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moog-rt · 7 months

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GO TO HELL [ch. 3]

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

Previous: Chapter Two

➨ Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Four

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): sudden popularity, mistakes were made (by you not me <3)

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER THREE

Well.

You finally made it on TV. Fame and fortune were nearly yours for the taking. People would be lining up outside for your autograph and maybe even just the chance to catch a glimpse of you.

The ‘Human in Hell.’

That was the headline the news broadcasters decided on. It was slapped on top of a clip of you hauling ass through the rancid streets of Hell. You were clearly panic stricken and fearing for your life, but why would the announcers care about that?.

A darn shame it was being aired live across all of Hell. Your dignity was the price you would pay for fame amongst the worst people to walk the Earth.

You were curled into yourself on the couch, unable to peel your eyes away from the screen. Vaggie was pacing behind it, muttering out profanities you didn’t know existed. And Charlie? She was doing her best to calm the both of you down. Bless her heart.

The reason you had to end your little escapade to the Morningstar Manor early was because Vaggie texted saying she had bad news. You thought perhaps her recruiting backfired or there could have been a fire in the hotel that she couldn’t put out.

You did not expect to be called back because the entirety of Hell now had you on their radar. This complicated things quite a bit as one might imagine. It was much easier to hide as a human when only a handful of people knew about you. Now, everyone’s eyes were peeled in hope of finding you.

“Look, she’s all-over social media, too,” Vaggie groaned, showing her phone screen to the two of you. She began to read off some of the posts, “Vox and Katy Killjoy are promising viewers an interview with her…There’s already bidding wars for Christ’s sake!”

“Let’s not worry too much about this…As long as we make sure she’s in her disguise when we’re out, it’ll all be okay,” Charlie said.

“They caught her on video. What if they tracked her to the hotel? They could show up any second looking for her!”

It was touching she cared so much about your well-being in this situation, but the goal was to have you back home as soon as possible. Once you were out of Hell, none of this would be a problem. You doubted demons would pass into the living world just to come after you. At that point, there was an endless number of humans to choose from.

“I don’t know…They probably would have already shown up if they knew she was here,” Charlie reasoned, and Vaggie’s pacing began to slow.

“I was able to get away from all the demons that were after me by the time I found the hotel,” you added. “No one should have been around to see me come in.”

Charlie was finally able to get Vaggie to sit, and a tense silence enveloped the three of you. Charlie was rubbing Vaggie’s arms soothingly, so you took it upon yourself to turn off the tv. There was no point in listening to it anymore. All it did was stress everyone out, and there was nothing you could really do about it. Your current plan of action remained the best.

“So how was your day, Vaggie?” you asked in hopes of breaching a more positive topic.

“Oh, right! Did you find anybody who would be interested in staying with us?” Charlie chimed in with a bright grin.

The poor girl sighed in response.

“There was one person who was interested in what we’re offering,” she began, “but he seemed more enticed by free rent than redemption…”

“That’s okay. Maybe if he spends a little time with us, the idea of redemption will start to grow on him!” Charlie sounded like she was also trying to convince herself.

“I guess…” Vaggie grumbled. “He said he might drop by tomorrow or the day after to check things out. Would that work for you guys?”

“Oh, my gosh. That would be great!” Charlie squealed, jumping up from the floor. “We have to head back to my dad’s in the morning, but any time after that would be perfect.”

“No luck today?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “We were able to look around a little bit but we ended up running into her old man.”

“And he tried interrogating her,” Charlie groaned, running her hands through her hair as the memory resurfaced. “I was so worried he would suspect something, but your emergency text totally saved us.”

“Did the disguise work at least?”

That was an excellent question. While he didn’t seem to question anything about your appearance, he still seemed suspicious. It was entirely possible he could smell your fear. You’d expect no less from a demon; they probably fed off of it. Who knows…

You should be nicer. Charlie and Vaggie certainly hadn’t given you that impression. In fact, you were pretty sure you saw one of them eating toast for breakfast. They likely had perfectly normal digestive systems.

“I think so! We’re just gonna have to make a good cover story in case he finds us again.”

The three of you began to brainstorm, losing track of time as it faded into playful conversation. There was an intermission to order food since their ‘kitchen’ still wasn’t quite ready to be used to such an extent. And eventually, you parted ways to get ready for bed.

Your arms were full after they had given you a towel and a plethora of toiletries to help scrub all the paint off of your body. When you entered your room, you were also greeted by your ‘human’ clothes, clean and neatly folded on top of your bed.

And laying on top of those was your phone.

Holy shit. You had completely forgotten you had it on you before your ass was ripped through that portal. Of course, the adrenaline rush that immediately followed your arrival in Hell didn’t help. And you were so eager to get those nasty, garbage covered clothes off, you hadn’t noticed the weight in your back pocket.

You dumped all the toiletries onto your bed to grab it.

The home screen was piled with notifications ranging from worried texts to company newsletter alerts. You began thumbing in your password to rifle through it all… but then you noticed your hand.

The paint was rubbed away.

On your fingers and wrists. There were splotches where paint was gone, revealing your natural skin underneath.

When did this happen?

Your palms were almost completely barren, likely from everything you had touched throughout the day. On the back of your hands and around your wrists, there were smaller spots where your skin was peeking through.

Like fingerprints.

You felt like you were delt a sucker punch to the gut.

Maybe…Maybe it was from your own hand. You could have been rubbing at your own wrists subconsciously. With all the stress-inducing shit going down, that wouldn’t be unlikely.

But if the paint could come off so easily…

No. You had to believe it was your own doing.

Regardless, you had to find a way to prevent it from happening again.

You opted to wait until the morning to break the bad news to Charlie and Vaggie. The two had just gone off to bed, and honestly, your nerves were getting the better of you. Your stomach was twisting in on itself as your heart pounded relentlessly against your ribs.

You would tell them. You would.

Just not right now.

More than anything, you wanted that dried up paint off of you.

Tossing your phone aside and grabbing your bathing supplies, you scrambled into the bathroom to throw the shower on. The feeling of peeling those clothes off and clambering in to let the hot water rush over your sticky body was ethereal. It was so satisfying to watch the unnatural pigment run off your skin, erasing any evidence that it may have transferred onto that man’s hands.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, hoping it would wash away your worries, as well.

Finding the will to get out of the shower was difficult. But your body was tired, as well as your mind.

Flicking the lights off, you tumbled into bed, content with its softness in that moment as the mattress and pillows consumed you entirely. You were more than ready to knock out and forget about all that had happened over the past couple of days.

You didn’t want to think about the fact you were likely being hunted by god knows how many hell-goers. You didn’t want to think about the impact the time you spent here would leave on your life in the living world. Your job, your relationships (thankfully you didn’t have a pet). More than anything, you didn’t want to think about the possibility you may never get home at all.

With a deep sigh, you rolled onto your side and felt something hard beneath your hip. You groaned as you reached down to remove it, finding the phone that you had carelessly tossed aside. It made your heart swell.

You wanted your friends. You wanted to read their texts, new and old. Hell, you wanted to see any memes or posts they may have sent you. Any semblance of normality was all you needed right now. You would take whatever you could get.

Slowly, you reached over and grabbed it. Its brightness hadn’t yet adjusted, and you squinted as you flash banged yourself.

Opening your messages, you saw Devon at the top. They said that they hoped you could see their message, that you were somehow okay.

That depends on what you consider to be ‘okay’.

Beneath them was that boy, Jack. He sounded upset. He probably thought you were ignoring his texts out of spite. His messages were a mixture of asking what was wrong and saying you were overreacting over whatever it was he had done.

You couldn’t recall him doing anything to upset you recently, so it seemed there were things you had yet to find out about. What a pain.

Your other friends that you were supposed to spend time with today were expressing their concern for your absence.

Are you coming?

Where are you?

Is everything okay?

Please respond.

It made your heart ache. You needed to let them know you were at least alive.

As soon as you started writing a message of your own, the text began to buzz. The overhead light and lamps in your room began to strobe, and pixels of red flashed across your screen as a horrible humming emanated from the phone. It sounded as if the room was filled with a swarm of bees. It was deafening.

Then you noticed those shackles.

Those red, glowing shackles that dragged you here were flickering around your wrists once more. You sat straight up, ready for them to pull you somewhere new, but then the room went dark and the noise was gone.

You could still feel the sheets beneath your knees, and when you turned on the lamp beside your bed, the room looked untouched. At the very least, you knew you hadn’t been thrown through another portal.

There was no sign that anything had happened at all.

♡

Your phone would not turn on again after that whole…event…from the night before. At most, it would crackle at you, but the screen remained black. It was possible it just died from low battery, but you weren’t paying attention to that. You wondered what the odds were that Charlie would have a compatible charger.

You could ask her about it later.

The two of you were back on the grind to find a way to access the living world. Once again, Vaggie had to hang back. They decided it would be best for someone to make the hotel slightly more presentable in case the potential patron decided to stop by that evening. A good call, in your opinion.

Beggars can’t be choosers, but their place didn’t seem particularly livable from the outside. Hence, why you thought it would be a good spot to hunker down to begin with.

You and Charlie had slipped into her dad’s place again, this time undetected. After checking out the room of relics once more and without any interruptions, you found nothing that seemed to be of use (from what you could tell, shit was written in ancient tongue).

Your next stop was library where you decided to split up in order to cover more ground.

Now, you wandered aimlessly through the towering shelves of books, unsure of where to start. Having no clue how it was all organized, you settled on the tactic of picking out books at random and letting your luck guide you.

It wasn’t going so well.

You were able to find only one or two books pertaining to the ‘mortal’ world, but neither had anything to do with accessing it. They more so covered history of civilization and travel guides once you were there.

Pulling out another book that looked to be promising, you sighed as that, too, ended up being a dud. Half an hour had easily passed since you began your search, and you were growing despondent.

You wanted to believe that there was some way to get back. Charlie and Vaggie had said so themselves. But if Charlie’s old home was your best shot, you didn’t like your odds looking anywhere else.

No matter how much you tried to stay optimistic, you couldn’t help but dwell on the possibility of being truly stuck here. Finding a way out was starting to feel like finding a needle in a haystack, especially now that you were rummaging through a library that easily held thousands of books.

You hated the thought of not being able to see your friends again. Your family. Stuck in a world where there was a target on your back for simply existing in it.

Your energy was beginning to dwindle. You were slowing down, and your heart felt so heavy.

And you hated it.

You hated the way your vision was beginning to blur and how your sunglasses were fogging up as your face grew warmer.

Your sleeve wiped away the first tear that threatened to slip past, but you were too slow for the second. It left a wet streak down your cheek before you were able to dab it away. You wanted to be careful of your makeup.

When Charlie was getting you ready earlier, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her about the paint missing from your hands. You wanted to, but every time you thought you found the courage to say it, your throat grew tight, choking you into silence.

The most you could do was suggest a setting spray or powder to make sure it really stayed put. You told her you were just worried about the possibility of it coming off. Even if you couldn’t pull the truth from your own mouth, you wanted to take whatever precautions you could.

Your precautions, it seemed, were still not enough as the paint transferred onto your sleeve. Leave it to tears to ruin a girl’s makeup. You need to find someplace with a reflection to see if you could cover it up somehow.

As if on cue, you heard Charlie walking into your aisle. You felt relieved as she could probably blend the new smudges you’d created before anyone could see them.

“Hey, sorry but do you think you could help me out real quick?” you ask as you turned to her with your hand covering your cheek.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you were greeted not by the sight of your newest friend but her father instead.

His hands were propped up on his staff, and his eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline. He had a smug smile on his face to compliment it. Like he had caught you in the act.

There was nothing suspicious about looking at books in a library, though. Was there?

Adjusting your sunglasses so they were back in place, you put on the most charming smile you could conjure.

‘Hi—Good morning, Mr. Morningstar!”

“Hello, again,” he hummed, tilting his head as he watched you. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon.”

“Right, uh…Well, we had to leave in such a hurry yesterday. Charlie wasn’t able to find what she came for, so we’re back!” You lifted your shoulders to appear more excited than you were. At least you weren’t lying.

His finger started tapping on his apple.

“It’s quite interesting she didn’t think to give me any heads up. Almost like she’s trying to hide something…” He looked down at the book you were still holding for a moment then back at you.

Your heartrate spiked.

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?” He walked up next to you and made an act of looking through some of the books on the shelves you had just gone through.

“Huh? Oh, I’m not completely sure what Charlie needs, but she said I was welcome to look around in here,” you said, holding the book closer to your chest in hopes of hiding its title. “But I understand it’s your library, so if you’d prefer I not be in here, I’ll leave.”

He paused. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and pressed the apple of his staff to his lips.

“Look,” he began, turning back around to face you, “you said you were relatively new here, correct?”

You nodded, unsure of where this was going.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I can imagine the change was sudden, and it can be pretty hard to accept,” he said as he made a gesture with his hand. “I don’t blame you for seeking out ways to feel like you’re still in touch with your life before.”

You looked away, tight lipped.

It was hard, but you didn’t want to have to accept it. You weren’t dead. Not yet. Which meant returning to your life before was still an option for you.

“I’m very grateful to have met your daughter,” you said, shaking your head and looking back at him.

His eyes were trained on you, and it no longer felt as if he was trying to look through you or figure out your intentions. Rather, he was looking at you.

“It all would’ve been much worse for me if I hadn’t,” you continued. “She’s given me a safe place to stay and has been trying to help me in any way she can, and I feel very lucky for that.”

You looked back at him with a soft smile. Soft but genuine. Meeting Charlie and Vaggie was the only bout of good luck you’d had since being sent to Hell.

A smile grew on his face in return, and for once, you didn’t feel threatened by it.

“That makes me happy to hear,” he said. “She’s always been much too kind for a place like this.”

“I suppose so,” you chuckled. “I think that just means you did a pretty good job raising her.”

“Aha…I hope so…” he glanced away, sharp teeth beginning to peek through his lips. He then reached a hand out towards you. “May I see that book?”

Hesitating for a moment, you passed it to him. He read over the title before looking up at the endless shelves.

“Come with me,” he said, walking down the aisle.

You followed him in silence. As he turned the corner, you passed a large arched window that allowed red light to stream through. It illuminated the few specs of dust in the air, and when he walked through it, it turned his hair and skin a blush pink.

As you passed under the light, it felt as though all your prior nervousness washed away.

Yesterday, you wanted nothing more than to be as far from this man as possible.

Now, you felt at ease as he guided you through his labyrinth of a library.

He began pulling books from the shelves here and there, handing them off to you. When you looked them over, you realized they were all pertaining to the living world. You knew better than to hope he’d give you one that held the key to getting home…but what if?

You chatted with him a bit about Charlie and her hotel as you went on through the aisles. You were a little surprised by how much he didn’t know about her plans.

After a few minutes, your arms were filled with a stack almost up to your chin.

“That should do it!” he announced, turning to you with a wide grin as he brushed the dust from his hands. His eyes lingered on your face.

“Thank you so much! This is really kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ll be sure to give them back when I’m—uh…done with them!”

“No rush at all. I’ll be sure to stop by soon to see what all my dear daughter has been up to,” he said with a smirk.

You said your goodbyes and watched as he walked away. The smile adorning your face was subconscious, and your chest felt full and warm.

The weight of all the books was making your arms tired. You had yet to look at what he pulled out for you, but you could wait until you were back at the hotel to rifle through them. You probably wouldn’t be able to find anything better than what he had given you, so you decided to meet back up with Charlie.

She found some things that looked promising, as well. You figured she would have told you more about them if her eyes hadn’t landed on your cheek. The cheek that was out on display for the whole world to see as both your arms were full of the books her father had pulled out for you.

Next Chapter

♡ ♡ ♡

tag list: @spookysisters @for-hearthand-home @crescent-z @mixplara @juskonutoh @tinywolfiegirl @lafy-taffy @glowinthedarkbones1150

#lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #demon summoning #occult #charlie magne #charlie morningstar #Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie #Charlie Magne x Vaggie #i don't know their ship name my apologies #someone is famous #not in a good way :/

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lantur · 6 months

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2006: A conversation with a military recruiter prompts 18-year-old Tessa Halifax to enlist in the US Army after graduation. This pivotal decision takes her from her New Jersey suburb to the streets of Baghdad, as a military working dog handler. In Iraq, Tessa meets disillusioned soldier Ryan Chao. Their experiences as soldiers lead them to make a dramatic departure from the careers they envisioned for themselves. 2025: Tessa’s ultimate goal as Chief of Staff to Vice President Ryan Chao is to help him win the White House in 2028. However, fallout from the events of the 2024 election cause a ripple effect that permanently alters Tessa’s life. A Box Full of Darkness is an intensely personal story of strength and resilience, of healing and rebuilding after loss, and of devotion to the causes - and people - that matter the most.

So many of you have read my writing (Strings, Lights in the Shadow, Delicate) over the past several years, across different fandoms. Thank you for being so supportive. All of your encouragement on tumblr and Archive of our Own helped me take the step toward writing an original novel. I'm so excited to share this with you.

Paperbacks are available here and on Amazon. The ebook is also available on Amazon. Unfortunately, Kindle devices are experiencing technical difficulties at the moment, and if you plan on reading on a Kindle device you may want to wait for the next update coming soon. However, the ebook works great on iPads and other browsers. As you can see from the screenshot, the paperback is beautiful and is well worth the wait. :)

Thank you to @chewytriforce for her cover art and design, and @broomchickabroom for her interior design and typesetting!

If you have any questions about purchasing the novel or ebook, please don't hesitate to contact me. ❤️

#reblogs are very much appreciated!#bookblr #authors of color

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astralleywright · 4 months

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it was great to have Matt really emphasize a point he's made before last night-that the history of Exandria (including that contained within the official books) is not a neutral, untouched retelling of events but a narrative written by the victors.

one of the many thoroughlines of Campaign 3 has been the power of knowledge; of who has it and who doesn't, and how the powerful employ it for their own ends. the most obvious example is surely the Weave Mind, whose staggering control over what its subjects know on both a macro (erasing entire histories, making Ruidians see the dreams of Exandrians) and micro (being able to enter their minds at any time) level compromises much of what we learned of Ruidis during our first trip there. but similar behavior is reflected all across Exandria, by the Weave Mind's enemies as much as it's allies.

like the Weave Mind, Vasselheim also erased massive parts of Exandrian history-the death of two gods by Predathos, and the subsequent creation of Ruidis as a prison- from the world. Both they and the Ruby Vanguard hunted down members of the Grim Verity and the Omen Archive for discovering this information, and for conducting research about Ruidis and Ruidisborn. the Vanguard infiltrated and actively recruited from that research as well, even, as seen in the case of Liliana.

Liliana, who left her home and her family in the first place to find answers about her powers and her nightmares-and thus, her pain-that she would never have a chance of learning in Gelvaan. in fact, many Ruidisborn we meet seem to find their way to the Vanguard because they want answers, or belonging; this reveals the harm done by Vasselheim's repression of knowledge. by trying to keep the truth of Ruidis out of "the wrong hands", they helped create the conditions, the lack of access of answers, the suspicion and ostracization of Ruidisborn, that have let their worst enemies thrive.

there's a problem with accessability to education across all of Exandria, really. public libraries seem to be largely nonexistent, especially with regards to higher level knowledge. even the incredibly benevolent Cobalt Soul restricts access to the wealth of information it has, and for many of the same reasons Vasselheim obscured information regarding Predathos; they don't want that knowledge being abused by the wrong person. but determined practically, "the wrong hands" tend to be those who don't already have power and access. the very first scene of the campaign is Imogen being denied entry from a university library, all but explicitly because of her lower class status and lack of connections with the upper echelon of Jrusar. if Imogen hadn't been able to get in, or if she had been found by members of the Ruby Vanguard before the Grim Verity, who knows where she'd be right now? what she'd believe, even if she had doubts about the Vanguard's methods? (would she even know the full breadth of their methods? or would they keep that from her, too?)

and on the other hand: surely the head of the Cerberus Assembly wouldn't be restricted from almost any library, right? especially not after a trade or a bribe or a spell or two?

#critical role #cr3 #4sd spoilers #bells hells #c3 #cr #crposting #long post #anyways. matt mercer you sly old dog you've done it again #ftr he mentioned the thing abt the official books i believe in ep 89 (divisive portents)

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book--brackets · 2 months

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The Mistborn Saga by Brandon Sanderson (2006-2022)

For a thousand years the ash fell and no flowers bloomed. For a thousand years the Skaa slaved in misery and lived in fear. For a thousand years the Lord Ruler, the "Sliver of Infinity," reigned with absolute power and ultimate terror, divinely invincible. Then, when hope was so long lost that not even its memory remained, a terribly scarred, heart-broken half-Skaa rediscovered it in the depths of the Lord Ruler's most hellish prison. Kelsier "snapped" and found in himself the powers of a Mistborn. A brilliant thief and natural leader, he turned his talents to the ultimate caper, with the Lord Ruler himself as the mark. Kelsier recruited the underworld's elite, the smartest and most trustworthy allomancers, each of whom shares one of his many powers, and all of whom relish a high-stakes challenge. Only then does he reveal his ultimate dream, not just the greatest heist in history, but the downfall of the divine despot. But even with the best criminal crew ever assembled, Kel's plan looks more like the ultimate long shot, until luck brings a ragged girl named Vin into his life. Like him, she's a half-Skaa orphan, but she's lived a much harsher life. Vin has learned to expect betrayal from everyone she meets, and gotten it. She will have to learn to trust, if Kel is to help her master powers of which she never dreamed.

This saga dares to ask a simple question: What if the hero of prophecy fails?

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman (2013)

A middle-aged man returns to his childhood home to attend a funeral. Although the house he lived in is long gone, he is drawn to the farm at the end of the road, where, when he was seven, he encountered a most remarkable girl, Lettie Hempstock, and her mother and grandmother. He hasn't thought of Lettie in decades, and yet as he sits by the pond (a pond that she'd claimed was an ocean) behind the ramshackle old farmhouse where she once lived, the unremembered past comes flooding back. And it is a past too strange, too frightening, too dangerous to have happened to anyone, let alone a small boy.

Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire (1995-2011)

When Dorothy triumphed over the Wicked Witch of the West in L. Frank Baum’s classic tale, we heard only her side of the story. But what about her arch-nemesis, the mysterious Witch? Where did she come from? How did she become so wicked?

Gregory Maguire has created a fantasy world so rich and vivid that we will never look at Oz the same way again.

Wicked is about a land where animals talk and strive to be treated like first-class citizens, Munchkinlanders seek the comfort of middle-class stability, and the Tin Man becomes a victim of domestic violence. And then there is the little green-skinned girl named Elphaba, who will grow up to become the infamous Wicked Witch of the West—a smart, prickly, and misunderstood creature who challenges all our preconceived notions about the nature of good and evil.

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice (1976-2018)

This is the story of Louis, as told in his own words, of his journey through mortal and immortal life. Louis recounts how he became a vampire at the hands of the radiant and sinister Lestat and how he became indoctrinated, unwillingly, into the vampire way of life. His story ebbs and flows through the streets of New Orleans, defining crucial moments such as his discovery of the exquisite lost young child Claudia, wanting not to hurt but to comfort her with the last breaths of humanity he has inside. Yet, he makes Claudia a vampire, trapping her womanly passion, will, and intelligence inside the body of a small child. Louis and Claudia form a seemingly unbreakable alliance and even "settle down" for a while in the opulent French Quarter. Louis remembers Claudia's struggle to understand herself and the hatred they both have for Lestat that sends them halfway across the world to seek others of their kind. Louis and Claudia are desperate to find somewhere they belong, to find others who understand, and someone who knows what and why they are.

Louis and Claudia travel Europe, eventually coming to Paris and the ragingly successful Theatre des Vampires--a theatre of vampires pretending to be mortals pretending to be vampires. Here they meet the magnetic and ethereal Armand, who brings them into a whole society of vampires. But Louis and Claudia find that finding others like themselves provides no easy answers and in fact presents dangers they scarcely imagined.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (1865-1876)

After a tumble down the rabbit hole, Alice finds herself far away from home in the absurd world of Wonderland. As mind-bending as it is delightful, Lewis Carroll’s 1865 novel is pure magic for young and old alike.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer (2001-2012)

Twelve-year-old Artemis Fowl is a millionaire, a genius—and, above all, a criminal mastermind. But even Artemis doesn't know what he's taken on when he kidnaps a fairy, Captain Holly Short of the LEPrecon Unit. These aren't the fairies of bedtime stories—they're dangerous! Full of unexpected twists and turns, Artemis Fowl is a riveting, magical adventure.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (2008)

Bod is an unusual boy who inhabits an unusual place--he's the only living resident of a graveyard. Raised from infancy by the ghosts, werewolves, and other cemetery denizens, Bod has learned the antiquated customs of his guardians' time as well as their ghostly teachings--such as the ability to Fade so mere mortals cannot see him.

Can a boy raised by ghosts face the wonders and terrors of the worlds of both the living and the dead?

The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan (1990-2013)

The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow.

When The Two Rivers is attacked by Trollocs—a savage tribe of half-men, half-beasts— five villagers flee that night into a world they barely imagined, with new dangers waiting in the shadows and in the light.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (1996)

Under the streets of London there's a place most people could never even dream of. A city of monsters and saints, murderers and angels, knights in armour and pale girls in black velvet. This is the city of the people who have fallen between the cracks.

Richard Mayhew, a young businessman, is going to find out more than enough about this other London. A single act of kindness catapults him out of his workday existence and into a world that is at once eerily familiar and utterly bizarre. And a strange destiny awaits him down here, beneath his native city: Neverwhere.

The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson (2010-present)

Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter.

It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them.

One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable.

Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity.

Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar's niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan's motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war.

#best fantasy book #poll #mistborn #the ocean at the end of the lane #wicked #the vampire chronicles #alice’s adventures in wonderland #artemis fowl #the graveyard book #the wheel of time #never where #the stormlight archive

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ao3sbatfamily · 5 months

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Hey do you have any recs for fics where the batfamily does something that absolutely should not be possible and everyone is like wtf?

I feel like in most of the JLA meet batfam fics, the JLA focuses more on batman have kids and less on the fact that they usually did some terrifying shit. I went with cryptid batfam.

This was made into a series, so make sure to check out the sequels.

'Growling in the Shadows' by GayBatBoi

It was Martian Manhunter who interrupted his thoughts this time. “I have not met many humans who have met this Batman, but the ones I have talked to did not broadcast fear when thinking of him. In fact they seemed to feel more hopeful and safe when talking about The Batman.

“I don’t know, this just seems like a bad idea. Isn’t there anyone else we could try first?” Clark whined. He couldn’t exactly just say ‘I don’t want to go because I’m scared’. The others would never let him live it down.

“We all know that there are precious few heroes we can ask to join us, Clark. We must ensure that the hero we ask is as strong as possible to make up for our small amount of warriors.” Diana chimed in again, always the voice of reason. “A few strong teammates is far superior to many weak ones.”

“I’m still not convinced this Batman character is a good guy at all.“ He pouted, arms crossed like a child throwing a tantrum. He didn’t care. If Clark had to Gotham he could at least sulk about it a bit first.

“We could always offer him the position as a trial run. If he’s a good guy then we recruit him full time. If he’s a villain then at least we can keep a close eye on him and take care of it if we need to” Green Arrow took Flash and Diana’s side.

“I think it’s worth a shot. It is not as if there are many heroes to choose from and this Batman may surprise us yet.” Wonder Woman smiled.

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mezzy-1 · 7 months

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Hi! Yes! I’m the ask! I’m very excited hehe. The 4 agents I chose for: Iso, Jett, Sage and Deadlock. If I had to describe the reader’s personality they’d be like private/reserved sort of very calm and an experienced fighter, reader could be fighting against the selected agents (sort of like how you did Nomad and their recruitment? I really like Nomad btw).

I unfortunately wasn’t able to find Acheron’s exact capabilities but I did decide on a basis for the reader’s abilities (Ice or snow) also I did find a few clips for reference:

https://youtu.be/l1Yw8r4F9W0?si=K-SiYUsK6Qi-v0dD

https://youtu.be/G2xiqsEoFDQ?si=R4VNy-oS_2fQ84qB

COLD RECEPTION // (VALORANT X READER)

Reader Profile// SNOWFALL

Your status as a radiant made you stand out in the world, and your abilities terrified those around you. The Scions of the Hourglass made a deal with you, they would train and care for you and you’d help maintain their secrecy. Abandoning your lonely existence, you became a master of your ability over ice and did work for the Scions. Soon, you began to doubt your allies and were assigned a Valorant agent to kill as a final test of loyalty.

ISO

There was a stillness in the air, brought on by a combination of the night and the cold that blew through the streets of a desolate industrial district

You waited outside with binoculars trained on the sidewalks, waiting for your target. Deciding that your stakeout was taking too long, you looked over the dossier again

Li Zhao Yu, aka. Iso, defected from the Scions months ago to join an organization called Valorant. His skills rivaled yours, and his power over radianite was strong too

The picture included didn’t match up with the face of a hardened killer though

Below you spotted something purple flash from the windows of an abandoned factory. You narrowed your eyes and watched for more

Iso was locked in combat with a number of radiants. If it wasn’t for the dossier you would've been shocked at how dangerous he was

He dropped each of the radiants one by one. All the while, he maintained an air of calmness with each shot

He exited the building carrying some strange triangular device. He put his finger to his ear and muttered something to an unknown receiver

Realizing he was calling in some kind of extraction, you put your plan into action and activated your radiance

Wind began to swirl around as frost collected on broken windows. You pulled your knife from its sheath and let ice collect along the blade

Swinging the blade, you launched the collected frost towards Iso. Your careful aim drove the ice spear into his shoulder

Leaping from your vantage point, you jumped from the building and slid down to street level. You readed a pistol as you got to Iso

“You shouldn’t have left us,” you said, cocking the action back on your gun. “People like you are one of a kind.”

“If you’re with the Scions, then don’t waste my time. I work with Valorant now, and I washed my hands of those monsters.”

“They aren’t monsters, they saved me! I was nothing before they came and trained me!”

“I read some files on you, Y/N. You were missing for years and turned into a weapon for them. They fear you, they only want to control you and use your power.”

“Is that what you think? Is that why you left for some bullshit organization that pretends to care about you? The Scions are my family now, and I won’t disappoint them.”

“Valorant would take care of you if you decide to come with me. We can avoid this fight if you stand down.”

“I’d rather die than be a traitor like you.”

“...fine Y/N. What happens now is on you.” Iso grabbed the ice embedded in his shoulder and threw it to the ground

Taking your chance to shoot, you suddenly found yourself on the defensive. Iso had reached for his Sheriff while removing the ice

Bullets almost reached your head as you took cover and blocked out the area with a sudden freezing mist

You heard a window break and ran after the sound, finding yourself inside an abandoned machine shop

With your first steps in, a bullet ricocheted off the wall behind you and sparks danced from the impact

As you moved farther in, more shots came from the darkness. Iso was tired, injured, and had to hide

“Good.” you thought. You began dropping the temperature around you while placing your knife in its sheath and charging it with cold

Iso’s breath was now visible from the frigid air. He was hidden behind a hydraulic press and breathing quietly

You pulled the knife slowly from the sheath, letting ice condense onto it and extending it into a long icy blade

Silently, you moved about the shop. Your footsteps were quiet from the stealth training you endured

As you moved towards Iso, violet hexagons crept underneath you and made contact. You fell into the floor and were dropped into some strange realm

The dossier missed the fact that Iso could do this, because you were quickly disoriented by the rush of purple

“Y/N this is your last chance to stand down. I’m not here to kill you, I want to leave that part of me in the past with the Scions.” echoed throughout the space

Iso appeared in front of you and you charged forwards with your blade, directly for his neck. You sliced and crescent of frozen air spun towards his throat

He raised his hand and conjured a wall in front of him. The ice slammed into the hardened tiles as you continued with your attack

Iso turned his wrist and pulled the trigger once. The bullet went right for your head, and by closing the distance you were in even more danger

Suddenly you were back in the shop and Iso was in front of you

“Dui Bu Qi” he whispered before the world went dark around you

You awoke in a room lit by a single light and restrained in a chair. Your head was sore and the room was almost spinning

“You’re finally up Y/N. Hao de, we can finally talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you, just kill me because I won’t tell you anything about the Scions!” you spat back

“I already have all the information I could ever want on them. I don't need you to betray them for me.”

“You’re one to talk about betraying the Scions.”

“They won’t come to save you, now that they know you’ve been captured. If anything they’ll either try and kill you or assume you’re dead.”

“No! They’ll come for me, they’ll make you pay for taking me prisoner!”

“You were sent to kill me when I defected.”

Iso’s truth buried itself in a growing pit of despair in your stomach. It was so obvious they would save you but something in you began to pull at that conviction

Tears streaked down your face and turned to snowflakes as they fell. The realization that you would never have your life in order finally fell on you

A warm hand found its way onto your shoulder. Iso’s palm met yours despite the freezing cold temperature

“Bie ku Y/N. Don’t worry I know it looks lonely but you won’t be walking away from them alone. I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

“They were everything to me, but they…they’d kill me just like they’d kill anyone. Did I ever mean anything to them at all?” you asked already knowing the answer

“It doesn’t help to think of them right now, what matters is that Valorant will care about you. We aren’t here to kill or control, we just want to do right.”

You looked up and in your state your power began to escape. You began to grow colder and shivered slightly

Iso took his hand off of you and began to unzip his jacket

He draped it over your shoulders

“Y/N, you’re freezing.”

“It happens when I’m worried, I think I’ll be fine.” you tried to avert your eyes but couldn’t pull them from Iso

“Are you saying you want to join Valorant then?” Iso leaned in towards you

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, but you’ve been so patient with me. I feel horrible for what I tried to do, but you’re being kind and I want to repay that somehow.”

“I’ll talk to my higher ups and get you a room at the HQ. While we wait, we should find a way to keep you warm. Do you drink tea?”

“Sure, what kind do you have?”

Having tea with Iso was the first of many moments you shared with the assassin. Both of you had your respective pasts entwined, but that only brought you closer

Eventually it became a routine, meeting with Iso and just talking for hours on end about whatever you both thought

Months later, you realized that Valorant had become a second home for you. It was all thanks to Iso

#valorant #valorant agents #valorant imagines #valorant headcanons #valorant x you #valorant x reader #valorant iso #iso x reader #iso x you #valorant oc

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prettybillycore · 5 months

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shot through the heart || ch.1 || billy hargrove x shelby!reader

Pairing(s): Shelby!Reader x Billy Hargrove, Minor Thomas Shelby x Grace Burgess

Universe: Peaky Blinders + Stranger Things

Summary: You, one of the younger members of the Shelby clan, are just trying to find your place in the world when suddenly you are shot. Instead of dying, you are flashed-forward in time to 1984 where you meet people who will change your life forever. Will you ever be able to return home? What caused you to time-travel in the first place?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing

A/N: I know this one is in second place on the poll I’m doing, but I was just so excited about it I started with it. The one in first place is probably going to be a one or two shot where as this is definitely going to be a series so the first place winner should be out soon!

Read here below the cut or on AO3~!

Being a Shelby came with a lot of expectations. There was no way around that. Especially as a woman you felt the pressure of your last name pressing on your shoulders. Being one of the youngest in the Shelby clan didn’t help your situation. You were freshly sixteen and your brothers never let you forget it. It was only recently that you were allowed to start sitting in on family meetings; Tommy made sure of it once he felt like you were ready. Aunt Pol was against it. The tension between the two of them over it could be cut with a knife. Of course, that didn’t really matter at the current moment. “I called this meeting because I got

some news. From Ireland,” Arthur said as he drank from a flask, “Scud-Boat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares.” Arthur gestured at the two of them and they confirm this, he continues. “They were in a pub in the Shankhill

Road yesterday and there was a copper handing out these.”

You were handed a flyer, but before you could even begin reading it, John ripped it out of your hands, “If you’re over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham.”

“They’re recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials,” Arthur said.

“To do what?” Your older sister asked. Though it seemed quite obvious to you.

“To clean up the city, Ada,” Tommy replied. Exactly as you thought. “He’s a Chief Inspector. The last four years he’s been clearing the IRA out of Belfast…”

“How do you know so bloody much?” Arthur asked. This also seemed quite obvious to you.

“‘Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll,” Tommy explained. Again, exactly as you thought. You might have been one of the youngest people in the room, but you weren’t dull.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur questioned.

Tommy paused for a moment and pursed his lips. “I’m telling you.”

“So why are they sending him to Birmingham?” Aunt Pol asked. A silence fell over the room. Arthur takes a large swig of his drink. He clearly has no idea how to answer her question. Tommy steps up as the head of the meeting.

“There have been a lot of strikes at the Austen works and the BSA factory lately. Papers are talking about sedition. Revolution. I reckon it’s Communists he’s after,” Tommy and Aunt Pol look at each other intensely. You knew they were the real powerhouses of the family, despite Arthur being the oldest of you Shelby siblings.

“So this copper will leave us alone, right?” Aunt Pol asked.

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night,” Tommy answered.

You eyed John carefully. He was clearly very bothered by the idea of this copper coming to town. You weren’t exactly at ease with the idea either. “Yeah but we ain’t IRA. We bloody fought for the King. Anyway, we’re Peaky Blinders. We’re not scared of coppers. If they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.”

“You’re right,” Arthur agreed.

You notice the snickers of some of the younger men in the room, but what catches your eye the most is Tommy’s hand carefully balling up the flyer until it’s tightly spiraled in his palm. “So, Arthur, is that it?”

Arthur’s gaze moved around the room, “What do you think, Aunt Pol?”

She sighed, the cigarette in her hand was still smoldering. “This family does everything open. You have nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?”

“No…” His eyes flickered between you, Ada, and Aunt Pol, “Nothing that’s women’s business.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment. “This whole bloody enterprise was ‘women’s business’ while you boys were away at war. What’s changed?” Aunt Pol snapped.

“We came back,” Tommy answered honestly. With that, the meeting started to disperse and you let out a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You looked toward the door and saw Finn peaking in from the other room, much like you used to do when you were younger. He backed away as soon as you made eye contact, but you still found it cute. That is, until you were drawn back to reality.

“I still don’t like you sitting in on these meetings, Y/n. It really would be best if you were to stay with Finn,” Aunt Pol scolded. You sunk down in your seat and rolled your eyes again.

“Why must you insist on treating me like a child?” You asked.

“Because you are one,” she answered.

“Leave her alone Polly. She helped out with the business while we were all gone in the war, it’s only right she gets a seat at the table now,” Tommy said, inserting himself into the conversation.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you replied before turning your attention back to Aunt Pol. “I know I am young, but I am not a little kid like Finn. I am almost 18 now. You have to recognize that I am growing up, Aunt Polly. I deserve my seat at this table just as much as anyone else in this family.”

John and Arthur were snickering at you in the background. Aunt Pol hushed them with one dirty look. Her face did not soften when she looked back at you. “I know you want to help, but you have so many years ahead of you. You don’t have to be involved in the family business right now so why should you be? Why not wait as long as possible? You only picked up a gun for the first time last year and thank god you haven’t had to shoot anyone with it. You’re already in danger by being a Shelby, it only gets worse the more entangled you become with the business side of things.”

“I see your point Aunt Pol, but I’m not giving up my spot at this damn table after I just got it. You don’t give Ada a hard time and she’s sitting here.”

Ada shook her head. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“I will bring you into this if I damn well please,” you fired back. John was back to laughing, but you really weren’t sure what he was finding so funny about all of this. He was quieted down by a glare from Tommy.

“You are a lot younger than Ada. I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” Aunt Pol continued. “I have your best interest at heart, Y/n. I am only doing my best to look out for you in the long run.”

“I think leave it for now, Aunt Pol. This bickering is getting us nowhere,” Tommy interjected. Your voices hushed. Aunt Pol’s face had a look of annoyance written all over it. You were more frustrated than anything else. Everyone began to leave the room, the air a little heavier than before.

| < ♥️ > |

You were laying on your stomach across Ada’s bed, your legs kicking the air without a care in the world. Your journal was open in front of you and a pen rested in one of your hands. Ada sat at a small vanity on the other side of the room. She was carefully applying a bit of makeup. It was much later now and the sun was getting ready to set. You were forbidden from going out at night except to change houses, while Ada could do whatever she pleased. You guessed she was going to do something Tommy wouldn’t approve of, you could feel it in your bones. “Who are you getting all dolled up to see?” You asked. You knew you might have to push a little bit to actually get her to tell you anything, but you still thought it was worth a try to ask.

Ada finished applying lipstick before she even thought about answering you. “It’s none of your business who I’m going to see.” She popped her lips together to spread around the product. “Just go back to writing in your journal. I’m sure you’ve got your eyes set on some boy you’ve met out and about.”

You made a ‘tsk’ sound with your teeth. “Yeah right, like that’s at all what I’m writing about in my journal. The only one in this room with her eyes on boys, is you, Ada!” You giggled and slammed your journal shut. You walked over to her and placed your hands on her shoulders. You looked at her in the mirror, “Come on, who are you going to see?”

Ada rolled her eyes at you. “You can’t tell anyone, yeah?”

“I swear on my life, this stays between you and me!” You stuck out your pinkie and she looked up at you.

“Really? A pinkie promise?” Ada asked.

“Yes. I pinkie promise I won’t tell a single soul who you’re going to see.” Ada’s face contorted into a soft smile as she grabbed your pinkie with hers.

“Fine, fine. I’m going to see Freddie Thorne. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, but we’ve been keeping it a secret because you know how Tommy is. Not another soul can know. You hear me?”

“You can’t break a pinkie promise, Ada. It’s an unbreakable vow,” you replied before taking your hand back. “I never expected him to be your type, but good on you! I am glad you’ve found someone that makes you happy. I hope I find someone who makes me happy one day.”

You nearly mumbled the last part. You flopped back onto Ada’s bed, your back touching the mattress. “You will. You’re young yet, Y/n.”

“Why is there always talk of me being so young? Why can’t there be talk of how grown up I’ve gotten since the war?” You huffed, puffing every last bit of air out of your chest.

Ada stood up from her chair and laughed lightly. “You’ve grown a lot, but you’ve still got a lot of growing to do. Come on, I’ll walk you home on my way to meet Freddie.”

“You don’t think Tommy will find it suspicious that you’re all dressed up to drop me at home?” You asked curiously as you sat up and began to gather your things.

“Please, it’s too early for Tommy to be home. You’ll be lucky if he’s in before you fall asleep tonight,” She replied ruffling your hair. You knew she was right, Tommy was probably out at the pub. You were now old enough to set foot in bars, but your brothers all agreed that you should stay far away from all the bars in town except for the Garrison. Even with the exception, you were still only allowed to go there during the day time. This left you alone at night at home quite frequently since you lived with just Tommy. You’ve been living with him ever since he returned from war. You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if night time was sometimes scary and lonely. “Let’s go, I haven’t got all night,” Ada rushed you.

You quickly gathered the rest of your things and threw them into your bag. “Ready!”

“Okay, let’s get you home.”

| < ♥️ > |

You woke up the next day expecting a quiet, normal morning. What you weren’t expecting was Arthur coming to your door, covered in blood. You frantically gathered the family. You met in your usual meeting room as Tommy went to go get a bottle of rum. Ada and Aunt Pol were about to start tending to Arthur’s wounds, but you couldn’t bare to watch. You were picking at the skin around your fingernails and biting the softest part of your lip hard enough that it started to bleed. Aunt Pol was wrapping Arthur’s finger while you leaned against a wall. “John, wipe the blood out of his eye.”

“Since when did you give orders?” John asked.

“I’m a trained nurse,” Ada replied.

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts my face,” Arthur interjected. He was, in fact, laughing.

“I bloody am,” Ada continued.

“You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling,” John teased.

“Not before learning how to stop somebody from choking,” Ada answered.

“I’m not bloody choking, am I?” Arthur shot back.

“You will be when I wrap this cloth round your neck,” Ada said. The mood takes a downward shift as Tommy entered the room with a whole bottle of rum.

“Let me see him,” he said walking up to Arthur. “Hmm. Well, have this.” He gave Arthur the bottle he was holding. Arthur takes a long drink before Tommy says, “Give me that,” and sets the bottle on the table in front of him. He take a hot, wet cloth and begins to clean Arthur’s skin. You dig your nails into your palms at the sound of Arthur’s painful moans. “You’re alright.”

“He said Mr Churchill sent him to Birmingham,” Arthur started. “National interest, he said. He said there’d been a robbery. He said he wants us to help him.”

“We don’t help coppers,” John stated flatly.

“He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots like him. He said he wants us to be his eyes and ears. I told him we’d have a family meeting and a vote. Why not? We have no truck with communists. Or Fenians.” Arthur stared at Tommy. Tommy said nothing, but is clearly off put by the idea of helping the new copper that has come to town. You could tell something else about this situation was bothering him too, you just couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it was. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Polly, what is wrong with him lately?”

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s Chemists,” Aunt Pol joked. Tommy grabbed his coat and left the meeting before anyone could take a vote.

| < ♥️ > |

After everything in the morning with Arthur, you decided that you needed a drink. You were not one for drinking usually, that one was usually all your brothers, but something about this whole situation just screamed I need a glass of whsikey. So you found yourself in the Garrison in the late afternoon. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, so you were in the clear with Tommy’s rule about you only being there during the day. You walked in and all the eyes that turned toward the door quickly turned away, all except the eyes of a new barmaid that you did not recognize. You heard Harry, the owner of the bar, tell the new barmaid that whatever you wanted was on the house. You smiled politely at her as you pulled up a seat at the bar. You ordered a whiskey sour from her and as she handed you your drink you asked for her name. “Grace. My name is Grace.”

You smiled back at her and took a sip of your drink. “Y/n, Y/n Shelby. Lovely to meet you.”

| < ♥️ > |

Somewhere between the several whiskey sours you had and your new relationship with Grace you found yourself standing on one of the bar tables with her, singing. It was something that you use to do in school, before the war, but hadn’t done in such a long time. You were grinning such a wide grin that your cheeks were beginning to hurt.

“I am just a young girl.

I have just come over,

Over from the country where they do things big,

And amongst the boys I have got myself a lover,

And since I have a lover,

I don’t care a fig.

The boy I love is up in the gallery

The boy I love is looking–”

You stopped singing when you noticed Tommy come in the door with your brothers. You suddenly felt very exposed standing high up on a table.

“At me

Can’t you see him standing there?

Waving his handkerchief

As merry as a robin that sings on the tree.” Grace finished the song by herself. You felt bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore words. The grin was gone from your rosey cheeks. It was replaced by a sorry frown aimed toward your shoes.

Harry walked over to Tommy, “We haven’t had singing in here since the war.”

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” Tommy spoke plainly. “Y/n, it’s dark outside. Time to go home for the night.” You nodded. Tommy walked over and gave you a hand off the table. Your feet being on the ground again felt like you were standing a boat. The alcohol in your system was way more than you were use to. “Jesus how much did you drink?” Tommy mumbled. You tossed some “sorrys” in his direction, but he wasn’t listening. He just headed out the door to take you home.

| < ♥️ > |

Monday came before you even realized it had. You spent the rest of your weekend recovering from the time you had at the bar. You were feeling bright and well Monday afternoon and were hanging around where your family normally does business when Arthur came yelling for Tommy. “It bloody won!” Tommy is unphased by Arthur’s sudden appearance in front of him. You were sitting across from Tommy, just present to take in the whole interaction. “Monaghan Boy bloody won!”

“And word will spread. So next time we do the powder trick it won’t just be the Garrison that’ll bet on the horse, it’ll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it we’ll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we are ready, the horse will lose.” Tommy snapped the book in front of him shut. “Think about it.” You and Arthur looked at each other as Tommy left the room. “Bloody hell.”

-TO BE CONTINUED-

_____________________________________

TAGS: @tatumrileyslover @rubybinxx @haleypearce

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sapphicneige · 15 days

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You're a Slut, Bea... A Gay Slut - Chapter 1: demanding my mind be set free (from wanting the things i don’t need)

Summary:

There is a secret test, hidden within the SAT. This test does not measure a student’s aptitude at reading, writing, and arithmetic. It measures a student’s innate ability to lie, cheat, fight, and kill. Those who score well are recruited into a secret paramilitary academy. Some call them seductresses. Some call them spies. Fools call them innocent. They call themselves N.U.N.S.

(Or, the Warrior Nun D.E.B.S. AU)

Words: 3,455 Main Relationships: AvaTrice Rating: M

Fic:

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #fanfic #debs #debs au

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anulithots · 7 months

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Noorie's JJK analysis's/ screaming

You cannot keep me contained. My overthinking brain is buzzing.

(all sfw! This asexual likes to find as much fluff as possible.... but stuff tends to go over my head so I might accidently reblog a thing or two. Sorry about that <3)

Analysis

Most of my essays are here

Gojo the analyst

SatoSugu and how they support each other

Ao No Sumika - "Will we meet again?"

Gojo and Geto being compliments in an ironic way

Yuji Itadori and his non-existent coping mechanisms

Satoru Gojo... is there anything you don't have?

Gojo and his teasing

Gojo and Geto teachers AU

Gojo, being alone, and loneliness

Itadori is also selfish... and Gojo is compassionate.

Gojo will take care of it. Don't worry

Chapter 236

Jujutsu Kaisen Meta analysis

Would SatoSugu ever get back together

Itadori the sacrifice

Why Gojo and Geto understand each other... and no one else.

If JJK had a happy ending

Fav Analysis (not by me)

If Geto loved Gojo, why didn't he try to recruit him? by @ellionwrites

How much Geto canonically loved Gojo by @ellionwrites

Who the hell is Gojo Satoru by @fushiglow

Kenjaku's purpose as a literary device by @justrustandstardust

It's only them by @justrustandstardust

SatoSugu as celestial bodies (red and blue) by @justrustandstardust

He knew when he left by @mylee-sketches

Yuji Itadori's... not so healthy tendencies. by @epickiya722

everything by @glo7to3

Yuji's past by @glo7to3

Yuiji and Megumi's breaking points by @uriekukistan

chapter 261 by @uriekukistan

Yuji and Yuta's teachers by @florasuno

To read

Chap 236

mental health

Fanart

Gojo's wallpaper (crack comic with my sibling @mylee-sketches)

Umbrella

Lousy Personalities

Karaoke (crack comic #2)

Neurodivergent Satoru Gojo

Slice of life ideas

Itadori gets a demon dog plushie for Fushiguro

'I'm Satoru Gojo because of you, Suguru'

KFC breakup

Edits

"You were a wonderful experience"

"You're holy to me"

if JJK had slice of life episodes

(cannon compliant)

Itadori's sense of style

Gojo and Geto insult teachers together

AUs

If Kenjaku possessed Gojo instead of Geto

Headcannons

Aspec Satosugu

Fav fics

Carry me home It's so ridiculously good. Timeline suguru-centric fix-it-fic that doubles as a character deep dive. It's absolutely amazing.

5 Times Gojo Satoru Tries to Rizz Up Geto Suguru and 1 Time He (Kind Of) Succeeds by @justrustandstardust. Really funny. It made the asexual try to hold in laughter. Need I say more. Also prose style and the pacing and character voices are all really really good.

April pink cute satosugu fluff

Urban Privilege Nobara and Gojo bonding. Need I say more.

Embers SatoSugu but post-shibyua and full of painful nostalgia.

like best friends do aromantic satosugu. Mind the tags, for it gets... close to being nsfw? But... aromantic satosugu. It was wonderous.

Two-headed Calf Post breakup but pre vol. 0. What could've been. Absolute pain.

here and where you are - cityboys - 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga) [Archive of Our Own] REALLY REALLY REALLY SAD Itafushi. Alternate Shibuya timeline but somehow even sadder than cannon, believe it or not. It's a 'everyone gets a happy ending' but in the worst way possible.

Fav JJK posts that make me ~feel things~

Suguruuuuu whyyy

___________________

also also, specific JJK things that give me happy sparkles (I like pain):

SatoSugu but they transcend labels and to me they have a queer platonic flavor to them. (Romantic, Queer platonic, best friends, soulmates, everything. They are everything. But I like Queer Platonic for them quite a lot! They feel like Queer platonic to me <3)

Itafushi but I flipflop between fluff ship and best dynamic in history, or both.

Itadori and Fusiguro's their differing morals and perspectives on a complex situation/circumstances.

Maki and Mai angst.

Found family Gojo and Tokyo trio.

Tokyo trio in general.

Itadori and his sensei's

Itadori in general

SHOKO MY ASTHETIC CRUSSHHHh

Geto's children

The Junpei arc

Cursed womb arc

Maki and Nobara

Inumaki

Nanami and Hibara

Megumi and his sister

Found family Gojo and the Fushiguro children

everything. Literally everything except for Mei mei and the dub.

Want to blabber about JJK with me? Feel free to ask! <3

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muffinlance · 7 months

Text

Towards the Sun Related Work: a bit of earned loyalty by Freddy_T_who_Never_Wont_not_be

General Kuzon of Shijuichi's rise from a fresh-out-of-military-academy Major of a small company in a small division of fresh colony recruits to one of the Fire Lord's military advisors was not entirely accidental. You couldn't get to where hed gotten in three years through luck alone.

At least, that's what he told his reflection every morning.

And now he was serving in the Fire Lord's court.

#Absolutely in love with this character well done #avatar the last airbender #atla #Towards the Sun #Zuko

79 notes · View notes

papakhan · 3 months

Text

A Khan’s death shroud. But rather than the white linen of the Followers, the Khans laid him to rest with his weapons. Shrouding the dead was something Luke had done many times at the Fort. It was a four-man job. To clean and dress the body. Luke imagined Jessup and McMurphy tucking a bottlecap into his cold palm, wrapping dead fingers around a knife that wasn't theirs. Kneeling to button his coat, like one might with a child on a cold night. He should have found it morbid. The thought of accomplices to his murder playing with his corpse like a doll after his death should have been grotesque. But he couldn’t help but feel cared for. Just the same for all the patients he had wrapped in white linen. The courier gig was supposed to be a break from the stress of emergency medicine. Luke Thorn is a man of science and healing, a man who knows the cold grip of death.

Hiii this is my latest fic and the First to star my courier. Jessup Companion Recruitment Fic!!

CW: Descriptions of death and deadly medical disease, medical procedures, blood and gore

Mirrored right here and on Toyhouse [6.6k words]

It was difficult to climb the rubble that was once Boulder City with hands raised and palms open, but when walking into an active hostage situation, one should not take any chances. Luke Thorn stumbled on the crumbling concrete and landed hard on his feet, the slap of his boots echoed through the broken buildings. A Khan with a hefty-looking automatic rifle shifted uneasily behind the twisted remains of an old-world bus stop.

This was not a subject on the Follower’s Emergency Medical Training Programme, which Luke was starting to believe was an oversight. The Khan had her gun trained on him and watched him. Luke cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. ‘Hello’ felt redundant, but what else was there to say? ‘Good morning are you the fine fellows holding some soldiers hostage who may or may not have also shot me in the head some weeks back?’ Don’t be ridiculous.

Luke licked his lips. The Khan had an eyepatch, something that should have made her distinctive. Still, she didn’t look especially familiar… but nobody did these days. As it turned out, taking a couple of bullets to the brain scrambled a few senses. But not so bad that Luke couldn’t see that the Khan was growing nervous. And nervous raiders with heavy weaponry only increased his chances of being shot.

“Uh-- Hi!” Luke said, his voice pitching with his own apprehension, “Can I talk to the guy in charge, please?”

The Khan squinted at him, “Who are you?”

“Luke Thorn, EMT. I’m a Follower of the Apocalypse,” Used to be, at least.

The Khan glanced away and towards a nearby building. If Luke had to guess, she was exchanging quiet words with another Khan. And if she was so confident to look away, there must be another Khan with a gun trained on him somewhere unseen. Comforting.

“Come closer,” She said, eyes on him again, “Keep your hands up.”

Luke picked a careful path through the rubble. He eyed the buildings, looking for more Khans. One in the doorway, two on the roof, and another two further in the building. The last pair weren’t paying attention to him, they watched someone else. Hostages, if Luke had to guess.

Bus-stop-Khan rose to her feet, her gun still pointed at Luke’s chest. She tossed her head in a direction and Luke walked in it, towards the only building still mostly intact. Inside was lit with dim lanterns burning oil. Years ago, this place was probably a shop, but now all that was left were countertops and bare shelves. Glass crunched under Luke’s boots as he was ushered inside. Behind the counter, a dirty curtain separated the once shop from what Luke could only assume were the storage rooms. It looked like the place had been hit with a bomb, and as far as Luke knew, it had been.

“Jessup,” The Khan hissed into the dim, “We got a Follower here.”

The tense stillness Luke had become accustomed to shattered. Someone groped at the curtains and whipped them away. Jessup, the man who stumbled out was all limbs, tall and trim, with pale freckled skin and bright ginger hair. He stared at Luke with the wide eyes of a wild animal. There were dark rings under those eyes, and what had once been a mohawk had particularly collapsed, some of it laying slick against Jessup’s forehead. An old instinct whispered to Luke, telling him to run. He ignored it.

“What the fuck,” Jessup croaked, “You’re that courier…”

Ah.

“Were you the one who shot me?”

Jessup scrunched up his face and his lips parted in a sneer, revealing crooked white teeth, “I didn’t shoot you. That was that snake, Benny.”

Benny. That was the name Manny had mentioned.

“Listen it’s-- fine. I don’t have a thing for faces anymore, just wanted to check I wasn’t talking to my murderer. Just-- an accomplice.”

Jessup had a difficult face to read, or maybe that was just the head injury. His lips formed a thin line as he squinted at Luke across the room.

“I didn’t know you were a Follower,” He said, "Wouldn't of taken the job if I did."

The Followers and Khans were friends once. Luke had not been part of the medics sent to train the raiders in advance first aid and minor surgery. Too many emergency cases back at the Fort. But he knew Ezekiel, the man in charge of the relief efforts. Ezekiel had been most understanding of Luke's departure from the Followers. As enthusiastic as Ezekiel was about his job, even he felt the NCR's stranglehold on the region was beginning to impact their work.

"I don't wear the coat these days," Luke muttered, "Let's forget about it for now. I want to help you guys out of here."

“NCR knows our terms,” Jessup growled, “Look, I got a guy hurt back here. If he doesn’t get help he’ll die. What else am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll help him,” Luke felt the words come from his mouth before he could stop them.

There was a glassy shine to Jessup’s hazelnut eyes, Luke could see that even in the dim light of the broken room. He blinked rapidly and pursed his lips tight. Looked at Luke then looked away. Luke knew the feeling well. Knew it every day he worked in Old Mormon Fort. Stressed. Overwhelmed. About to break.

“It’ll be okay,” Luke said, his hands still by his head, “I’ll help you.”

Finding a vein on the other Khan’s arm was as easy as breathing. McMurphy, the injured Khan, was a young man, strong. Good arms and good veins. Even in the dim light, Luke could feel where he was meant to go. Back in the Fort, he’d have another with him, a nurse or EMT, someone else to prepare the drugs. But he didn’t have that luxury here, just one anxious and suspicious raider hovering beside him. Luke slid the needle into McMurphy’s arm.

He ran through medical checks in his mind. Airways, breathing, circulation. The first two were fine, the third. He’d been shot in the abdomen, close range. Jessup said the bullet came out the other side. They’d dressed the wound well and Luke didn’t dare disturb the white gauze. Could be anything. A high heart rate and low blood pressure indicated internal bleeding. Haemorrhage at best, perforated bowel at worst. At least with a haemorrhage, he could do something. And if he couldn’t the death would be quick, merciful, like falling asleep. Especially with the morphine the Khans had already given McMurphy. A perforated bowel though? Death by sepsis. A slow killer. Faeces would leak into the body, contaminating other organs. The mind would give way to infection, boil the body alive trying to fight it. Luke had seen it before, smelt the death of it. He dressed the cannula and reached for his bag.

He had an IV bag of fluid meant for someone else. Julie would understand. Why are you doing this? He connected the line and held it to Jessup.

“Hold this above your head,” Luke said.

Jessup did as he was told, looking for all the world like he had surrendered. Hands by his head, fear in his eyes. Luke caught him glance up at the bag, squint at the words on it. But he didn’t question. Didn’t fight. He watched the drip, drip, drip of the IV.

“It’ll make your arm feel cold,” Luke warned a barely conscious McMurphy. He was going through the motions, a dance he’d done a hundred times before. Head injury or not, some things you did not forget.

Luke rummaged in his bag again. Say it was a perforation. A cover of antibiotics wouldn’t save him, but it’d give them time. Time for what exactly? Luke didn’t think that far ahead. The man deserved a chance. All of them did. Luke’s fingers curled around a cold vial of powdered antibiotics. Why are you doing this?

“Has he had penicillin before?” Luke didn’t expect an answer.

“What?” Jessup asked, then shook his head, “I mean, yeah. I think. He broke his leg when we were kids, n’ the bone poked out his skin. They gave him some shit. Penicillin, I think.”

Of course, the Khans and their drugs. Penicillin was simple enough to synthesise. It was an equal shot that this vial could be from Red Rock or Boneyard. Just the same as the morphine syringes littered on the floor. Luke shook his head. He tried not to think about how Jessup and McMurphy knew each other from childhood.

“Right, good, because I don’t have anything else.” That was bad practice. Lots of people were allergic to penicillin. But what could you do?

Luke mixed the penicillin with saline and shook the syringe. A yellowish goop formed inside as it sloshed and rolled. He pinched the IV line and pushed in his antibiotics. Give it slow, is what the textbooks said. Give it fast, screamed the world.

“Why are you doing this?”

A question Luke thought he’d heard before. He frowned, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Jessup said, quick like he was afraid Luke would vanish into thin air, “No, I just-- Don’t get it.”

Luke didn’t have an answer, not a real one. Not one that made sense. Why? Because a long time ago Luke learnt that life was precious. Because no one deserved to die like this. Because he hated the NCR. Because this was the only way the Khans would accept their terms. He gave the answer he thought most acceptable, “I’m a Follower.”

Jessup wrinkled his nose and his grip on the IV bag wavered, “Followers left us to rot before now, that ain’t it.”

Penicillin was best given over four minutes while watching carefully for any adverse reactions. Not that Luke had any adrenaline for an allergic reaction.

“I can’t leave when folks are hurting,” Luke said, watching McMurphy’s breathing, “Can’t ever turn my back. It’s why I left them.”

“Left who?”

Luke glanced at Jessup and knew that he knew. Jessup’s lips pressed into a line again. His eyes looked like glass marbles. Shiny and smooth. He was wary. Of course he was. Luke felt like he had no control over his mouth. He’d always bickered, always kicked back before. But never talked himself in circles like this before. He decided it best to answer the unasked question.

“I left because-- I couldn’t take it anymore. The stress got to me. But I know what I’m doing.”

Jessup was quiet. He watched McMurphy. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Luke could talk himself into believing that breathing was steadying. That IV fluids and antibiotics would save a life that night. But fate was never so kind. Luke eyed the bandages poking out under McMurphy’s leathers, blood kissed through the layers of off-white.

“We buried you like a Khan, you know,” Jessup said.

Luke shuddered. What was the saying? Like someone walked over his grave? His eyes trailed from McMurphy to Jessup. Those eyes were on him again, shiny and wet. Luke looked away and watched his antibiotics.

“How so?” He asked.

“Knife in your hand, gun on your hip, caps in your pocket and one in your palm. We untied you too. And I buttoned your coat,” Jessup’s voice sounded dreamlike as if recounting hazy memories. He huffed a humourless laugh, “It’s so you have shit with you in case you come back.”

Luke’s frown only deepened, “Do your dead do that often?”

“Once. It was an old story.”

A Khan’s death shroud. But rather than the white linen of the Followers, the Khans laid him to rest with his weapons. Shrouding the dead was something Luke had done many times at the Fort. It was a four-man job. To clean and dress the body. Luke imagined Jessup and McMurphy tucking a bottlecap into his cold palm, wrapping dead fingers around a knife that wasn't theirs. Kneeling to button his coat, like one might with a child on a cold night. He should have found it morbid. The thought of accomplices to his murder playing with his corpse like a doll after his death should have been grotesque. But he couldn’t help but feel cared for. Just the same for all the patients he had wrapped in white linen. Even those who came to the Fort with no one, those who died with Luke as their only company. He couldn’t help but feel warm hands on his cold skin. Feel the attention and care of the Khans who thought of their stories and prepared him for the cold earth like he was one of them.

“We should have just scared you. That’s what I wanted to do, what I told Benny to do. Rob you, scare you, let you go. But Benny wanted you dead. Called you a loose end. Should have known he’d think we were loose ends too.”

Luke didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Nothing sensible. Nothing that made sense. He pushed through the rest of the antibiotics and unpinched the IV line. The fluid dripped through again.

“That’s all I can do for now.”

Jessup chewed his lip.

"So what happens now? Is he gonna live?"

Probably not.

Luke sucked on his teeth, "He'll still need a clinic, at least. Even just to stabilise him before Old Mormon Fort-- or Red Rock."

"There was a doctor in Novac," Jessup said.

Novac was a lot closer than any Follower outposts Luke knew off-hand. In theory, it was the best idea. But if Ada Stratus had been a doctor anywhere Luke had worked, he probably would have strangled her. Medical know-how was only half the story, but no one should trust a doctor who couldn't respect her patients. If they took McMurphy to her, Luke would probably find himself performing surgery on Manny Vargas' kitchen table.

Surgery was a bad idea at this stage. If it wasn't a perforation, cutting into him would only risk more bleeding. And with Ada Stratus at the helm, probably a risk of her slicing into his bowel. Luke looked down at McMurphy's dressing. IV fluids could bulk out blood lost from a haemorrhage, but they were no replacement for a blood transfusion. Luke couldn't see himself trusting any blood products from Ada either. He would have to go with them to keep the so-called doctor from doing anything dangerous.

"You guys know your blood types?"

Jessup peeled back McMurphy's jacket. There were off-white patches stitched to the inside, each scrawled with seemingly random information. A date, some map coordinates, and some words Luke didn't recognise. One square of fabric proudly read "AB+". Luke thanked whichever Follower doctor or medic had the patience to teach the Khans drugs and medicine.

"Think it's that," Jessup said sheepishly, tapping the square. He pulled back his own jacket and read what Luke assumed was his own stitched patch, "Mine ain't the same."

"Doesn't matter, your friend is a universal receiver. He can have any blood."

"Great, he can have mine," Jessup looked hopeful, half a smile on his face, "Let's do it now."

"Let's get out of a hostage situation first," Luke said.

Jessup's face fell and his eyes darted around, remembering himself.

"I ain't surrendering, Murph' needs help and that soldier will let him die."

"He needs to get out of this building, soldier or not," Staying here was a death sentence, but giving up your only bargaining chip probably felt like one too, "I helped you now you help me. Let me take the hostages and I'll negotiate with the NCR."

Trust me, please. Don't make this any harder.

Jessup's mouth formed that thin line again. His fingers drummed on the IV bag. Luke watched him consider it, weigh up his options. His pink tongue licked his chapped lips. He watched McMurphy's breathing. Please.

"All right, take the hostages," Jessup hissed through his teeth. His brown eyes looked hard at Luke, "You better make sure NCR keeps their end of the deal, though."

If they didn't, those fluids and antibiotics would have gone to waste, Luke thought but did not speak.

“I repeat. All troops, stand down,” Lieutenant Monroe’s voice crackled through the radio one of the troopers wore as Luke passed by them again, “Let the Khans pass with the Follower.”

The troops grumbled and glared out from under their helmets but they held their guns loose, just waiting for an excuse to draw them. At least they were obedient. Monroe had been more reasonable than Luke had expected, but at the same time all too quick to dismiss the Khan's situation. Sometimes it’s better to call a win a win and Luke was grateful Monroe understood that.

McMurphy was in no state to walk-- or really even be upright-- but right now Luke and the Khans did not possess the luxury of choice. He was awake enough to keep his head up. But whether from the morphine or the blood loss, not awake enough to keep his legs moving. Luke, with IV bag in hand, trotted beside Jessup and bus-stop-Khan, who Luke found was called Destiny, who half carried, half dragged McMurphy through the rubble.

Half of all bowel perforations end in death, even with treatment. Luke had been taught long ago that if someone was to die, they should be made comfortable, not dragged halfway across the wasteland. Even if it wasn’t a perforation, all this movement could dislodge the clots holding in blood, and he could haemorrhage again. Luke hadn’t thought of that before insisting they move. But he couldn’t turn his back. Part of him always fought. Always hoped.

Novac was a three-hour walk but a half-hour drive. The Khans had their motorbikes, the things they were famed for. The how and why of their ability to outpace Luke and his delivery of the platinum chip. According to Jessup, they were hidden just before the 188.

“Benny said he wanted to walk from there, be less conspicuous, he said,” Jessup huffed, spitting every symbol of conspicuous, “Didn’t get why. Now I know. Was so he could shoot McMurphy and run without us catching him.”

“He’s fast?” Luke asked.

“Didn’t need to be,” Jessup said, adjusting McMurphy’s arm around his shoulders as they walked, “He fired at those soldiers and ran at them like he was running from us. Like we’d fired at them.”

Luke did not want to admit Benny was smart but even he had to admit there was some serious forethought in that move. Conniving might be a better word. It seemed he was a little too reliant on the killing power of a 9mm pistol. Seemed to have a little too many enemies left alive.

Not that Luke felt like Benny’s enemy. He couldn’t even remember his face. But he had to find him. Even if it was just to ask him ‘why?’. Why was his life so meaningless? So easy to throw away? Why did so many have to die for some fancy old-world collectable? And then maybe he’d shake him. Or slap him. Or kill him. Luke did not enjoy the thought but it crept into his mind regardless.

“Bet he’s back at the Strip by now, laughing at me,” Jessup growled.

Being left unable to recognise Benny was a significant disadvantage, no matter what Luke planned on doing with him when they finally crossed paths again. If Benny recognised him, there was no telling what he’d do. Having someone around who knew his face, knew not to trust him, would be helpful.

“I’m going after Benny,” Luke said, eyeing Jessup for a reaction, “I’d appreciate the company.”

Jessup barely reacted at all, eyes hard and straight ahead, “One thing at a time. I ain’t losing another brother to that snake.”

Luke squeezed the last of the fluid through the IV line, trying not to feel the fool for being spurned, “Alright, that’s fair enough. I’ll stick with you till he’s stable but after that…”

“We’ll talk,” Jessup said, “Revenge can always wait.”

The rest of Jessup’s crew crowded up ahead in the shade of a burnt-out old world building. Luke counted six all together, including Jessup, McMurphy and Destiny. They hauled their motorbikes out from under covers and sheets of metal and other impromptu hiding places. Luke was relieved to spot one of the bikes had a sidecar.

“If the NCR found these, they’d confiscate them.” One of the Khans said to Luke, as they together shuffled McMurphy into the sidecar, “Weapons of war, they call them.”

It was a sentiment Luke could understand. The 80s ruled Utah with these machines for a reason. Luke knew very well. He’d personally felt the fear the Khans evoked by chasing down targets.

Like the NCR’s vertibirds or power armour. It didn’t justify confiscating them, but Luke could understand why.

“How you holding up, ‘Murph?” Jessup asked.

McMurphy adjusted his position, trying to get comfortable, and his arms shook with the effort. Luke winced. A sheen of sweat on McMurphy’s skin shone under the sun. He didn’t look well. But he was awake, at least.

“What’s going on?” McMurphy managed, his voice small and hollow. Luke hoped he was just confused from drifting in and out of consciousness, and not the start of a septic infection.

“We’re going back to Novac,” Jessup threw a long leg over the bike’s leather saddle and pounded his foot against the kickstart. The motorbike roared to life and Luke felt the rumble deep in his chest.

And just like that, he was back. Back to that night. Luke had just spotted the humble glow of Goodsprings in the distance when he heard that rumble in the dark. The distant growl of engines creeping closer. He’d panicked. He’d run. But running from a machine like that was always futile. Easier to outrun a charging bull. The slap of his boots on the ground was drowned out by the roaring engines of the Khans bike. Then it was the cemetery. And then…

“Hey doctor guy, you with us?”

Jessup stared at him from behind the handlebars. Luke blinked. He had half a kind to correct him. Tell Jessup and the other Khans that he wasn't a doctor, that he was more like a glorified paramedic or emergency nurse. But he knew that was no comfort. No reason make these people doubt him. Especially considering what they'd already done to him.

But Luke thought of his grave again. His death shroud. He chewed his lip.

Luke had never ridden a motorbike before. He’d straddled a horse before and had sat in the back of a jeep once. This felt like a blend of the two. The engine shuddered into his thighs as the machine roared beneath him. The Mojave whipped past with the wind as they flew across the baked earth, he and Destiny. Luke squinted hard into the sharp winds, wishing he’d pulled the goggles out of his bag to better enjoy the view. Though he wasn’t sure if ‘enjoy’ would be the right word. He held onto Destiny even though she had told him not to. But what else was there to hold onto? Luke tried at least to be tasteful and hold onto her jacket rather by his fingers than wrap his hands around her waist.

It was a rush he'd never felt before. No sound but the wind. No smell but the air. Nothing to see except the blur of yellow orange earth and blue sky all around. And it was over before Luke had time to process it.

The air he’d felt on the bike couldn’t have been more different than the air caught inside Manny Vargas’ apartment. Hot and suffocating. It fell on Luke like a blanket the second he’d stepped inside. The fan spinning lazily overhead did nothing to alleviate any of the five people inside. Luke felt the sticky warmth of his sweat-soaked shirt begin to stick to his back.

Manny Vargas had spotted them through his scope. Heard them too most likely. Luke watched the way Manny fumbled with his keys in panic, tossing the door open and ushering them all inside. He had insisted on McMurphy taking his bed, tried to comfort him with fluttering, loving hands while Jessup ran for the doctor. Like with Jessup and McMurphy sharing a childhood, Luke tried not to think about the way Manny had cupped McMurphy's face. Luke politely ignored the tears Manny scrubbed from his eyes. These men were close. All of them.

When the doctor arrived, Manny ushered most of the Khans outside. Left Luke alone with McMurphy, Jessup, and Doctor Straus' entourage.

“I mean Jesus, he looks half dead,” Ada Straus said, “This is gonna be expensive, you know that, right?”

Of course, the conversation did nothing to make Luke sweat any less. Jessup sat beside McMurphy, sprawled out in Manny’s bed, “How much?”

“One hundred caps, at least.”

“You haven’t even looked at him,” Luke hissed.

“I’m looking at him right now!” Ada threw her hands out, “It’s gonna be a lot of work! And a lot of my supplies!”

“As I’ve already explained: he’s been shot, he’s cannulated, and he’s had fluids, antibiotics and analgesia. He is of a universal blood group and we have one willing blood donor,” Luke explained, rapidly losing patience, “That’s at least half of what you’d be using.”

“Yeah, that hundred caps was a discount! I was gonna charge you two hundred!”

Luke rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt. Ada’s two guards shifted uncomfortably in the small room. While Manny had insisted that the other Khans give everyone some space, the room was still cramped with furniture and spare mattresses. The heat was starting to get to all of them.

“Just-- look at the wound and tell me if he needs surgery or not.” If the answer was ‘yes’ Luke would encourage the Khans to take McMurphy elsewhere for the procedure.

Ada folded her arms across her chest, “Second opinions cost seventy-five caps.”

“Are you serious?” Luke snapped.

“You better stop fucking with us, lady,” Jessup spoke through gritted teeth.

Luke watched Ada’s guards exchange a wary look behind her back. The younger of the two looked no older than twenty. His scruffy facial hair and pockmarked skin fought valiantly to make him look older, but it was clear to Luke that he was a teenager. The other guard could have been four times the boy’s age. Old but skilled, Luke did not doubt that between the two of them, they could protect Ada well against whatever got past Manny’s sniper scope. But here in this room, they were on edge. Luke could see that. And it didn’t take him long to realise why. Luke’s eyes trailed from them to Jessup, hunched over the bed like a coiled snake, glaring out at Ada from under a scowl.

Ada was undeterred, “I’m not fucking with you. Frankly, you two are fucking with me! I’ve gotta make a living here.”

Luke glanced at Jessup. There was a gun strapped to his thigh, some shotgun-type thing, and another thrown over his back. His hand was a fist on the bed. Fighting Ada would be pointless. It would destroy Manny Vargas’ reputation, for one, and if Jessup killed her, it would mean the town would lose its one medical provider. No matter how deplorable Luke believed her to be, stripping the town of the one person who could treat radiation sickness and seemingly supplied the med-x would be a bad idea.

“Now let’s all just-- calm down,” Luke attempted his best Julie Farkas impression, raising his hands passively.

Ada huffed through her nose. Jessup did not move. The guards didn’t either.

“I’ll give you the caps just please--”

“You ain’t giving her shit,” Jessup was on his feet and across the room in less than a second.

The young guard raised his gun in warning. Jessup smacked the pistol from his hands. A shot fired harmlessly into Manny’s carpet. Jessup loomed over Ada as her guards backed into the door. The older guard held his arm protectively in front of the younger.

Jessup had been sat down so long Luke had forgotten how tall he was. How his spiked hair only made him look bigger. Luke bit the inside of his cheek as he stood, heart in his throat, unsure of what to do or say to de-escalate things.

“You guys alright in there?” Manny’s voice drifted from outside, alerted by the gunfire.

“Fine,” Jessup said.

He leaned down to Ada until his face was inches from hers and growled.

“If he dies because you didn’t do shit, I’m gonna kill you.”

Luke believed it. He didn't want Ada dead but he believed Jessup. He would kill her.

Ada gaped at him. Luke could see her mind working. Watched her squirm under the Khan's gaze. She glanced in the direction of her guards. Back at Jessup. Worked her mouth but made no sound. Evidently, the guards were not paid enough to mess with Khans.

"Jesus Christ, fine!" Ada said, "I'll take a look."

Luke chewed his lip as Jessup stepped aside, a silent order for Ada to move. She shot a glare at Luke that he barely registered. Then she approached McMurphy on the bed. Jessup followed, stalking behind with a hand on his shotgun. Ada gingerly raised her hands, flexed her fingers and reached for McMurphy's skin. Then she stopped herself, pulling back and digging in her bag. She produced a dusty pair of gloves and Luke remembered himself.

"There's a sink," Luke said.

Ada sighed. She shot a pointed look at Jessup, who swung his head towards Luke and then back to Ada.

"Go on then, I ain't gonna shoot you."

Yet. Luke felt the silent threat.

Ada washed her hands in Manny’s sink and Luke followed suit. Jessup loomed over Ada as she worked.

“I’m gonna poke you,” She said to McMurphy, who squinted suspiciously back at her, “So don’t let your friend kill me.”

McMurphy was more awake than he had been earlier, perhaps from the morphine wearing off. He lifted his arm and peeled back his jacket, presenting the bloody gauze to her.

Ada prodded at McMurphy’s skin, pushing from the wound at first and then moving closer to it. McMurphy groaned when she pressed close to his wound. Luke knew what she was doing. Feeling for swelling, distended abdomens filled with blood or the contents of one’s intestines could be felt from the outside. As she worked, Luke felt compelled to do something too. He pulled his manual blood pressure kit from his bag and started performing his vital signs. He wrapped the cuff around McMurphy’s arm and hooked the stethoscope into his ears before pumping the cuff full of air and taking his measurements. McMurphy’s blood pressure was higher than before, so the fluids had done their job at least for now. His heart rate still ran high, but small steps.

“How are you feeling, McMurphy?” Luke asked.

“Like shit,” McMurphy answered.

More aware of himself than he had been before, in Luke’s medical opinion. He felt that he could safely rule out any shock-induced confusion for the time being. Ada poked around some more before peeling carefully back the blood-stained dressing. Luke held his breath, waiting for blood to start gushing. But to his relief, the wound did nothing more than ooze a sticky deep red of half-congealed blood. Ada raised the gauze to her face and inspected it, then lowered her head to the wound.

“I don’t think it’s a perf.” She said, leaning away to dig through her bag.

“How so?”

“Doesn’t smell like shit.”

Luke had to admit, he hadn’t considered that line of thinking before. He wasn’t entirely sure it was accurate, but it made sense in the moment.

“That’s good?” McMurphy asked, staring at the ceiling.

“It’s one thing. The bullet could have hit something else. A kidney, an artery, maybe even the spleen if yours is in a weird place.”

Kidneys and spleens hadn’t been on Luke’s mind either. He chewed his lip.

Ada produced a penlight from her bag and shone it above McMurphy’s wound, “What kinda peashooter was this?”

“9mm.” Jessup groused.

Ada dabbed at the blood by the bullet wound and McMurphy hissed through his teeth and batted her away. Ada tutted.

“Would you just man up, please?”

Luke jumped in before Ada could say anything else she might regret, “Don’t you have any local?”

Ada stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, “Local what?”

Luke stared back at her incredulously, “Local anaesthetic?”

“Oh. For an examination?”

It was going to be a long night.

A full course of antibiotics; some stitches or staples; tranexamic acid; some kind of scan; and possible surgery. Dr Ada Strauss’ prognosis and recommendations were equal parts helpful and unhelpful. Luke was just grateful that she didn’t further anger the Khans by asking for payment. She had more antibiotics and some tranexamic acid, which Manny Vargas paid for. But McMurphy still needed a clinic. Not Luke and not Ada. A real doctor and a real clinic. The Followers were their only choice.

And of course, the Khans did it without question. Luke had to admire the commitment to their kin, if nothing else.

At this point, Luke felt it was his duty to see it all through. Though he desperately did not want to visit the Old Mormon Fort. The New Vegas Medical Clinic was closer, anyhow.

They’d arrived before sundown, their path illuminated by the fire-orange sky. Doctor Usanagi needed no prompting before getting to work. Questions of payment were answered with a handwave and “we’ll figure it out later.”

Now the sun had set and the sky was alight once more with the glow of Vegas’ city. An artificial, glaring light that cast harsh shadows all around. The stars up above struggled to gain purchase against the unwavering neon city.

McMurphy had been in the theatre for an hour by the time Luke found Jessup. Shrouded by the dark of night, he sat cross-legged on the roof of the clinic, a squashed cigarette pressed between his lips. White smoke curled from his mouth and floated up to the sky as Jessup picked at his leather boots with the tip of his knife.

“I shoulda listened to you,” Jessup called down from the roof, and it took Luke a moment to realise he was the one being spoken to, “About that Novac doctor.”

“Oh,” Luke said. What else could he say? ‘Told you so’ hardly felt prudent, “Hey, we’re here now, right? That’s what matters.”

Jessup snorted.

There was no response save for the gentle ‘tink’ of Jessup’s knife as he picked a stone from the sole of his boot. Luke waited before he realised Jessup was done talking. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, trying to think of something comforting to tack on.

“Doctor Usanagi is a great doctor. I used to work with her.”

“Still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

Luke wasn’t any closer to the answer himself. He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s the right thing to do.”

Jessup unfurled himself, plucking the cigarette from his lips and letting his long legs hang over the roof of the clinic. In the pale moonlight, Jessup’s thin face appeared all the more gaunt. Like a ghost of a man. The hours of stress had not been kind to the man. He squinted down at Luke, nose wrinkled.

“So why you going after Benny?” Jessup asked, “You care so much about doing the right thing, whatever that means. If the right thing is helping ‘Murph n’ me, ain’t the right thing to do to let him go?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

It just is. “I just want to know why he did it.”

Jessup studied Luke from his perch. His face ever unreadable.

“It was ‘cause you had the package. Don’t think it was personal.”

Luke knew he was only trying to be helpful, but Jessup’s assessment of the situation only tied knots in Luke’s stomach. But why? But why?

“But why!? For some kitschy poker chip? It doesn’t make sense. I just…” Luke sighed, deflated, “I don’t know.”

Jessup sucked on his teeth and brought one knee up to his chest, propping his arm up on it. He wasn’t very good at sitting still, “Who were you delivering to?”

Luke had read the receipt so many times he had it memorised, “I was supposed to meet someone at the entrance to The Strip. I don’t know who, just some ‘agent’ at the checkpoint.”

“Makes sense he’d want you gone in Goodsprings, then,” Jessup said, “‘Murph figured Benny stole that chip from his boss.”

“His… boss? Wait, who is Benny?”

“He’s some big shot on the Strip, part of the Chairmen,” Jessup waved a hand dismissively, sending ash from his cigarette fluttering to the ground, “‘Murph said he must be stealing from his boss, otherwise, he’d of robbed you in Freeside. Wanted to be so far away no one could snitch.”

Luke didn’t frequent the Strip, only Freeside. He wasn’t familiar with the gangs who ran it. ‘Chairmen’ meant nothing to him. Jessup continued.

“Chairmen used to be like us, like Khans. Last I heard they were run by a guy named Bingo. Heard someone killed him though, dunno who's in charge anymore.”

Luke scrubbed his stubbly face, the unshaved hairs biting into his palms. This was becoming more and more complex. Benny was somebody important. Somebody near inaccessible. Both physically by the wall that separated the Strip from the rest of the world, and by status. But the need for answers burned in his chest. And this conversation wasn’t helping any. What Luke needed was a plan. Something to focus on, now that McMurphy was out of his hands.

“What if we tell Benny’s boss?”

Jessup’s laugh came like a hiss of air through grinning teeth.

“We? Are you asking a Khan to snitch?”

When you put it like that… Luke faltered, bunching his hands into fists, “How else would we-- would I catch him?”

“Find ‘im, bust his head. Simple.”

“I don’t do faces anymore, remember?” Luke shook his head, “An-- and he’s on the Strip. You said he’s important. I doubt w-- I could just walk up to him like that.”

Jessup sucked on the last glowing embers of his cigarette. He blow out smoke and stared at the ground. Then at the roof and then at the sky, pouting all the while like a petulant child.

It was then Luke was struck by how young Jessup looked. Not a young man by any means, not nearly as young as Ada’s guard, but not the grizzled mercenary-raider type of Khan plastered on NCR wanted posters back West. Sketches that depicted their horned helmets as if the horns were part of their skull.

“Squealing to one suit ‘bout another,” Jessup scrunched up his nose, “Benny gets disappeared and another suit takes his place. Not the type of revenge I’d want.”

That pricked Luke’s ears just enough, “So you do want revenge.”

“Never said I didn’t,” Jessup said, “I just wanna know if I’m gonna get your knife in my back.”

Luke thought of his burial. His death shroud.

“I wouldn’t.”

Jessup hummed as he took one last drag of his cigarette and ground it out on the roof., “No, I don’t think you would.”

“Does that mean you’re coming with me?”

“I gotta focus on ‘Murph now. But I’ll find you in Freeside. Here--”

Jessup produced a square of silver from inside his jacket. It glinted in the moonlight. He tossed it down to Luke in a carefully telegraphed motion. To his own surprise, Luke caught the hunk of metal, warmed by the heat of Jessup’s body. A lighter.

“It’s Benny’s. Shove it up his ass if you catch him before me.”

#fnv #great khans #fallout new vegas #jessup #mcmurphy #my writing #txt #jessup the companion

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selfcestmovies · 1 month

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Fun in the Framework Daisy Johnson x Daisy Johnson Wordcount: ~4500 Warnings: smut, virtual reality sex, selfcest, fighting then fucking, daisy is hungry, SELFCEST Read and share on Ao3!

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Daisy Johnson stared at the Framework headset in her hands, the sleek, futuristic device reflecting the soft overhead lights. It looked like something straight out of Stark Industries, all smooth curves and sleek, matte black, with subtle blue lines tracing along its surface. The tech felt almost alien, but that’s what made it so exciting. This was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s latest innovation in training—a virtual reality system that could simulate any environment with near-perfect realism. It was like stepping into another world.

“Fitz, you really outdid yourself this time.” Daisy huffed and turned the headset over in her hands for the dozenth time.

Her orders were simple, but Coulson had made sure they were official: support the Framework development by any means necessary. Fitz had tried to meet Daisy half-way and suggested she use the tech’s new sparring simulator, since she had taken such a liking to her physical regiment lately. But she wasn’t in the gym, she was in her dorm—and Daisy was putting her trust in this new, pseudo-futuristic device to simply bring the gym to her.

Or, a “psycho-virtual simulacrum of the gym” as Fitz had explained earlier. Whatever.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy slid the headset over her eyes. The cool material settled against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, and the world around her began to dissolve, replaced by a black void filled with faint, glowing grids. She could feel a slight hum in the air, like the device was alive and pulsing with energy.

The simulation loaded in an instant, and Daisy found herself standing in the S.H.I.E.L.D. training gym—recreated to every tiny, minute detail. The floor was lined with deep red mats that felt springy underfoot, the walls a soothing combination of dark wood and brick, with soft light flickering in the fluorescent lights above. Everything was rendered in perfect detail, right down to the faint scuffs on the mats from countless prior training sessions. The air was crisp and cool.

Daisy glanced around, catching sight of herself in a long wall mirror. Even the reflection looked flawless. “Impressive, Fitz,” she hummed. Daisy couldn’t help but admire the way she looked—her reflection showed a woman who had been putting in the work. Her body was becoming toned and powerful, the tight black tank top hugging her torso and showing off the early hints of muscle definition in her arms and shoulders. The black leggings she wore emphasized her long legs and the strength in them. She’d been on a new training regime for weeks now, and it was definitely paying off.

“Not bad, Daisy Johnson,” she murmured to herself, a small smile playing on her lips as she turned slightly to catch different angles. “You’re looking good.”

It wasn’t just the physical changes. She felt stronger, more confident, more in control of herself and her abilities as a rookie field agent. She knew she’d come a long way from the hacker-turned-recruit who stumbled her way through her early missions.

“Alright,” she said aloud, shaking herself out of her self-admiration. “Time to see what this bad boy can really do.”

She flicked her wrist, and the Framework’s interface responded immediately, pulling up a menu of options to populate the training simulation. She could go the traditional route—programmed enemies, obstacle courses, simulated missions—but that felt a little too… easy. Predictable. Then she considered the alternative: simulating a sparring match against May, or Agent Romanoff, or Captain America?

She winced at the thought of getting her ass kicked in virtual reality. “Maybe something simpler, but still challenging,” she mused. What Daisy really needed was an opponent that would really test her, push her to her limits in new ways. Equally matched but still a true challenge. And that’s when the idea hit her.

“What if…” she mused, her eyes narrowing as she navigated through the options, steeling a quick glance back at the wall of mirrors across the gym. “What if I could fight someone who knows me better than anyone else?”

A smirk curled her lips as she began customizing the scenario. This was going to be interesting. After a few quick adjustments, she set the Framework to create a perfect duplicate of herself. Another Daisy Johnson. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but that was half the fun. Besides, how often do you get to spar against yourself?

The room shimmered for a moment, and the air in front of her seemed to ripple like a heatwave. Then, just as quickly, the distortion solidified, and there she was. Another Daisy, standing just a few feet away, with the same sharp eyes, the same confident stance, the same tight black tank top and leggings. It was like looking into a mirror, except this mirror blinked on its own. Her lips curled into a small, knowing smirk.

“Well, this is weird,” the other Daisy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Daisy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but you’re definitely… me.”

They both stood there for a moment, sizing each other up. It was surreal, facing herself like this. She knew her own strengths and weaknesses better than anyone, so she knew this was going to be one hell of a fight. And yet, there was something thrilling about it, too. The idea of going toe-to-toe with someone who could match her move for move was exactly the challenge she needed.

Daisy watched her mirror image tighten her fists in anticipation of what was to come.

“Alright, clone-me. Enough stalling” she said, rolling her shoulders and getting into a fighting stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The double mirrored her movements perfectly, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “I was about to say the same thing. Think you can keep up with me?”

“Oh, honey,” Daisy replied with a grin, “I’m not the one who needs to worry about keeping up.”

They both moved at the same time, launching into a series of attacks and counters that echoed through the gym. Daisy was used to sparring with some of the best fighters S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer, but this was something else entirely. Every punch she threw was blocked, every kick dodged with precision. It was like fighting a mirror that anticipated her every move.

But at the same time, Daisy trusted in her instincts and found herself effortlessly blocking, parrying, and sidestepping past everything the double threw at her, too. From the onset, it was a stalemate—but uncanny, and fun, as the Daisies found themselves in a mutual flowstate that felt more like a choreographed dance than a brutal beatdown.

They circled each other, trading blows that came faster and harder with each exchange. Sweat began to bead on Daisy’s forehead, her muscles burning with the effort, but she relished the challenge. The double was just as relentless, not giving an inch.

“This is actually kinda cool,” Daisy panted, ducking under a high kick and sweeping low to try and trip the double. “I mean, I always knew I was a badass, but seeing it like this? Next level.”

The double grinned, jumping back to avoid the sweep and launching into a counterattack. “Yeah, I gotta admit, I’m impressed with myself too. But don’t think I’m going easy on you just because we share a face.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Daisy shot back, her voice tinged with a playful edge. She wasn’t sure when the sparring had started to feel more like a game, but she was enjoying it. There was something liberating about fighting someone who wasn’t trying to kill her, someone who could match her wit as well as her strength. Daisy had faced formidable opponents before—seasoned agents, powered individuals, and everything in between—but this was on another level. It was like trying to fight her own shadow, every strike blocked, every grapple met with an escape, every throw countered with a brutal reversal.

Daisy feinted left, then darted right, aiming a sharp elbow strike at her double’s ribs. The double anticipated it, pivoting smoothly out of the way and grabbing Daisy’s arm mid-motion, using her momentum to flip her onto the mat. The impact jolted through Daisy’s body, but she rolled with it, springing back to her feet almost instantly. “Nice try,” the double said, her voice laced with amusement. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Don’t worry,” Daisy shot back, breathing heavily but grinning despite herself. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

They closed the distance again, this time both of them opting for a more brutal style of close-quarters brawling. It was a dance of grapples and throws, each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Daisy managed to get her double into a headlock, only for the double to twist out of it, using Daisy’s own leverage against her to slam her down to the mat again. But Daisy wasn’t down for long. She rolled onto her back, using her legs to scissor around the double’s waist, pulling her down and flipping them over so that she was on top.

Their breaths mingled as they struggled for dominance, each trying to pin the other. Daisy could feel the strength in her double’s muscles, the heat radiating from her body as they grappled. Every time one of them gained an advantage, the other would slip free.

“Damn,” Daisy grunted as she tried to force her double’s shoulders down, her muscles straining with the effort. “You’re tougher than you look.”

The double chuckled, even as she bucked her hips and twisted to throw Daisy off balance. “You’re just mad because I’m as good as you.”

Their bodies collided again, a tangle of limbs and grunts as they fought for control. Daisy managed to get a knee between them, pushing the double back just enough to land a solid punch to her gut. The double doubled over, but only for a second before retaliating with a vicious uppercut that nearly sent Daisy sprawling. But Daisy caught herself, dropping into a low stance and sweeping her leg out in a wide arc, knocking the double’s feet out from under her.

The double hit the mat hard but rolled with the fall, grabbing Daisy’s leg and yanking her down as well. They both scrambled for position, neither willing to give the other the satisfaction of a clean victory. Daisy’s heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline surging through her veins as she fought with everything she had. This wasn’t just a fight—it was becoming a test of everything she’d become. Each time their bodies clashed, there was a split second of electric connection, and a recognition of their unspoken understanding: the way they moved in perfect synchronicity, and the uncanny rhythm that Daisy couldn’t quite break no matter how hard she tried.

In an act of desperation—or maybe it was luck, at this point, or a glitch in the Framework’s system—Daisy spun behind her double, wrapping an arm around her neck in a chokehold and finally breaking the stalemate to gain an upper hand. The double struggled, clawing at Daisy’s arm, but Daisy held firm, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tightened her grip.

“I’ve got you,” Daisy whispered, her voice hoarse with exertion.

The double’s response was a low, breathless laugh. “Maybe… but I’m not… giving up…”

With a final burst of strength, the double twisted in Daisy’s grasp, throwing her off balance just enough to break free. Daisy stumbled back, but before she could recover, the double lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. They rolled across the mat in a tangle of limbs, each trying to gain the upper hand, until finally, Daisy found herself pinned beneath the other woman, their identical faces just inches apart.

The gym was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the heat of their twinned, exhausted bodies radiating between them. Daisy’s hands were pinned above her head, the double’s weight pressing her down into the mat. For a moment, neither of them moved, the world narrowing to the space between them, to the feel of the double’s body against hers, to the intensity in her double’s eyes.

Daisy’s heart raced, but it wasn’t just from the exertion. There was something else, something deeper, that she was only now beginning to understand. The realization hit her like a freight train—this wasn’t just about winning a fight. It was about something far more primal, far more intimate.

“You’re… good,” Daisy managed to say, her voice breathless and tinged with a tone in her voice that she didn’t quite recognize.

The double’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “So are you.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with tension. Daisy could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her body still humming with the adrenaline of the fight, but now there was something else too—an electric charge that seemed to radiate from every point where their bodies touched.

She tried to shift, to move her arms, but the double held her down, their faces so close that Daisy could feel the warmth of her breath on her lips. “I… I think we’re evenly matched,” Daisy finally whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

“Maybe,” the double replied, her voice too just as low and laced with a teasing edge. “But I think we’re enjoying ourselves.”

Before Daisy could respond, the double leaned in slowly, the tip of her nose brushing against Daisy’s, and the world seemed to narrow down to that single point of contact. Daisy’s breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as their bodies pressed together, the heat between them almost unbearable.

For a split second, the world seemed to stand still, and all Daisy could think about was the way their bodies fit together, the way the double’s breath mingled with hers, the way her heart pounded in her chest. This was her own body that she found herself drawn too, in a twisted, taboo, narcissistic and eternally fucked up attraction. She stared deeply into the eyes of her mirror image, and when her lips curled into a smile, she saw her twin to the same.

It was an accidental, awkward grind at first, just the natural consequence of their tangled limbs and the adrenaline still pumping through their veins. But the friction, the pressure, it was unmistakable—and suddenly, it wasn’t so accidental anymore. Daisy could feel the double’s body shifting against hers, the movement slow, deliberate, as if testing the waters. There was a moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, and then something clicked into place. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by a mutual understanding, a recognition that this was just another way they were perfectly matched.

The grinding became more purposeful, the double’s hips moving in slow, deliberate circles, and Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t meant for this to happen—hadn’t even considered it—but now that it was, she couldn’t deny how good it felt, how right it felt.

“Hm,” Daisy breathed, her voice trembling as the realization hit her. She wasn’t just enjoying this—she was turned on. Her body responded to the friction, the heat, the way their movements synchronized so perfectly. She was losing control, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to get it back.

The double’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she noticed the change in Daisy’s expression. “What’s on your mind, Daisy?”

Daisy opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat as the double shifted the weight of her hips again, pressing harder against her. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through Daisy’s body, and she gasped, her hands instinctively jolting free of her double’s grasp in order to find purchase on the other Daisy’s hips. She could feel the tight muscles beneath her fingers, the way the double’s body responded to every movement, and it only made her want more.

But then, in the midst of the movement, Daisy’s hand slipped lower, brushing against the curve of the double’s ass. The touch was accidental, but the reaction was immediate. Daisy froze, her eyes widening as she realized what she’d done, but the double only grinned, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Hmm,” the double murmured, her voice teasing. “Seems like someone’s getting a little handsy.”

Daisy’s face flushed, but she didn’t move her hand. The warmth of the double’s skin beneath her fingers was intoxicating, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Sure you didn’t,” the double interrupted, her tone playful, but there was an edge of challenge in her voice. “But you know what? I think we like it.”

Daisy’s breath hitched as the double’s hips ground against hers, harder this time, more insistent. Daisy found herself guiding the movement, too, with her hand adjusting to a firmer position on the double’s ass and ensuring that her encouragement was made clear. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming, and Daisy could feel herself spiraling, her thoughts scattering in every direction. She could feel the heat swelling between her legs. She knew she should stop, that this was crossing a line she hadn’t even known existed, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

“Go on,” the double urged, her voice low and husky, a seductive purr that sent shivers down Daisy’s spine. “You’ve already come this far. Don’t hold back now.”

Daisy’s grip tightened as she gave in to the magnetic pull between them, her fingers digging into the double’s firm flesh. “Fuck—our ass,” the thought spat from her lips without filter: the relishing in the fact that feeling up her own body from this new perspective was driving her wild at her core. She brought her second hand to join the first, splaying all ten fingers wide against her clone’s backside and gripping tight. “—Feels so perfect…”

The double didn’t just respond; she thrived on it, her body arching back into Daisy’s touch, the grinding of their hips becoming almost desperate, each movement pushing them closer to the edge. The air around them was thick with heat, their breaths mingling in quick, ragged gasps as the tension between them reached a fever pitch.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” the double hissed, her voice low and dripping with sinful delight. “You love feeling your own body pressed against you, every fucking inch of it. I can feel you getting wet for me.”

Daisy couldn’t find the words to respond, her thoughts tangled in a haze of raw pleasure and disbelief. The double wasn’t wrong—she did love it, more than she ever thought possible. Every curve, every muscle, every shiver that ran through her own body was reflected in her double, amplifying the intensity until it was almost unbearable. The realization that she was turned on by her own form—by the sheer power and beauty of it—was electrifying.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Daisy finally managed to choke out, her voice rough with desire. Her hands roamed the double’s body, exploring every inch she could reach. Her fingers trailed up the double’s spine, tracing the line of muscle that flexed beneath her touch, feeling the strength there, the familiar power that she knew so well. “Every fucking part of you—of me—so fucking perfect.”

The double’s breath hitched at the praise, her eyes darkening with lust as she pressed harder against Daisy, their bodies moving in sync, the friction driving them both wild. “Yeah? You like that? You like knowing how fucking hot you are?”

Daisy nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, her mind spinning as she lost herself in the sensation. She’d never thought of herself this way, but now, with her double grinding into her, their bodies so perfectly matched, it was impossible to ignore. She was hot—fucking hot—and it felt incredible to finally acknowledge it, to revel in it. Daisy let her gaze finally break from her double’s eyes and drift down her torso and towards their chests, like mirror images pressed together, their identical tank tops clinging firm to their curves glistening with sweat and heaving up and down with each synchronous, labored breath.

The double’s grin was wicked as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against Daisy’s ear. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll be begging for more,” she whispered, her voice a promise, a challenge.

Daisy’s heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation almost too much to bear. She could feel the double’s breath on her skin, could feel the heat radiating off her body, the way their sweat-slicked skin slid together. And then, without warning, the double’s tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate line up Daisy’s neck, tracing the curve of her jaw, and up to her cheek. The sensation was a shock to Daisy’s system—messy, wet, and impossibly hot. She gasped, her body arching into the touch, every nerve ending on fire as the double’s tongue left a trail of heat and spit in its wake. The wetness of it, the way it smeared across her skin, was filthy, primal, and it only made Daisy want more.

“Fuck,” Daisy moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to the sensation. “That’s so fucking hot, Daisy… do it again.”

The double didn’t need to be told twice. She leaned in again, this time slower, more deliberate, her tongue sliding up Daisy’s neck with a slow, teasing intensity that made Daisy’s knees weak. She could feel the double’s breath against her skin, could feel the heat of it mingling with her own, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You like that?” the double murmured wet against her ear, her voice low and full of dark satisfaction. “We taste so sweet, Daisy.”

“Yeah,” Daisy gasped, her voice hollow, barely more than a breath. “Fuck, Daisy…” The words came out choked, whispered. Speaking her own name in the throes of passion still felt almost perverse and alien, but she had come to embrace it. “Daisy,” again, she breathed the word and locked eyes again with her twin.

Their bodies moved together, the grinding becoming more frantic, more desperate, as they neared the edge. The heat between them was unbearable, every touch, every movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through Daisy’s body. She could feel the double’s muscles tensing on top of her, could feel the way their bodies fit together so perfectly, every curve and line and angle aligned in a way that felt almost too good to be true.

“Come on, Daisy,” the double urged, her voice hoarse with need. “Let go. I know you want to. I can feel how close you are—how fucking good this feels.”

Daisy was right there, teetering on the edge of oblivion, her body trembling with the intensity of it all. She could feel the double’s breath on her skin, could feel the way their bodies ground together, her legs locking even tighter into Daisy’s lap. The friction was almost too much to bear. And then, with a final, desperate pulse, the world exploded around her.

“Fuck!” Daisy cried out, her voice raw as the orgasm ripped through her, every muscle in her body tensing as she came hard, her hips bucking against the double’s in a frenzy of motion. The double followed right behind her, their bodies shaking, quaking, as they climaxed together, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies locked together in the aftermath, panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath. The double’s weight was comforting against Daisy’s, her body warm and solid and so fucking perfect, and Daisy couldn’t help but smile, a lazy, satisfied grin that spread across her face as she lay there, basking in the afterglow.

“Fuck,” Daisy finally managed to say, her voice breathless and full of awe. “That was… holy shit.”

The double chuckled, the sound low and full of satisfaction, as she rolled off Daisy, collapsing beside her on the mat. “Yeah… it was.”

They lay there in silence for a while, just breathing, their bodies still tingling from the intensity of their shared climax. Daisy’s mind was still spinning, trying to process everything that had just happened, but all she could focus on was the warmth of the double beside her, the way their bodies had fit together so perfectly, the way they had moved in sync, as if they were two halves of the same whole.

“That was… unexpected,” the other Daisy said after a while, her voice quiet and thoughtful.

Daisy couldn’t argue with that. It had been perfect in its own twisted way. “Yeah,” Daisy agreed, her voice soft, almost reverent. “Yeah, it was.”

They stayed like that for a while longer, just lying there, their bodies spent, their minds still buzzing with the aftermath. Daisy couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was exactly what she had needed all along.

- - - - -

Daisy Johnson slid the headset off, blinking as the cool air of the lab replaced the heated atmosphere of the Framework’s simulated gym. Her heart was still pounding, the memory of what had just happened lingering in her mind. It had felt so absolutely, undeniably real to her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before leaving her dorm and making the slow trek back to Fitz’s lab.

She avoided all semblance of eye-contact as she neared Fitz’s desk with a casual ease that belied the storm of emotions swirling inside her. With a gentle thud, she placed the Framework prototype back on his workbench.

Fitz looked up, a curious eyebrow raised. “So, how was it? Any glitches? Unexpected bugs?”

Daisy gave him a sly grin, leaning against the desk with a relaxed confidence. “Let’s just say your Framework is… very realistic. No bugs that I could find, but it definitely pushed all the right buttons.”

Fitz’s brow furrowed slightly, clearly puzzled by her cryptic answer. “Pushed the right buttons? What does that mean?”

“It means I approve, Fitz,” she said flatly. “This tech is going to make training a whole lot more… interesting.”

Fitz chuckled, though he still looked a bit bewildered. “I’ll take that as a good sign, then.”

“Trust me,” Daisy said, patting the headset affectionately before turning to leave the lab. “You’ve outdone yourself with this one.”

As she walked away, she could feel Fitz’s eyes on her, still trying to figure out what exactly she meant. But Daisy just smiled to herself, the memory of her time in the Framework still fresh, knowing full well that this was one secret she’d keep to herself. For now.

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