech saltshaker that needed to connect to Wifi to play music as it measured out the exact amount of salt you needed it to dispense for your meal????)

As for professions... I think there would definitely need to be some specialties to account for magic (like I’m sure there are lawyers that specialize in magical malpractice or whatever, and there are confirmed to be magical healers, which I assume are like real world doctors, PAs, nurses, etc., and magic policemen that work on specialized cases). However, I don’t know if there would be magical plumbers, simply because plumbing problems don’t necessarily need magic to clear up. There probably are plumbers that happen to be able to use magic, but I don’t think resources would be dedicated to making a specialized magic plumbing squad (unless you’re telling me that Twisted Wonderland has plumbing issues that can only exclusively be resolved WITH magic). I think part of the problem is that magic is hinted at to be very “temporary”/not long lasting (especially in episode 5), so it’s not like it’s a quick or a permanent fix for every issue people might have.

Twisted Wonderland probably experiences a lot of the same problems we have in the real world. It’s just that some of those problems are more quickly resolved or addressed using magic, while other things (again, like magical medical ethics) are further complicated by it.

[iguana-eyanna]

No Page Will Resist The Soul I Fell In Love With

Summary: Loki is scared when he is faced with the untold stories of his heritage and terrified to reveal his true form to you

Pairing: Loki x Pregnant Reader

Warning: slight smut

“Motherhood suits you” Loki said, slowly walking into your bedroom. You turn your head and smile at him, shaking your head. “I think it really calmed me down more.” You said with a huff, trying to sit up in an upward position. He shook his head with amusement and helped you up with ease.

“I was a general who killed thousands in wars, created havoc wherever I went, and now I’m an expecting mother on bed rest. But this is a nice change of pace.” you said with a hint of sarcasm, but Loki knew you weren't complaining. He laid his hand on your abdomen.

“Oh darling, leave the havoc to me.” He said, moving behind your figure so you could relax in his embrace; touching every inch of skin, hearing her slight whimpers. You hummed in pleasure, holding his head as his lips found the crook of your neck.

“The healers said that there might be multiples.” You said delightfully, as the other hand found him on the same spot of her stomach. He jerked his face upwards to you in excitement. “I’m not surprised… The way we conceived that day was a memorable night.” His voice got huskier by the second.

You lightly slapped his chest and gave a light chuckle. You both stay in their position for a moment, enjoying the bliss of perfect silence. You purse your lips as you start to have the courage to talk to your beloved about something he’s been avoiding these past months.

“So… I went out to seek the study this past week.” You said slowly, trying to form the conversation with him. He hums in response. “What did you search for?” He asks innocently, as he eyes you leaning to grab an object near the vanity at your side of the bed. You start to unwrap the fabrics surrounding what is appeared as a book and took a deep breath. “The last remains of the Jotunheim history.”

You can start to feel Loki tense behind you as he shifts away, now standing on the ground, looking at you in such pain. “Why would you do that?” You look down, fumbling with the fabric that covers your dress.

“Ever since you told me where you came from: how Odin almost destroyed your world and took you out of it… I started to realize that the wars that we fought for him were just leaving the innocent in agony. We left them defenseless and owning them as slaves and property for Asgard. Who knew how many times the Alfather revoked the true stories of the other nine realms because the winners always rewrite history. But I am growing your child - our child…” you grab his hand and gently place it on your lower abdomen.

“And I want to know everything about them, even if it means learning what you call the darkest part of your existence. No page will resist the soul I fell in love with, Loki. Nothing.” he’s silent as tears roll down his face. He lowers his head as he purses his lips, speechless of the most heartfelt words coming out of your mouth.

“I wanted to learn about the world you were born in. I know that you’re still hurting and you still feel outcasted from your heritage, but I want to teach our children the truth of where they came from. They have every right to embrace who they are and who they want to be, even if they have your true form.” He shoots a glance at you and starts to tear.

“Do you, do you mean that?” He stutters quietly. “Every word, I want them to look up to the man who defied the odds of what he was created to become and decided to create his own fate. I want them to see the real you when they’re born. And hopefully, I get to see you as well.” Then suddenly, you see his walls fall down as his eyes slowly turn red and his skin with the most breathtaking blue. You reach out to touch his face but he inches away.

You take both hands and place them softly on his face. He exhales as he closes his eyes, making his illusion disappear and revealing his true Jotunheim form. He slowly opens his lids and stares at your warm smile.

He kisses your palm near his lips, not being afraid to show who he was anymore. "Thank you, for loving me."

You clear his face from his strands of hair. "I'd do it for a hundred years and more."

[samwisethewitch]

Banishing Nasty Spirits

If you’ve been following this series of posts, you know why a witch might work with spirits, how to establish a relationship with a spirit, and how to communicate with spirits. What we haven’t yet discussed is how to get rid of spirits that are bothersome, annoying, or malevolent.

I was planning to talk about pathworking and astral travel before getting into banishing, but in light of some asks I recently received on Tumblr, I think it’s important that we take a moment to discuss how to get rid of spirits that, for whatever reason, you don’t want around.

There are lots of reasons you might not want a spirit in your space. Just like with people, some spirits just aren’t a good fit for you and your practice. Part of being a spirit worker is cultivating a “spirit team” of beings that you can have healthy and beneficial relationships with.

Some spirits are mischievous and like to cause trouble. If you find yourself on the receiving end of lots of spirit pranks, you may want to gently encourage them to move along. And there are some spirits out there who just genuinely hate humans and will go out of their way to cause mental, emotional, and even physical harm.

Don’t get me wrong — malevolent spirits aren’t common. In my experience, the vast majority of unwanted spirits are more annoying than dangerous. I’m not saying this to scare you or make you paranoid. But these things do exist, and it would be negligent of me not to mention them in a series on spirit work.

There’s a reason that one of the most common truisms in witchcraft is, “Never conjure something you can’t banish.” If you’re going to be working with spirits, it’s a good idea to know how to banish them just in case. With that being said, here’s how you can clear out any nasties that may be lingering in your space.

Cleansing

The first step is to kick those unwanted spirits out of your space. There are lots of ways to do this, so choose the one that is the best fit for you.

Cleansing with fire and smoke is a very old and very simple method. If this is the way you decide to go, there are several magical substances you can burn to banish spirits. Burning sulfur or asafetida will clear out just about anything, but they both smell awful and are potentially toxic, so you’ll want to get an okay from the other people living in your home, burn a little at a time, and make sure you have lots of windows open. (Some people say sulfur and asafetida will banish all spirits, not just the unfriendly ones, so you may have to invite your spirit team back in later.) For something that smells a little more pleasant, you can try a mix of frankincense and myrrh resin, or burn a mix of dried rosemary, sage (garden sage, not endangered white sage, please!), and bay leaves — but again, make sure you have windows open, because these get smoky. Plus, you want the windows and/or doors open so the spirits have somewhere to go when the smoke chases them out.

If smoking up your living space isn’t an option for you, you can manually clean your space with a wash or powder. If you have hardwoods, you can make a floor wash with water, salt, lemon juice, rosewater, lavender essential oil, and either bay laurel or rosemary essential oil. (This is adapted from an uncrossing bath in the book Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison.) Use this mixture to mop your floors, as well as to wipe down your walls and furniture. If you have a humidifier or essential oil diffuser, diffusing some of this mix would also be a good idea.

If you have carpet, you can make a powder by combining salt, dried lemon peel, dried roses, lavender flowers, and bay leaves. You’ll need to ground this really fine, so I recommend using a coffee grinder or food processor. Sprinkle the powder on your carpet, let it sit for a few minutes, and then vacuum it up. I would supplement this by also diffusing a mix of saltwater with rosewater, lemon juice, and lavender and/or bay laurel essential oil. If you don’t have a diffuser, at least sprinkle some saltwater around the room and on your belongings.

No matter which form of cleansing you decide to use, it’s important to verbally state your intention to banish these unwanted spirits from your space. Tell them out loud that they are no longer welcome here and that they need to leave. Don’t be rude about it, but be firm and speak clearly and with confidence.

After you cleanse your space, it’s a good idea to cleanse yourself as well to remove any psychic ties to the spirits you’ve just banished. The easiest way to do this is with a ritual bath. The floor wash recipe mentioned earlier can also be used as a psychic cleansing bath. Other options include a bath with salt, frankincense, and myrrh or a bath with salt, rosemary, sage, and bay laurel. You can use essential oils for your bath, or add the resins and herbs to a cheesecloth bag and drop it into the tub for easy diffusing and cleanup.

If you don’t have a bathtub, you can cleanse yourself in the shower. Place two cups of salt in a bowl. Add lemon juice, rosewater, lavender essential oil, and either bay laurel or rosemary essential oil. If you don’t have essential oils, you can add dried lavender and crushed bay leaves. Add some of your favorite body wash to create a scrub (if you don’t have body wash, use olive oil). While in the shower, use this mixture to scrub your skin — visualize yourself scrubbing away any psychic gunk you might have picked up.

Protection

Once you’ve removed any unwanted spirits from your space, you want to lay down some protection to keep them from coming back. There are as many ways to ward off spirits as there are witches, but here are a few ideas to get you started.

One option is to create a ward. You can do this by anointing the door frames, door knobs, and window frames of your home with a protective oil blend and/or by creating lines of salt across your doorways and just inside your windows. You can use other protective substances if you prefer. As you lay down these protections, visualize a protective shield around your home, and speak aloud your intention to keep harmful spirits out.

Iron is said to repel spirits. Keep a railroad spike or other large piece of iron under your bed to prevent nightmares and to keep spirits from messing with you while you sleep. There’s an old superstition that says that hammering iron nails into the four corners of your home protects it from spirits — this may not be possible if you’re renting, but you can create a similar effect by displaying a piece of iron in each of the four corners of your home. Hematite is a crystal that is high in iron, so it can be used in a similar way to ward off spirits.

Aloe is said to protect from negative spirits, and to bring protection and good luck more generally. It’s also a common house plant that is easy to care for, so this method of protection is especially great for witches who need to keep their practice a secret. Keep several aloe plants in your home to protect those who live there.

For witches with a crafty side, making a witch bottle is another option for protection. There are lots of different recipes for witch bottles, but the basic method is to fill a bottle with sharp objects, add something from your body, and hide it somewhere outside your home (traditionally buried on the property, but leaving it in an outbuilding works just as well). The idea is that any nasty spirit that comes looking for you will be attracted to the bottle (because it contains part of your body), get caught by the sharp objects, and be trapped. To create a simple witch bottle, fill a mason jar about halfway with sewing pins, then add a bit of your hair and some of your fingernail clippings, and finally fill it with liquid (traditionally, this liquid is your own urine, but if that makes you uncomfortable vinegar will also work). If you want, you can also include some of your favorite banishing herbs, resins, or crystals.

Religious symbols can also keep nasty spirits away. If you identify strongly with a religion, display protective symbols from that faith in your living space. For example: a Christian witch might hang up a crucifix or set out a statue of Archangel Michael, a Norse pagan witch might hang up an image of Mjolnir, a Hindu witch might display a statue of Durga, etc. Sometimes the most effective way to keep nasty spirits away is to let them know that you’re under the protection of someone more powerful.

When dealing with unwanted spirits, the most important thing to remember is that you do not need to be afraid. You are a powerful witch, and you are more than capable of getting rid of them. Be confident in your abilities and know that whatever happens, you can handle it.

Resources:

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

A Green Witch’s Cupboard by Deborah J. Martin

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

Where the Hawthorn Grows by Morgan Daimler

[drabbles-mc]

Language

Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x F!Reader

@redpoodlern requested more Dad!Creeper and honestly I was more than happy to deliver on that haha. And thank you to @garbinge for always helping me pull together all of my ideas!

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, Creeper being a big ol’ softie with his kiddos

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This definitely takes place in the same universe as Like Father, Like Son because I’m a big fan of the family dynamic that I was sort of starting to build there. If no one has any objections that’s probably going to be my default HC for my future Dad!Creeper fics unless stated otherwise haha. I just love the idea of him with a pack of kids.

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The kids had one week off from school. One week. Seven days. Technically only five if you weren’t counting the weekend. You didn’t want to take the entire week off of work when you would be out on maternity leave in a couple more months, and as much as Creeper wanted you to be taking it easy, he said that if you really wanted save your time off for your leave, he would gladly keep the kids with him for the week.

“You and the guys can’t be doing,” you glanced around to make sure the kids weren’t in the room, “You and the guys can’t be doing serious club shit while they’re there, okay?” you knew that Creeper was always careful, but you also knew that some of the other men in the MC with him weren’t quite as cautious.

“Never, mama,” he leaned in and kissed your cheek, “Don’t worry. We’ll hold it down. It’s been a while since they got some time with their uncles, anyway.”

“Alright,” you nodded, taking a deep breath, “Go round up the gremlins, then,” you laughed, “They should each have their backpack with stuff in it.”

“Givin’ ‘em homework on their week off?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “No, no. Just stuff to do if they get bored at the clubhouse. Coloring books, matchbox cars, whatever else they can fit in there.”

“Pfft,” he shook his head, “like we’ll ever let them get bored,” he let out a whistle, “Let’s go, homies! Time to roll out.”

Their footsteps thundered through the house as all three if them came booking it down the hall, each with their backpacks either on their shoulders or dangling from their hands. Both you and Creeper laughed at how excited they were to spend some time with their dad and their entire squad of uncles at the clubhouse.

“Which car you taking, baby?” you asked him.

“Just figured I’d take the van. It’s got all their stuff in it already.”

You smiled, nodding as you grabbed the keys off the counter and tossed them to him, “Alright, no doing donuts with it.”

He chuckled, “If they ask I won’t be able to tell them no,” he was about to say something else when his phone started going off in the pocket of his kutte. He reached and took it out, brows furrowing slightly as he answered, “Yea? Yea I’m about to head out. We’ll talk about it when I get there,” he shook his head slightly, “Alright yea,” with a huff he hung up the phone.

“All good?” you arched one eyebrow.

He nodded, “Yea. They act like I’m not gonna see them in twenty minutes. What the fuck is that important that it can’t wait?”

You shot him a glare, “Neron! Language, please.”

“Shit, sorry.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He smiled sheepishly, stepping in close to give you a kiss, “I’m sorry, I love you, and I’ll call you later, mama.”

“Mhm,” you laughed as you playfully shoved him towards the door, “Tell the kids they gotta keep your boys in line.”

“They don’t even need me to tell ‘em.”

Very few things rivaled the excitement that the guys felt when they saw the minivan rolling into the scrapyard. Seconds after Creeper threw the van in park, all of the kids came sprinting out. His son leapt out of the passenger seat as his little sisters came tumbling out the back. It was quite the scene watching them walk up with their father, looking like quite the entourage all together.

“Wifey let you take the real whip today, huh?” Angel said with a laugh as he pulled Creeper into a hug.

He chuckled, “Anything for the wolfpack,” Creeper watched as his kids made their rounds to say hi and hug each of the men that were outside the clubhouse waiting for them to arrive.

Angel looked over at the minivan, “Still can’t believe she let you put those fuckin’ stickers on there, bro,” he laughed.

“Yo,” he smacked Angel in the chest, “No swearin’ in front of the kids,” he paused, “What do you got against the stickers? I think they’re cool.”

“Guess I just never thought that your soccer mom van needed fake bullet holes.”

“That’s what keeps it from being a soccer mom van,” he tapped the side of his head with a knowing look, like he had cracked some sort of code.

“Right,” Angel laughed and shook his head before turning his attention to the kids, “Brandon! Get over here! Let’s see if you’re taller than me yet, dude.”

Creeper turned and saw that the twins were already trying to take Hank down to the ground—a goal that they’d had ever since they were little toddlers. Every time they saw him, they got closer and closer to being successful but they weren’t quite there yet. He had one hanging off of each arm as he tried to walk across the yard without falling over onto them. Creeper laughed as he watched the shenanigans unfold, and they’d only been there for about two minutes.

“Alex! Ava!” he shook his head slightly with a smile, “Give Uncle Hank a break, alright? The man has work to do.”

“They’ll be taking him to the ground soon enough, man,” EZ laughed as he let Hank struggle with the two little girls.

“Make sure you’re filming it,” Creeper responded with a laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“How’s Y/N?” EZ asked.

“Pregnant,” he looked over at EZ and laughed, “Nah she’s good. Working this week, so we got some extra help around here.”

“She’s still working?”

He nodded, “Oh yea. She’ll work till the baby pops outta her,” he shook his head, “I don’t know how she fu—” he caught himself, “I got no clue how she does it, man.”

“Pregnancy one of those things you get better at the more you do it?”

He laughed, “Why don’t you ask her next time you see her?”

“Hard pass,” he shook his head, laughing.

Creeper was glad that he had an entire team of guys to help him try to tire them all out, because it wasn’t an easy task in the slightest. At one point he was fairly certain that he lost them in the depths of the scrapyard and when he did finally find them, they were running around and playing hide and seek where all the scrapped cars were kept. The only thing that kept him from having a heart attack at the sight of it was knowing that none of the cars had any glass left in them that the kids could cut themselves on. But the three of them had easily turned the scrapyard into their kingdom.

“C’mon, lunch time,” he called out to them and they all hesitated, not quite ready to give up the game. Creeper sighed, “Chucky made lunch for you guys.”

That was all it took. Their eyes lit up and the girls almost pushed their brother to the ground in an attempt to beat him back to the clubhouse. Creeper shook his head as he followed them, egging them all on.

“C’mon, B-Dawg, use those legs!” he called after his son with a laugh.

“Knees to chest, Brandon!” Angel joined in as he watched the three of them race up the steps of the clubhouse.

Soon enough, the three of them were all sat at one of the tables inside the clubhouse. Chucky beamed at them, “The Vargas Trio,” he brought their plates over, “I hear you’re keeping us company for the week.”

“Dad said we get to come every day,” Ava said as she shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth.

“Eat first, then talk, lil mama,” Creeper chastised her with a small smile as he shook his head.

Creeper sat at the table with them, casually drinking his beer as he watched the three of them tuck into the lunch that Chucky had made for them. He knew that Chucky loved when the kids were around—he became the ultimate chef and babysitter once those kids set foot on the property. There wasn’t a single thing that he wouldn’t do for those kids and Creeper could tell just by the way that Chucky seemed so at peace as he watched them sitting around the table together.

“What d’you guys say?” he asked them as he nodded towards Chucky.

“Thank you, Uncle Chucky,” they all said in unison.

The warmest of smiles spread across Chucky’s face as he nodded, “The pleasure is all mine.”

By late in the afternoon, the kids were finally starting to run out of steam. The girls were sprawled out on the floor of the clubhouse, art supplies strewn everywhere as they worked through entire sketchbooks’ worth of paper with Chucky. Brandon had been lurking at a safe distance as he watched some of the guys work in the scrapyard. The idea of breaking things apart was intriguing for many reasons to an eight-year-old boy, but he always listened if one of the men said to back up or not touch something. Every now and then, though, Creeper would let him take a crack at something with the hammer and the excitement on his son’s face was contagious.

The two of them walked back into the clubhouse to get a couple water bottles for themselves and the rest of the guys outside. Creeper was behind the bar, handing them over to his son while also trying to get a good look at what Alex and Ava were up to with Chucky. He smiled at the way the three of them seemed to exist so peacefully together. He hoped that the twins would always get along as well as they seemed to so far.

There was the quiet snapping sound of a pencil point breaking, followed by Alex tossing it to the side and huffing, “Fuck that.”

The entire clubhouse fell silent. Creeper’s eyes went wide as his jaw dropped slightly and Chucky looked over to him, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say or do. Creeper set one last water bottle down on the surface of the bar before addressing the issue.

“Alex? You good, babygirl?”

“It’s like the bazillionth time my pencil has broken.”

He wanted to be amused but he knew that you’d kill him for not talking about the whole language issue, “Alright. I hear you. But…but you can’t be talkin’ like that. Where’d you even hear that, anyway?”

“You,” all three of his kids replied in unison.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as he pressed his lips together into a thin line, trying to figure out what the right way to go about this was, “Look,” he waved for his son to follow him as he walked over to his daughters, “You can’t be talkin’ like that, okay? Those are grownup words. Whatever you do,” he rested his hand on her shoulder gently, “Don’t say that in front of Mommy,” he looked amongst the three of them, “And if it slips, you tell her that Uncle Angel taught you that, alright?” they all nodded and he let out a tiny sigh of relief, “Good. Okay.”

That was the last thing he said about it as he nudged Brandon’s shoulder and they went back to collect up the water bottles and bring them outside. The girls went back to their drawings and Chucky decided that there was nothing left to do but follow suit.

“Uncle Chucky?” Alex asked without looking up from her paper.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Why don’t you talk like they do?” she continued to fill in the cartoon coloring page, “Daddy says they’re grownup words but I never hear you saying them.”

“Speaking like a grownup doesn’t interest me in the slightest,” he smiled at her before returning to his own paper.

It was a week filled with antics. The clubhouse was covered in coloring pages of every cartoon and Disney character you could possibly think of. All of the guys had gotten their nails painted by the twins at least once. Brandon got his own Romero Brothers work-shirt and now he never wanted to take it off. Every single member of the MC was tired in a way they never remembered being tired before. Nap time was something that everyone partook in, even the adults, because they all needed the rest.

You took a half day on Friday so you could spend some time with all of them at the clubhouse. You liked seeing the kids running around having a good time with the guys, and truthfully you missed the nights you’d stay late with Creeper there. Late-night partying hadn’t been something the two of you had done in a long time, but none of that compared to the sense of joy you felt as you heard your daughters very intensely explaining the entire plot of both Frozen movies to EZ, who sat and nodded along, a very serious look on his face.

You smiled, making your rounds to say hello to the guys before you made your way over to Creeper who was sitting at the bar. He smiled, standing up to place a kiss to your lips and then to your belly before offering you his seat. You took it without hesitation, always happy to be off your feet for a few minutes.

“How’s the week been?” you asked as you glanced around the clubhouse.

He nodded, “Good. The guys will be sleeping for a week straight once the kids go back to school,” he laughed.

You smiled, nodding, “I bet.”

“It’s been nice having them here. Keeps things from getting to serious.”

“Yea,” you chuckled, “I’d imagine that it’s a bit harder to have a serious argument when all of your tables are covered in drawings of Olaf and Moana, and everyone’s nails are painted hot pink.”

“I kinda like it,” he held his hand out for you to inspect, “But I think purple is more my color.”

You laugh, nodding, “Oh, for sure, baby.”

The two of you were chatting when all of a sudden you heard a series of thuds, followed by Ava softly, but very clearly, saying, “Fuck,” as she rubbed her skinned knee.

You looked over at your husband, staring daggers, “Neron, I swear to god if—”

“It wasn’t me, mama, I swear,” he held his hands up in surrender.

With a sigh you rose up from the stool and made your way over to your daughter. You looked at her knee—it was scraped but it wasn’t bleeding. She also wasn’t crying which was a good sign. You asked if she was alright and when she said yes, you asked your follow-up question, “Where’d you hear that word, sweetie? Because those aren’t words that you should be using.”

Creeper held his breath as he waited for her to respond. Ava looked at you, and with no hesitation she responded, “Uncle Angel.”

You whipped your head to look at the biker in question. His eyes were as wide as you’d ever seen them. He tried to sputter out a denial, some kind of defense, but he couldn’t string the words together. He couldn’t believe that he’d just been thrown under the bus like that, especially by the girl who not even an hour beforehand said that he was her favorite uncle.

Calmly, you rose to your feet and smoothed out your dress. Creeper recognized the look in your eye and he knew that Angel was in for it. He felt bad, but not bad enough to step in and tell you the truth of the matter. It was a little deal in the grand scheme of things, really.

“Baby,” Creeper called after you, “Baby I can handle—”

“It’s fine, Neron,” your tone was dangerously even, “I just wanna talk to Uncle Angel for a minute.”

He knew that that meant you did not want to talk, “Mama, really—”

“Bring the kids outside, please. We gotta start heading home anyway.”

At that point he knew that he wasn’t going to convince you. He scooped Alex in one arm and Ava in the other, “Alright, let’s go, babygirls,” he nudged Brandon gently towards the door, “C’mon, lil homie, let’s pack the car up.”

Once the clubhouse door shut behind them, you turned your full attention to Angel. You picked up a stray coloring book and rolled it the same way you would a newspaper, and smacked him with it, “Angel Reyes!”

“Ah,” he held his arms to block your swings, “Y/N, hear me out!”

“You will not,” you smacked him again, “be teaching my six-year-olds how to cuss,” you hit him with the book once more for good measure, “Got it? Pregnant or not I will beat your ass.”

He held his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay. Sorry, querida. Didn’t realize that they picked things up so quick.”

You pointed the rolled up coloring book at him accusingly, “Better start realizing it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded.

You looked at him for a few seconds before giving a nod of approval and dropping the book back onto the table, “Good. Alright then,” you stood on your tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek, “Glad we’re on the same page. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he shook his head slightly as he followed you out of the clubhouse.

He said goodbye to the three kids as they piled into the minivan before pulling Creeper to the side, “Why’d Ava snitch on me like that, bro?”

Creeper chuckled nervously, running his hand over his head, “About that. I…I might’ve told them to blame you if they slipped up in front of their mom.”

“What the fuck, Creep?”

“What? You tellin’ me you wouldn’t do the same shit?”

He paused for a moment before laughing, “Yea, probably. But still,” he gave him a light shove, “Messed up turning my own nieces and nephew against me like that.”

“Technically just turning their mom against you a little bit,” he chuckled.

“I feel like that’s worse.”

“It’s definitely worse,” Creeper clapped him on the shoulder, “Well. Better get ready. Next vacation is gonna be for the whole summer.”

Angel laughed as he hugged Creeper, “Can’t wait.”

[charminglycensored]

Porn is Other People

An Impromptu Treatise on the Ethics of Keeping Other People’s Nudes

!!! Long post incoming !!!

I feel like it’s a topic that has been talked about a lot but never really discussed in-depth, which is a shame because it’s a very ethically nebulous idea with lots of meaty moral dilemmas associated with it. We do ourselves no favors by keeping the conversation constrained to the few posts floating around telling you you’re a terrible person if you have nudes of someone you don’t associate with anymore. At the end of the day there’s no objective “right answer” for how to handle something like that, so that’s what I intend to explore here.

I’m a nude hoarder personally so I’m always careful to consider whether any that I’m holding on to are ethical or not. There’s very directly safe answers like pictures a sex worker sends you in exchange for payment. There’s also the relatively safe option of pictures sex workers post for free on social media (provided they haven’t expressed that they don’t want their pics saved), but those are also usually of lower personal value than ones sent expressly to you, so the main reason to keep them would be only if they’re of exceptional quality. There’s also the situation of a sex worker retiring and/or knowing after the fact that their content was abusive or coerced in some way. I think a situation like that is more for each person to decide how they want to respond on their own since it is still their property if they purchased content but at greater severity of abuse I lean more towards deletion. Those are the easiest questions to answer though, and things only get stickier from here. Pun intended.

Personal nudes from private individuals carry a lot more tricky edge cases than those obtained through commerce since personal relationships are far more complicated and nuanced than the professional relationship one may have with a sex worker. Obviously if anyone asks I’m happy to delete any I have saved, and you should too, but there’s also the question of when to delete even if they didn’t ask for it.

If someone leaves your life there’s several factors that go into whether I’d feel comfortable keeping their nudes like how good of terms we’re on or if they have someone in their lives voicing concern over it. I’ve had partners leave my life on good terms and ask me to delete their nudes as well as partners leaving on bad terms while making it clear they have no issue with it.

One idea that I find fascinating is the shelf life of these things, the fact of owning nudes that are old enough that the person depicted in them almost doesn’t exist at all anymore. People change and grow all the time and nude photos, like any photos, can be a vital looking glass into the people and times we used to be a part of. Sometimes the opposite is true however, and the past needs to be let go, erased completely if need be. That leads into the idea of nudes depicting people who have since died in real life but I’ll be omitting that case from this essay for you to consider yourself.

Like most of my rambling posts there is no real point I’m trying to get at here; save that the ethical ideas we sometimes take for granted often have the same deep and complex nuances that come with living in real life, and all too often go unacknowledged by the two-dimensional view of reality social media posts offer. If you’ve made it this far I encourage you to consider any nudes you have saved and the person they depict. Even if you come to the same conclusion on them that you already held, the important part is that you engaged with the idea and made a conscious decision.

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Altered Carbon- Out of the Past (1.01)

Pairing: Nova Griffiths (OC) x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Nova is contracted for a new job, she's introduced to a part of humanity's past. The job seems to be a bust, but it becomes clear that it's anything but.

Warnings: mentions of suicide!, cursing, guns, rebirthing(?), sword+knives, blood, mentions of shitty parents

Word Count: 6441

“Just…” I sighed, looking out through the droplets of rain on the windows of the bus stop, “I just want you to be safe, E.J.”

“I know. I will be, Nov. I promise.”

“Alright, good. Look, bug, I’ve gotta run.”

“New job?”

I snorted, looking at his grin on the holographic screen. “Possible new target, yeah.”

He nodded. “Promise you’ll be safe too?”

I nodded right back, a smile on my face. “Promise, E.J. Love you, bud. Talk to you later, yeah?”

Another nod. “Go.”

I sighed as I checked the time.

Shit.

I was going to be late if I didn’t haul ass. I flicked the display of the watch away and pulled my helmet on. I straddled my bike and kicked the stand up. Hopefully, this payout would be worth it.

***

“Justice! Let the dead speak! Justice! Let the dead speak!”

The chant became static as I pushed my way through the crowd, and up the steps of Alcatraz prison. Lieutenant Ortega from the local police department had reached out and told me she would give me a ride up to the Bancroft residence.

“Griffiths!”

I popped onto my toes and saw the lieutenant waving me down. A blond man stood next to her, his face angry, but eyes seeming disoriented.

“Ortega, hey.” I held a hand out for her and she gave me a firm shake. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes.”

“These people are something else. Nova Griffiths, you’ll be working with this gentleman here.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out, and he did the same.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” A man shouted over my shoulder, cutting my new partner off before he could start his sentence.

The crowd’s chant changed, “No resleeving!”

“Well shit, let’s get outta here.” I gave Ortega a grimace, letting his hand drop.

We began to push our way back through, dodging the picket signs and the face painted protestors. A man with white and black markings on his face took a step towards us and pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backwards, and my partner reached out, preventing me from falling off my feet.

“You will not be forgiven!” The protester spat in his face.

I used the existing grip on my arm to pull myself back in front of him. I spat in the protester’s face and shook my partner’s grip loose.

“Well, that’s gonna keep him busy a while.” My partner guided me to walk in front of him as we continued to push through the crowd.

***

“Spirit savers and Afterlifers. 653 failed, and still they can’t stop yelling.” Ortega spoke.

“What is 653?” He asked, looking up from the paper.

“Something about spinning up murder victims to testify who killed them.” I kept my eyes on my feet, feeling nauseous.

“Why wouldn’t you spin them up if they’re witnesses to their own murder?”

“Archdiocese says you only get the sleeve you’re born with. Once it dies, they spin you back up for anything, even to identify your killer, your soul goes to hell.” Ortega looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think no one in the archdiocese has ever been murdered.” He looked out the window, and then to me. “Nova?”

I snorted, finally looking up. “I think they’re all full of shit.”

He fell quiet as he observed the city. I studied his silhouette as he stared. The sleeve was handsome. Strong features, a strong jawline, a deep voice. Light colored eyes and swept-over hair.

“So what were you in for?” I asked, trying to get a sense of why he was so silent.

“Ah, little bit of this, little bit of that. Blew some shit up and killed some people.” He caught a look from Ortega in the rearview. “Some people just need killing.” He grinned.

I felt a grin rise on my own face, but Ortega didn’t seem to share the amusement.

“And how do you decide who deserves to die?”

My partner shook his head with a small sigh. “Depends on the day. I mean, anything can set me off. Interstellar dictatorship, genocide, people who talk to much.” He looked over at her for the last part before letting out another sigh.

I giggled, and Ortega shot me a look.

“Right now I’m feeling pretty hostile towards Laurens Bancroft, whoever the fuck he is.” He pulled something from his pants pocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Bancroft, he’s one of the first founding Meths.”

“What’s a Meth?”

“You don’t know what a Meth is? How can you not know?” Ortega chuckled. “You're dressed like one.”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here.” His demeanor changed.

I eyed him. He was fidgeting with his hands. Ortega went on, reciting something from the beliefs of the Meths. I decided to unbuckle myself and slide into the middle seat. He took notice and looked down at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“How long have you been under?”

He looked away, sighing again.

“How long, man?” I whispered again.

“Two hundred fifty years.” He didn’t look my way again.

“Shit.”

We busted through the clouds, and I slid forward, still unbuckled. He caught me by the hood of my jacket before grabbing my upper arm, pulling me back into my seat. I swallowed my pride and buckled back up.

“They call it the Aerium.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Guess they don’t have this where you come from either, huh?” Ortega gave a teasing smile.

She guided the car to hover over the property as we sat in silence. He readjusted himself back in his seat, and Ortega seized the silence once more.

“So, where were you born? Home planet, that kinda thing.”

“Not here.” He was dead-pan.

“That’s a little vague.” Ortega chuckled.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s my abuela. She always said, Kristin, you can find a way to talk to anybody.”

“Especially when they’re trapped in a car with you.” He shot back.

She looked forward with a sigh, and I stifled another giggle.

“Our quick and messy little lives are so small to them. They build their homes up here so the clutter of our existence is out of their sight.”

We only shared a look in the backseat.

***

The landing of the hover-car was rough, accompanied by various quick remarks.

“Come on, last chance. Just give me a name.”

“Takeshi Kovacs.” He got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. “Look me up.”

Ortega immediately did so while I scrambled out of the car after him.

“Holy shit. Is that why…”

Kovacs glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“You can’t be who you say you are. All the Envoys died.” Ortega tried to catch up with us as she shouted.

“All except one.” Kovacs caught me by the arm, pulling me to stand behind him.

I peered around his frame, only to see Bancroft’s multiple goons with their guns pointed toward us.

“Not another step, Ortega.”

“Aw come on. I’m Bay City PD and you know it, Curtis.” Ortega continued to walk toward them. “So lower your weapons and tell me where your boss is, because I really would like a fucking word.”

“Lieutenant Ortega, you’re trespassing on private property. Apparently, you’ve stolen one of our limos as well. I could have you shot.”

Ortega snorted. “Yeah, go ahead. Try.”

A police vehicle landed to our left, and Kovacs covered me a bit more with his own body.

“Why did you drive the Envoy? Isaac was supposed to do that.”

The police car door opened, and a man in a suit dragged a boy out.

“Look, I’m not drunk, okay? I was just loosening up a little. Let go of me.”

“We picked him up on a DUI.” The man explained to Mrs. Bancroft.

“Which is how we came into possession of your vehicle.” Ortega explained.

Mrs. Bancroft whispered something back and forth to, presumably, her son. She turned back to face us. “This is police harassment.”

“Yeah.” Ortega scoffed again. “There’s your kid, there’s your car, here’s your mercenary, and there’s your… new pet terrorist.” She gestured towards Kovacs, annoyed. “You’re welcome.”

“Bounty hunter, not a mercenary.” I scowled.

She walked past us, and Kovacs scoffed this time. “The terrorist can hear you. I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good. Cause we’re not done, you and me.” Ortega snapped at him before getting into the police car. I inched my way out from behind Kovacs until I was standing next to him.

Mrs. Bancroft chuckled as she walked toward us. “Forgive me. I’m Miriam Bancroft. We’ve not been properly introduced.”

She gave Kovacs a weak handshake, followed by a snake-like smile my way.

“Welcome to Suntouch House.” She turned on her heel, and we followed.

***

“Shouldn’t that be in a museum?” Kovacs asked as we walked under the branches of a large tree.”

“I have a weakness for Elder civilization artifacts. I collect them, among other things.”

“This must’ve cost a fortune to ship here.”

She hummed as Kovacs reached for one of the lower-hanging tendrils.

“A few lifetimes, as well. But cost was no object. This is the only Songspire tree on Earth. No one really knows what they are. They could’ve functioned as part of Elder civilization architecture. The largest ones ever recorded are thousands of meters high.”

The look on Kovacs’ face was one of recognition. “I know. I’ve seen them.”

“Stronghold. Of course.” She nodded. “Laurens is in his study. I’ll show you up.”

As if voice-activated, the elevator doors to her right slid open. Kovacs and I eyed each other before following her into the small room. Something felt off. We stayed silent as the elevator began to ascend. I kept myself tucked in between him and the corner, and Miriam stood opposite of him. She continued to eye him before beginning to play with her necklace. The metallic clicking caught his attention, and he looked up.

“Is it true you can look into a person’s eyes and know exactly what they’re thinking?”

Kovacs hummed. “No, Envoys don’t read minds.”

“What a pity.” She smiled.

Kovacs seemed uncomfortable, and the elevator dinged before anyone could say anything else.

“Good luck, Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths.”

Kovacs gestured for me to exit first, and he followed close behind. We let out simultaneous sighs as we heard the doors close again. We began to walk down the long hallway, trying to keep pace with each other. The study was silent when we walked into it, and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms Griffiths.”

We looked up to see Bancroft on the balcony of his study, drink in hand. “My apologies, my son failed to drive you here. You have to forgive my endlessly misplaced optimism.”

“That’s alright.” Kovacs looked back around the study. “The ride was very instructive.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure it was. Details are, after all, an Envoy’s stock-in-trade.” He began to walk down to the level we were on. “Or were, I guess I should say. Immersion and total absorb. Wasn’t that the term, hmm? Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking.”

“You’ve read Falconer.” Kovacs finally spoke, eyes on me as I kept my own on him.

“I was alive during the uprising, yeah.”

“Yeah?” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “So was I.”

“Oh, y-yes, my apologies. It’s all in the distant past for me, but for you, of course, it’s all rather different. There are very few of us now, who saw firsthand what the Envoys could do. Ah-ha. Yes. A-And I have to admit that I had a grudging admiration for you. Trained by Quell herself to be the most formidable fighting force that the galaxy had ever seen.”

“Well, that would sound better if we hadn’t lost.” Kovacs quipped.

“Although this might, might interest you.” Bancroft handed Kovacs a small leather-bound booklet. “Oh, it’s all corneal streaming now. There’s something about the simplicity of holding the written word in your hand. The very-very heft of it. As men have done for countless centuries before us.”

Kovacs seemed to leave the current plane of existence as he flipped through the book, fingers gingerly running over the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it at an auction. Supposedly, it is written by Falconer in her own hand. Judging by your reaction, it appears I might have got what I paid for.”

Kovacs snapped out of it, bundling the book back up and clearing his throat.

“Listen to me. I spent this entire morning being well and truly fucked around with, so, uh, let me be painfully clear. Some things can’t be bought. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here,” he glanced down at me, “but I, for one, cannot. Now, I didn’t ask you to bring me back into this world. In fact, I fought a war to stop people like you from happening.” Kovacs began to step closer to Bancroft. “So, if someone doesn’t tell me right now what the fuck this is all about… I might very well lose my temper.” He smacked the booklet into Bancroft’s chest, and I felt my cheeks begin to grow flush.

“Understood. Now, this is a full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate.”

Kovacs only gave a look of disbelief. “Power is a matter of influence, Mr. Kovacs. And I have had a great deal of influence at the UN. If you agree to my terms, your sentence will be reduced to time served. And then I will open up a very generous line of credit in your name. DNA trace accessible. And when the investigation is over, you may keep this sleeve or choose another. To your own specifications.”

Kovacs said nothing, and I hung back. Bancroft turned to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ms. Griffiths. Your parents will be pardoned as well.”

My heart immediately felt like it was going to blow a hole through my chest.

“Finally, I will pay you both a salary of 50 million UN credits. That’s a fortune. You can have any future you want.”

Blood kept rushing to my head, and my ears felt red hot. My vision blurred, and my body began to shake. I felt ready to pass out. Bancroft began to speak again, walking away this time. Kovacs gently put a hand on my waist and guided me to follow, sensing the loss of equilibrium within my body.

“All I ask is that you solve a murder.” Bancroft pulled a white sheet off a wall.

“Whose?” Kovacs stopped us both in front of the blood-splattered wall.

“Mine.”

“This is where I died. When Miriam found me, my head had been vaporized.”

Kovacs’ hold on me had grounded me enough for him to let go. He began to pace the room, and I looked over the brains on the wall.

“It’s an energy weapon?” Kovacs asked.

“Yes. A particle blaster. I keep one for personal protection in a biometric safe that only Miriam and I can open.”

Kovacs and I immediately shared a look, and Bancroft caught on. “Go ahead. Say it. Everyone else has. Either I committed suicide, or my wife murdered me.”

“But you’re still here, meaning your stack is intact, so… you must remember what happened.” The light hit Kovacs in a new way, and I noticed the scar on his sleeve’s eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it’s completely destroyed. RD’d, as they say.”

“So how?”

“Full-spectrum DHF remote storage backup?” I asked.

Bancroft nodded and Kovacs looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Do you know what that is?” Bancroft asked him.

“Yeah. Just never met anyone filthy rich enough to afford it.” Kovacs scoffed.

Bancroft seemed like his pride was hurt, but he shrugged it off. “Well. I need to show you two something.”

He led us up the stairs to where he had been lurking when we arrived. Kovacs and I shared a look as we followed. I had to double my pace to keep up with Kovacs, who was more likely than not over a foot taller than me.

“Sometimes I come up here when I have decisions to make or difficulties to face.” Bancroft began. “I think about the ancient explorers, back when one could spend a lifetime pursuing the possibilities of the Earth, the oceans, the stars.”

My eyes flickered around the maps and old news articles framed up on the walls. Humanity had landed on the moon for the first time over 400 years ago. These artifacts must’ve cost fortunes.

Bancroft sighed. “I was born in London. When I first moved to what was then, of course, known as the United States, it still had the faintest echoes of the new and brash culture that it once was.”

I glanced over at Kovacs, who was tinkering with something on one of the multiple desks. Bancroft said something about the age of adventurers, and I heard the beeping of a screen. I pulled my eyes from Kovacs and followed his line of sight. A telescope spun our way, and Bancroft gestured toward it.

“Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Kovacs and I shared another look, and he sensed my hesitation. He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back before taking a step forward, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s a Protectorate satellite. Military grade.”

Bancroft hummed. “It is military grade, but it’s not the Protectorates. It’s mine.”

Kovacs’ face took on an unreadable expression as he straightened up, making a subtle effort to keep himself between Bancroft and I.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Every forty-eight hours, my stack is automatically needle cast to it.”

“So your current self has no memory of what happened?” I peeped up from behind the six-something, two hundred-something slab of muscle in front of me.

“No, whoever killed me pulled the trigger ten minutes before my backup went through.”

“Which means all of your memories from those forty-eight hours are gone.”

“Completely. There was an attempted hack on my satellite feed moments after my death. Somebody wants me dead.”

Kovacs peeked back at me over his shoulder. This time, I understood the look in his eyes. Who wouldn’t?

Kovacs took a breath before beginning to slowly circle Bancroft. “For all we know, you did try to kill yourself.”

“You just botched the job.” I deadpanned.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths, I am not the kind of man who would take his own life. And even if I were,” his eyes turned toward me with a menacing glaze over them, “I’d not have bungled it in such a fashion.”

Kovacs noticed and, once more, took a step in front of me.

“If I’d meant to die, I’d indeed be dead.”

Kovacs chuckled. “I don’t want your money. Or your pardon. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here, but I’ll take eternity on ice. Thanks.” He turned on his heel, and I scurried to stay at his side.

If he was out, then so was I. I didn’t trust Bancroft and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be stuck in this alone.

“You should take the day, Mr. Kovacs. Go into the city, remember what it is to feel alive. And then, give me your answer. O-oh, and please do take the book. Like everything else I’m offering you, it’s yours if you want it.”

Kovacs looked down at me, and I nodded up at him. Without another word, we made our way out of his study and, with the luck of Miriam not being around, out of the house.

***

In the car, Kovacs stared at his hands. He was beyond deep in thought. It seemed like a flashback that he was struggling to fight his way out of. He was adamant in his decision to be put back under. The driver was going to drop me off on main street in Bay City. I was going to see E.J. for the first time in almost a year. Kovacs would, as Bancroft had suggested, take a night in the city. After that, he would return to Alcatraz, and I would never see him again.

“Ms. Griffiths.” The driver caught my attention.

I looked up, seeing that we were pulled over on the main road. I blinked, and looked up at Kovacs.

“Guess this is goodbye?” I grinned.

He chuckled, but his own grin fell and he shook his head. “Don’t get involved with Bancroft again. I’ve been around long enough, and people like him don’t change.”

I nodded, watching his eyes as they deepened while he thought. “I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”

He met my eyes, and his grin returned. “Stay safe, kid. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep it.”

I nodded. “I will. Be safe, Kovacs.”

“Takeshi.” He spoke as I opened my door, ready to get out.

“What?” I looked back.

“Call me Takeshi.”

I smiled, knowing I’d never see him again and that it wouldn’t matter what I called him.

“Goodbye, Takeshi.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

***

I ran through the rain, dodging the group of teenagers doing the same. I shouldered the metal door open and ducked in, out of the weather. The air inside was stale and there were cobwebs in each corner of the lobby. After it had begun to pour, E.J. had called and asked me to meet him here. It looked like the hotel hadn’t been touched in a few years, give or take. More likely give.

“Eli?” I called out, clutching my bag over my shoulder.

“Ms. Griffiths, welcome.”

“Holy shit, it’s still you?” I turned to Poe, the AI that ran the place.

“It’s not like anyone stays here anymore. No need for an upgrade.”

I turned on my heel and saw E.J. sitting at the bar, drink in hand.

“Dude, you are nineteen, put that shit down.” I made my way over to him, stealing the glass of liquor and downing it. “Poe, stop giving my little brother alcohol.”

“He’s a paying customer, Ms. Griffiths.”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. E.J. stood from his seat and embraced the hug, rocking me back and forth from side to side. We had stayed at the Ravel Hotel on one occasion, for two months straight. Our parents were off-planet for a racing event, and they had left us with our uncle. He died in a gang-related shootout two days into our parents’ trip. After a week on the streets, we found our way into The Raven. We had gotten in contact with our dad, and he sent the money to Poe.

“How’ve you been?”

I sighed as he finally let go of me. “It’s been kind of crazy.” I sat down next to him.

“Tell me about it?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yes, Ms. Griffiths?”

“Nova.” I corrected him. “You’ve known me since I was 12, you can call me by my first name. Can I get a-”

“White Russian, White Russian!” E.J. shouted.

“Eli, stop.” I giggled before looking back at Poe. “Fine. Two White Russians please.” I grinned.

I held my finger to the pay-spot on the bar, pulling it away once it clicked. Poe shuffled our drinks out, and I handed one off to E.J. The door opened, and Poe fluttered over to the front desk. E.J. and I didn’t bother looking over. Probably just some sick freak who needed to get his rocks off. He grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rolled my eyes as he held the pack out to me.

“You can’t say shit, I’m 19.”

“Stop being cocky.” I pulled one between my lips and held it up to the lighter he held in his hands.

“Never.” He grinned again as he took a drag of his own cigarette. “So. Who’s the target?”

I scowled. “It fell through.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose a target? What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned in. “You know Bancroft?”

E.J. snorted, blowing his cigarette smoke in the other direction. “The fucker who thinks he’s god?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Made this whole big deal about how his last sleeve got his brains blown out but his stack stayed intact.”

“Sounds like he just fucked the job up.”

I grinned. “Exactly what I said. So we split.”

“We?” He repeated, again raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you play well with others?”

“Shut up.” I shoved his shoulder. “It was gonna be a special case. Turns out god is just a fucking moron.”

The door opened again, and this time we looked up. There was no way that many people were just coincidentally here. I immediately rose and pulled E.J. along with me as four men and one woman, all with guns, barged in. I looked toward their intended target.

Takeshi?

“He won’t be needing a room. So much for Envoy Intuition. Voodoo bullshit.”

“Envoy?” E.J. hissed at me as I pulled him to duck behind the bar.

“Just shut up. Do you have anything on you?”

“What?”

“Weapons, Eli.” I hissed back.

He patted himself down, and I pulled my blade from my bag and flicked it open. It was the only good thing my father had left me with. A dagger that transformed into a sword with the flick of a wrist. Eli twisted a silencer onto his gun and matched my position.

“Pardon me, wayfarer, we’re in the midst of conversation.” I heard Poe.

“Shut up, you piece of digibrain shit. My microwave is smarter than you.” The man with his gun on Takeshi’s neck snarled.

“I just want one thing to go right today.” I heard Takeshi’s gruff voice.

“Clearly.” Poe sighed.

“Too bad.”

I began to creep up from my toes, onto my knees. Takeshi turned to face the first man, holding his hands behind his back.

“They said you’d be dangerous. I thought you’d be bigger. They made me bring all this backup. What a waste of my time. I don’t need them.”

By now, I was on my haunches, peering up over the counter of the bar. Poe made eye contact with me and gave the slightest shake of his head. Although he was just a bundle of code, Poe had become more human than some people. He cared about E.J. and I, in his own strange, AI way.

“Fuck you, Dimi.” One of the men hissed, only to earn a bullet to the head.

Dimi? I had to take this fucker down for sure. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“I have to clean that up.” Poe sighed.

“What?” Dimi growled.

“Uh, he had it coming.” Takeshi nodded. “He was rude.”

E.J. had made his way up next to me, gun held tightly. Poe shook his head at us once more.

“I could take you myself without even breaking a sweat.” Dimi got in Takeshi’s face. “Move.”

He shoved Takeshi to the middle of the group, which meant that they all now had their backs to us. Takeshi caught my eye over the counter, and his eyes widened. I gave him a cocky grin, and E.J. looked between the two of us, confused.

“Good sir, I cannot assume host prerogatives without payment.” Poe urged Takeshi.

“You want to get him a hot towel?” Dimi taunted. “You’re some kind of moron, staying in an AI hotel. Possessive like a crazy girlfriend. No one stays in them anymore.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Dimi hit the top of Takeshi’s spine with his gun, and the Envoy crashed to the ground with a grunt. I made my choice. I tapped Eli’s gun and pointed my sword toward the woman, who was the closest to us.

“For guest amenities, please, touch the screen.”

Dimi hit Takeshi in the face this time, sending him sprawled onto his back. Eli and I stood slowly, boots silent against the wooden floor. He was taller, and by now, far stronger. We nodded at each other, and he clapped a hand over her mouth. I knocked her gun out of her hand with my sword, catching it in my hand before it could clatter to the floor. The others were too distracted with beating Takeshi up to notice.

Poe’s cold eyes flickered between Takeshi getting his shit rocked and us. The woman struggled, and I made another quick decision. I cut her throat, and Takeshi began to speak at the same time, covering the gurgling sound. E.J. grabbed her now limp sleeve and dragged her to the side.

“It’s not voodoo, which, by the way, absolutely is bullshit. It’s a form of subliminal pattern recognition.” Takeshi began to explain, keeping his eyes ahead as he crawled back toward Poe.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dimi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, putting his gun to Takeshi’s face.

As Dimi continued to threaten Takeshi’s sleeve, if not his stack, E.J. and I continued our quiet routine. Another man down, another sleeve thrown aside.

“You know, it’s about the details.”

Another hit, Takeshi landing back onto the coffee table. I flinched, surprised it hadn’t broken under his weight.

“Where’s the big bad boy Envoy killer from the past?” Dimi shouted.

“Twenty seconds.” Poe reminded him.

I grimaced. I couldn’t make my way to the front desk and do it for him without being noticed.

“Fight, goddamn it! What, you lost your balls? Did something change while you were down?”

Takeshi got back to his feet, staging himself between the back desk and Dimi. “Nothing changed.”

Two kicks to the stomach. I had enough. I looked at Eli and gave him a nod.

“People like you are still stupid.” Takeshi ended up at the front desk, finger in the right place.

E.J. took his first shot, and Dimi turned at the small noise. I thrusted my sword through another man’s chest. Poe lowered the machine guns from the ceiling, and I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a column to keep myself safe. I watched as E.J. did the same. Poe cocked a shotgun and began to shoot people down, and Takeshi began to pummel Dimi.

One of Dimi’s people tried to back behind a column, having the same idea we had. I counted the rounds that Poe’s machine guns fired, finding the right timing. I ran from the safety of my cover and plunged my sword into the man’s chest, dropping his sleeve down into the open fire. The men dropped like flies, and I kept my eyes on Takeshi. He round-house kicked Dimi in the stomach, and I swallowed hard. It was rather difficult to deny just how attracted to him I was becoming.

“Nova!”

I turned toward E.J.’s voice, only to see a man much bigger than me coming my way, a knife in his hand. I struggled to scramble to my feet, slipping in the blood of the sleeves I had killed. I fell flat onto my back and held my sword up, hoping I had enough coordination to shield myself from his knife.

There was the sound of Poe’s shotgun, and the men fell down on top of me. I groaned as I felt his knife slice through the skin of my thigh. The only person left was Dimi. Takeshi had him cornered against a sofa, fist raised.

“Who sent you?”

Dimi laughed, and I coughed, spitting blood aside as E.J. came running, pulling the sleeve off of me. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away, and I struggled to stay awake. E.J. pulled me up to sit, letting my back rest against a column. I watched from behind heavy eyelids as Takeshi put Dimi in a chokehold.

“Who sent you?”

He squirmed his way free, putting himself in the direct way of the machine guns. Takeshi urged Poe to hold back, but Poe didn’t listen. Dimi went down, and Takeshi sighed heavily.

“Ask this of your microwave, miscreant.”

Poe became quiet once he sensed that he had done something Takeshi didn’t like. “Apologies. Your room beckons.”

“Bite this.” E.J. shoved his leather belt between my teeth and didn’t give me time to react before pulling the knife from my leg.

I couldn’t help the scream that tore through my throat. Takeshi’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to our sides, hand immediately coming to my shoulder. He ripped a sleeve off and immediately began to tie it around my wound, flinching when I did.

“Nova, what happened? Are you okay?”

I coughed, and blood speckled onto his white button-up. E.J. brushed my hair out of my face and I winced.

“Sorry, Takeshi.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fucker nailed me when he dropped.” I pushed out, feeling light-headed once more.

“I can stitch her up.” E.J. grabbed my hand, squeezing it to try and keep me awake.

“No.” I hissed.

E.J. knew what he was doing, but it always hurt like a bitch. Takeshi looked me over and sighed, pulling me off the column so that he could hoist me into his arms.

“I’ll help you hold her down.” He adjusted me bridal-style and stood.

“God, fuck you both.” My voice was scratchy, and the lights began to look spotty.

“Just rest, Nov. We’ve got you.” Eli whispered, and I let the darkness consume me as my sleeve went heavy in Takeshi’s arms.

***

“What happened to a meal, getting laid, and restacking forever?”

I looked up from my plate to see Ortega walking over to us, hands on her hips. Takeshi took a drag of his cigarette before looking her way.

“I got interrupted.” He downed a shot.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“I don’t know.” Takeshi shrugged. “But they knew me.”

“Di-”

“They called you by name? Are you sure?” Ortega cut me off and I sighed, going back to pushing around the pasta on my plate.

“Eat.” Eli urged me.

I sighed again. “I really don’t want to.”

“Kristin!” The man Takeshi and I had seen drop off Bancroft’s son was there, working on the scene. “Four of them are just local muscle, but this sleeve is registered to Dimitri Kadmin. Ulan Bator registry.” He showed Ortega the tablet in his hands.

Ortega punched his arm, excited. “We got him.”

“Got who?” Takeshi looked over at me.

“Dimitri Kadmin, hitman out of Vladivostok.” I cut Ortega off this time. “Otherwise known as Dimi the Twin. Does a lot of work for the yakuza. Bastard doesn’t trust anyone, so he double-sleeves.”

“Isn’t the penalty real death?” E.J. asked.

Ortega’s partner nodded. “We hold onto his stack, and sooner or later we catch the other version of him out there, and then he’s done.”

Ortega let out a string of curses, and her partner looked her way. “What, what’s going on?”

“Stack is fragged. Not enough left to spin him up to interrogate. Fuck.”

“You couldn’t just disable them?” Ortega hissed at Poe.

“I was coming to the defense of my first guest in about a decade.” Poe took a shot of his own.

“With enough firepower to bring down an airplane.” Ortega spat back.

“Hey, Poe is fully licensed for customer protection. You know that. Not to mention, I got fucking knived.”

“You’ve shot people for less.” Her partner reminded her, and she brushed him off.

“So, Dimitri’s a high-end hitman?” Takeshi spoke up.

“Yeah, top of the line.” Ortega scowled.

“Then Bancroft’s death wasn’t a suicide.”

“Of course. Because who would wanna kill an asshole like you?” Ortega’s partner scoffed.

“Plenty of people. A few centuries ago.” Takeshi lit another cigarette.

Resleeved in the body of a hard-core nicotine addict was how he had put it.

“Kovacs doesn’t merit this kind of hit unless they wanna stop him from looking into Bancroft’s death.” I put together what Takeshi himself had been getting at.

“Instead of blaming us, how about you apply your impressive policing skills.” Takeshi scoffed at them.

“Less than eight hours out of the tank, and you’re already up to your eyes in organic damage and real death.”

Takeshi grabbed his unicorn backpack, which I had learned an hour ago was full of illegal street drugs, kissed the top of it, and slung it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for me, and I looked between him and E.J. My little brother nodded at me, and I took Takeshi’s hand, letting him help me off the stool.

“I could find a way to arrest you two for this.” Ortega threatened.

“Yeah?” Takeshi taunted as he led us past them. “You make up your mind, we’ll be upstairs.” He helped me stay steady as we wove through the sleeves strung on the floor.

Ortega tried to come after us, and her partner grabbed her, pulling her back and telling us to leave it. My foot slipped over a piece of glass, and I winced, grip on Takeshi’s hand tightening.

“Here.” He held my hand with one of his and grabbed my waist with the other, letting my weight rest against his side.

I felt like I was going to faint as his muscles moved under his shirt, rubbing against my own body. He hit the button to our floor and closed his eyes. I felt his body relax, but his grip on my waist stayed firm.

“Takeshi?” I whispered, looking up.

He met my gaze.

“I need to take the case. These people know who I am. I can't put my brother at risk like that.”

He only nodded and looked forward once more. His eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed to be absorbed into another flashback, like he had been in the car after we met Bancroft. It seemed to entrap him even as he led me to my room. He was fighting hard, his fingers beginning to bunch up the material of my shirt. I said nothing, returning the reassuring hand on his back. He helped me get to my bed, and, without a word, tears forming in his hazel-green eyes, turned and walked out of the room.

I laid on my back and sighed. This man was torn apart beyond belief, but he was a force to be reckoned with. This would be, by far, the most intense job I had ever and would ever work.

[astralfire-xiv]

Valorant OC week Day 2: Training

Sova and Viper are at the range and notice Zero is struggling with her cybernetics. Sova joins Viper, who is looking at Zero a little too obviously and surprises her a little by sneaking up on her. She tells him not to do that again, ever, and then he asks her what’s on her mind. Viper talks about how she’s intrigued by Zero’s abilities and that they remind her of something. Sova, quick-witted as always, draws similarities between Chamber’s Headhunter/TDF and Zero’s Gun Roulette.

bit of Sova and Viper banter, too, so enjoy :O

Sova kneaded his eyebrows together as he brought his hand to his chin, deep in thought. He could see what Viper was getting at. Though not obvious at first glance, the parallels were incalculable the more he thought about it. “You’re thinking of Chamber, aren’t you?”

“Sharp as always.” Viper huffed with a small smirk playing at her lips. She knew all too well nothing went past the hunter unnoticed but it never failed to amuse her just how broad his knowledge truly was.

“In a way, yes. They’re similar.” Viper concluded, her eyes on Zero’s figure in the distance. She was frantically typing on her screens but that wasn’t what Viper was looking at. Sova saw it too. Her nails were emitting a soft blue hue that was reminiscent of a flickering lightbulb. It was causing the engineer some degree of distress judging from the look on her face.

“They’re both able to tap into a hypothetical pocket dimension where they can draw on stored matter with their neural implants. But where Chamber’s guns are tangible, even to us, Zero’s are not. Only she’s able to wield them.” Viper mentioned the moment Zero constructed a phantom. Sova narrowed his eyes, looking for a point of reference. As Zero tilted the gun to inspect it, the hunter noticed how the light passed through the surface of the weapon from some angles, as if it was translucent. After just a couple of seconds, he noticed how the previously sharp edges were suddenly jagged and dented, as if the gun was corroding.

No, disintegrating was a better choice of words here. The blueish particles the hard light gun emitted shimmered brightly under the white lights of the training area. Clearly not satisfied with the result, the entrepreneur dematerialised the gun in the blink of an eye, leaving only the glitter-like dust to slowly fade away and disappear.

“Those particles have something to do with it. Whenever she channels her abilities, that’s when they’re visible to the naked eye.” Sova brought up as he turned to face Viper again, who looked at him, arms crossed.

With a curt nod, she affirmed his hypothesis. “I’m impressed, Sova. It’s actually much more than that. They’re the reason she’s able to construct things out of thin air. To simplify, those particles can be compressed and woven into shapes. Though unstable, her implants can suppress the natural vibrations of the particles by binding them for a short amount of time. It’s because of that, it takes a shape that even we can see.

But because of their natural properties and because those particles shouldn’t even exist in our world, they will fall apart and disintegrate after a while. Reduced to zero.” Though the reference to computer code and mathematics was obvious, Viper was convinced Zero’s moniker referred to much more than that. Having known the programmer for a long time, Viper knew quite a bit about Zero’s personal rhetoric and it was because of that, she was quite sure her codename referred to the concept of nothingness rather than the numerical zero.

To create objects ex nihilo, what a fitting power for someone donning a null as their trademark.

The shift in Sova’s posture reminded her of their conversation and Viper relentlessly continued her lengthy hypothesis. He was a nice person to talk to, she reckoned. Agreeable but not afraid to pitch ideas and thoughts.

“If I had to guess, Zero’s abilities are, in essence, a bad rip off of Chamber’s and the sole reason for that is because she doesn’t have the same knowledge about pocket dimensions as he does. Zero’s knowledge about mirror earth and other dimensions is limited and I’m willing to bet that she doesn’t know much more than we do.” a small nod in agreement. Most of what Viper was getting at was outside of his expertise but he trusted her judgment more than anything when it came to things like these. She didn’t like to make baseless assumptions. Sova knew how tirelessly Viper sought for answers and how she wouldn’t rest until she found what she was looking for. In a way, she reminded him of Cypher. It was probably because of that, they gravitated towards each other when it came to the protocol’s intelligence.

“But what amazes me is…” When Viper continued her ramblings, Sova’s ears perked up, curious to hear the researcher’s thoughts. ”How she made up for her lack of understanding by engineering a system that can tap into the power of the literal excretory product of radianite. She’s able to borrow power from a pocket dimension that she doesn’t have access to by deconstructing and reconstructing the microparticles they leave behind in the fabric of our world. I don’t know how she managed to accomplish such a feat but that would mean that, in essence, she’s able to create any object on a whim, not taking into account the limitations that this technology has. It’s fascinating and I want to know more about it.”

The moment she spoke her last sentence, a silence filled the room. It would have been awkward if it was any other person than Sova but instead of feeling the cold touch of discomfort, a warm and blissful quiet embraced her when she gazed upon his sheepish but humble smile. It was as if all the weight that was on her shoulders, faded in just a couple of seconds.

Unlike fellow scientists, he didn’t bother her with excessive what-ifs and endless questions about her reasoning and unlike their colloquial colleagues, he didn’t look at her with confusion in his eyes whenever she spoke for too long. Though he might not understand the finer details of her hypothesis, he cherry picked his questions to tailor to his level of knowledge so that he could understand the essence of what she was talking about without interfering with her explanation.

And that alone-

Was a very impressive skill.

Behind her cold facade, Viper smiled. hidden away from the owl’s ever so sharp eyes. She looked at him to see what he was thinking about just now but his face was ever so illegible. It's too bad she was never good at reading people’s expressions.

She turned on her heels, ready to say her goodbyes to Sova when the archer stopped her dead in her tracks with his words. “That spark in your eyes just now, Viper. I’m sure that’s why younger agents like Killjoy are drawn to you despite your cold demeanor towards them.”

All he got from her in return was a sharp chuckle. Sova tilted his head, wondering if he’d offended her but, in reality, he didn’t really care. He was mostly interested in Viper’s reaction to the obvious since he was sure she’d actually listen to him and not dismiss him outright.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because of Killjoy’s insatiable hunger for scientific knowledge that she’s following me around like a puppy sometimes.” Viper simply said, trying to shrug off his comment with a clever comeback.

Not wanting to get on Viper’s bad side, Sova nodded. “If that’s what you believe, I’ll leave it at that. Just know I wasn’t just talking about Killjoy.” He prompted, leaving the rest up to Viper to figure out.

Viper wasn’t going to hear him out and instead chose to walk towards the exit. But before she left for her lab, she stopped herself once more to say her final words. “You know Sova… A long time ago, I’d persuade you to pursue a career in applied mathematics. A keen eye is hard to find and even harder to master. But you’re better suited here, where your skills are not wasted on books and endless paperwork. Brimstone made the right call by recruiting you. Not that I ever doubted his decision.”

“I will treasure those words. Simply because it was you who said them to me.”

And with that, the automatic doors of the training area closed again and the archer had already taken his position, bow in hand, ready to strike.

[flightfoot]

Forgetting Enemies, Rediscovering Friends - Ch. 1

AO3

Thanks to @khanofallorcs for betaing! Set in @buggachat Bakery Enemies AU, before the wine arc.

The morning had started off fine. Marinette had been working on a new design to showcase her talents. A black dress with green trim—great for any occasion.

(Only the most keen-eyed observers would find the small paw print embroidered on the inside of one of the sleeves)

Adrien was hard at work in the kitchen, as usual. Probably plotting how best to steal the Miracle Box, or make her meet the same fate as his mother or—or some other nefarious end. Yes. He must be. No one could be THAT nice, not after everything he went through. It had to be fake. 

*beep beep*

Marinette blinked. Her stomach twisted. “The Akuma Alert app? But it can’t be- unless-”

A video popped up, showing the new threat. 

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news! Past Pirate has made the trip from the U.S. all the way to our fair city of Paris. With Ladybug and Chat Noir still missing, we can only hope that other superheroes arrive soon, before everyone in the city forgets who they are.”

Ah.

Not an akuma or sentimonster, then. Just a random supervillain that thought the absence of Miraculous wielders made Paris an easy target. 

Somehow that didn’t make her feel better. At least if it was a sentimonster, she might’ve been able to catch Adrien in the act, prove that he was evil, and recover the lost Miraculous. This- this she could do nothing about.

She was useless.

*beep beep*

A text warning popped up, issuing an evacuation order. A giant orb had been spotted near Collège Françoise Dupont, one that looked very, very similar to the one Oblivio had threatened the city with, all those years ago.

Marinette suspected it served the same function.

She needed to get out of there, NOW.

Her parents were out at dinner on the other side of the city, so hopefully they’d be safe?

The only ones here were her and-

Oooooh crap.

Her and ADRIEN.

...He’d be fine on his own. Right? He got to work every morning after all. He could evacuate on his own. 

But his apartment had to be close by, close enough that it’d be in the evacuation order, too. He’d have to go to some public place for cover.

During a supervillain attack.

With a lot of people scared and worried and having flashbacks to what his father did.

...and with him having one of the most recognizable faces in Paris. 

Crap.

She was gonna have to take him with her, wasn’t she?

She hurried downstairs. Adrien was already putting on his coat, getting ready to run out the door. 

“Wait!”

He froze. An instant later, he turned around. “Marinette? You’ve gotta get out of here, the supervillain-”

She nodded. “I know, come with me.”

He blinked. “Are— are you sure? You don’t need to put up with me just because we’re both heading out, I can go a different direction if it’s more comfortable for you.” His voice dropped. “I know you probably have some trauma associated with what my father did and this situation isn’t helping.”

Why did Adrien have to be so unfailingly nice?! 

Marinette shook her head. “My parents would be devastated if something happened to you and I- I don’t want you hurt, either,” she got out in a rush. “I don’t want you out there alone.”

Adrien stared at her, startled. His eyes softened. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Her face heated up. “Po Noblem!” She shook her head. “I—I mean, no problem! Anyone would do it.”

He shook his head. She didn’t have time to think about that before she grabbed his hand, running out the door.

And into a purple beam blast.

-------

Blinking rapidly, he looked around.

He appeared to be on a street… somewhere and—

A purple blast hit a few feet away from his head.

Right. Get out of here first, figure out what was going on second. Maybe he’d find someone else someplace AWAY from the scary light blasts.

He attempted to run down the street and away from whatever the purple blast thing was. 

“WAAAAH!” 

Attempt at running: failed. Attempt at finding someone else: success!

He winced. “Sorry I dragged you down. Didn’t realize I was holding your hand.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide, still on top of him where she landed. “What’s going on? Who are you?” Her breath caught. “Who am I?”

“I… have no idea.” He admitted. “I don’t remember anything before a minute ago.”

Another purple blast fired. He flinched. “I don’t think sticking around here is a good idea. Let’s get somewhere a little safer first, THEN try to figure out who we are.”

She nodded, getting up and pulling him to his feet. She didn’t let go of his hand. “This way?” she asked, pointing away from where the blast had fired from, down the street the direction he’d tried to run. 

He nodded.

They booked it, running in unison, automatically adjusting their gait to exactly match their companion’s.

After they’d gotten some distance away, they slowed down, huffing and puffing from the exertion.

“You think that’s far enough?” the girl asked. 

He shrugged. 

She started digging through her purse. He blinked, tilting his head. “What’re you looking for?”

She didn’t look up, sticking her tongue out the side of her teeth, appearing to concentrate even harder.

It was adorable.

Huh?

Well, he HAD been holding her hand when he woke up…

“This!” she said triumphantly, holding up her ID card.

He shelved his previous line of thought. For now, at least.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Nice to run into you, Marinette!”

She giggled. “I enjoyed falling for you too, uh…”

His face heated up. “Let me check.”

After looking through a few of his coat pockets (one of which held some cheese. Did he normally like the gooey food that much? It didn’t look that appetizing to him right now) he at last located his own ID. “Adrien Agreste.”

“You have anything else that’s useful?” Marinette asked.

“Let’s see…”

After emptying out his pockets, he concluded he had his phone, ID, that piece of Camembert, a debit and credit card, and 70 Euros.

“Well, at least we’re not memoryless AND broke,” Marinette commented.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Well…” 

She proceeded to pull out several cookies, a sewing kit, a first aid kit, duct tape, an umbrella, a few items that he felt he should recognize that Marinette hastily stuck back in her purse, saying they weren’t relevant to this situation, and a small black box with an intricate red design on the top, as well as her phone and wallet.

Adrien looked critically at the mass of items. “I don’t think all that should be able to fit in that tiny purse.”

Marinette looked at the objects she had pulled out. Then looked at her purse. Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Especially that umbrella. Doesn’t matter how I put that in, it shouldn’t fit. Plus that box- that wasn’t there when I first started rooting through my purse, I’m sure of it!”

He tilted his head. “It wasn’t?”

“I’d shoved everything around a few times,” she explained, “trying to see to the bottom of it. The first few times I didn’t see it, though there WAS some black fabric in the way - that was the umbrella - and once I pulled the umbrella up, well, there it was, lying beneath it.”

“Anything inside it?” 

Marinette opened it.

“Nothing,” she said, disappointed. “Just two indentations where something used to be.”

Adrien peered at Marinette. “Maybe it’s the casing for your earrings?”

She startled. “My earrings?”

Reaching up a hand, she felt her ears. “Maybe? Let me see.”

Taking them off, she set them in the box. They fit perfectly.

They also looked different. 

“Spotted earrings?” he wondered. “They didn’t look like that before.”

Marinette blinked. “They didn’t?”

He shook his head. “They were black before, not red with black spots.”

“Maybe the lighting just made them look weird?” 

“Maybe…”

He looked more critically at Marinette’s ears. “Wait. Something’s weird here, too.”

“Here?”

“With your ears.”

“What’s wrong with my ears?!” she said, sounding on the edge of panic.

“Feel where the earrings were, where you took them out of.”

She shot him a puzzled look, but complied, feeling her lobe, then her entire ear. “Where were they?” she wondered. “I can’t find the holes.”

“Exactly. I can’t see them either.”

“Hold on, let me try something,” she said.

Picking up the earrings, she put them back. “Oh that is WEIRD.”

“How’d you do that?” Adrien asked. He still hadn’t seen the holes she was using, not until the earrings were in again.

“I just let my muscle memory do the talking. I wasn’t threading them through a hole or anything, I just stuck them where I felt like they should go and then— then they were there.”

“They’re back to looking black, too,” Adrien said, squinting.

“Wonder whether your earrings are the same?” Marinette said, looking at him - or rather, at his ears.

Adrien felt his ears, his fingers hitting metal. “Huh. Didn’t know I was wearing them, too. Let’s give it a try.”

He wasn’t quite as fast at removing them as she was, needing a moment to unhook and align them so they’d slide out smoothly. He held them out to her. “Did their look change?”

She shook her head. “No, they still look the same.” Looking closer at his ears, she noted, “I can see the holes left behind, too. I don’t think your earrings have the same weird properties as mine.”

“A purse that can hold more than it should, earrings that change color and leave no mark— maybe it’s magic?” Adrien wondered.

Marinette opened her mouth, looking somewhat indignant - then closed it. “I… can’t come up with a better explanation. Don’t know why I’d have some magical objects, though.”

“Maybe you’re a witch?”

“Do those even exist?”

“No idea.”

“It doesn’t feel like the right term. These are just magical objects, right?” she said. “I might not have any magical powers myself.”

“You think anything else has magical properties?” he asked.

“Let’s see…”

After messing about with the duct tape, wallet, and umbrella for awhile, they concluded that, if they had magic, they were keeping it well-concealed. Unless “closing unexpectedly” was the umbrella’s magical power. 

“Any of your things secretly magic?” she asked him. “We checked your earrings, but what about everything else?”

He tried stuffing things into his coat pockets, but they only held as much as one would expect them to. The wallets didn’t have anything special, and the only thing ‘magical’ about the cheese was how much it stank outside of its plastic baggie.

As he was putting it back in the bag (trying not to gag), he glanced at his hand, noticing a silver ring.

Figuring he might as well, he slid it off. 

Light ran over it, turning it from silver to black, with a green pawprint on its face.

“You have one, too!” Marinette cried happily.

He nodded, feeling a warmth in his core. Whatever was going on, he was the same as her. “Guess I’ve got magic, too.”

“Think they do anything except change color?” Marinette asked. 

Adrien shook the ring for a minute. “If it does, I have no idea how to activate it,” he concluded. 

“Let’s move onto our phones, then,” Marinette said, turning hers on. A lockscreen popped up.

She hesitated for a moment as Adrien winced. “That suc-”

Marinette smiled deviously. “Not so fast.” She breathed on it, showing the most common pathways her finger traveled. Swiftly she followed the path, unlocking her phone.

Adrien’s heart went pitter-patter. “Brilliant!” he told her, copying her idea and unlocking his own phone.

“I don’t have a lot of contacts,” he told her, turning it to face her. “Only four people.”

G, Chloé Bourgeois, Sabine Cheng, and Tom Dupain. That was it. “You’re not even in here,” he told Marinette. “Though I’m guessing Sabine and Tom are your parents, at least?”

She scrolled through her own contact list. It was far more extensive than his, easily over a hundred contacts. “Yeah, they are,” she said, comparing the picture for ‘Maman’ with the one Adrien used for Sabine, and the one she used for ‘Papa’ to the one he used for Tom.

“Maybe we should call them?” he suggested. “Especially since they know both of us. Maybe they can help!”

She nodded, clicking on the Call button for Maman. 

“Hello?” she asked, sounding nervous.

“Marinette? Are you okay? Is Adrien with you? I hadn’t checked my phone until just now, I had it on silent. You’ve evacuated from the bakery, right? Without Ladybug around to fix everything, who knows when everyone hit by Past Pirate will recover their memories!”

“I’m— well I’m mostly fine, Maman, I got away from the purple blasts. I’m guessing those were from Past Pirate? Adrien and I lost our memories, though. What should we do?”

“Oh. Oh NO.” Sabine sounded horrified. “That’s very, very dangerous, especially for Adrien.”

“Why is it dangerous for me?” he asked. 

“Oh, Adrien! Glad to hear from you,” Sabine said, relieved. She hesitated, appearing to choose her words carefully. “Your father—he did some very bad things. Things that people blame you for, despite having no part in them. You’re very recognizable, too. If people see you, they could react badly.”

“People blame Adrien for what his father did? That’s terrible! Why would they do that?” Marinette said, flabbergasted.

Sabine suddenly sounded very awkward. “Well, dear, sometimes people have trauma and it just latches onto innocent people, even when it’s undeserved. They’re wrong, but I wouldn’t judge them too harshly.”

Marinette still looked indignant. “That doesn’t excuse treating him badly!”

Sabine coughed. “Yes. Well. Just be careful. Maybe try to find a disguise for Adrien if you can, before wandering into public areas? Until you’re back home and this crisis is abated.”

Marinette muttered quietly, “He shouldn’t HAVE to.” More loudly, she told Sabine. “Yes, Maman. I have everything I need for that.”

Adrien could practically feel Sabine beaming through the phone. “You’re always prepared, aren’t you?”

Marinette smiled. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon, with my memory intact.”

Stowing her phone, she reached for her sewing kit. “One disguise, coming right up!”