#which was one good thing that happened for him post death
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Woe, Crack Baby Shitten au be upon thee.
(@bamsara 's little doodle of Nari being dubbed Cult Babysitter and holding a little lamb irrevocably changed my brain chemistry. So of course, I'm now making it everyone else's problem with the headcanon that Narinder is good with children of all ages.)
A couple of months before Lamb gets captured, they meet another lamb or a very small flock that have to split up very quickly after meeting since there's more chance of the lamb species surviving if they aren't all together. In the meeting, Lamb agrees to try continue the lamb species and gets pregnant via *magic* or afab.
Of course, all of the lambs are captured and killed with Lamb being the last, still a few months away from giving birth.
But then they are chosen and resurrected by The One Who Waits.
Fun fact: a fetus can survive for a few minutes after the death of the carrier. (Also this is a world with magic and gods in it. Logic means nothing to me.)
Lamb starts their cult, crusades across the lands and meets all sorts of allies and enemies. All while quietly mourning their entire species and the child that never would be.
Right up until they go into labour.
The baby is lamb through and through with soft wool, wide eyes, tiny cloven hooves and floppy ears.
But the influence of the crown is blazingly obvious since the baby's wool is jet black and they have three red eyes.
I can't tell which would be funnier. Lamb giving birth in The Lonely Shack or while they are physically in The Gateway just post-beating Leshy. Like they were in active labour right throughout fighting Leshy and had no idea. Either way, it's Shocked Pikachu .jpeg all around. (My fucking KINGDOM for a doodle of this.)
Various dot point shenanigans under the cut
There are two ways to go about this. But either way, Baby is not staying in the Cult. Too dangerous, especially if word gets to the Bishops about there being another lamb. So Lamb can and will speed-run this shit. So it takes them about 4-6 years to fully defeat the Bishops.
Baby stays with Ratau:
Lamb goes and yells at TOWW. They are panicking because they have no idea how to raise a probably-half-god baby.
Narinder has no idea what happened right up until Lamb comes in screaming about him being a Baby Daddy and child support.
Ratau is Grandpa now. This is his fate. He embraces the Grandpa life.
Baby learns how to play knucklebones before they can speak.
Shrumy tries to wager with Lamb/Ratau for the whole Baby. Once and only Once.
Baby's first word is dice. Or die.
Baby worships TOWW, but they are a Baby and don't really comprehend worship so the small shrine gets a lot of flowers, neat rocks and some drawings. Narinder always gives a lot of gold for them. And No, it's not favouritism. Shut up.
Baby knows curses. This is concerning for everyone except Baby.
Baby gets a little TOWW doll. It's their favourite, it goes everywhere with them and washing it is a nightmare for everyone involved.
Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower because of the doll.
↑ this action will have consequences.
When Baby is not so baby, they make stuff out of their wool for TOWW and for his disciples. Or asks their parent to help them make stuff.
Cue Lamb awkwardly giving the three some very wonky scarves or hats.
Baal loves it.
Aym refuses to take his off. Ever.
Narinder is actually upset cause his doesn't fit. He's too big. He had to wear it like a little ring.
Or Baby stays/is brought to the Gateway ala Aym and Baal situation:
If Lamb gives birth in the Gateway, everyone is getting a free midwifery education and free trauma. The cats want a refund.
Ya know when a baby instinctively clasps their little hand around a finger and it's like a crime to pull away? That but with Narinder's big ass claw that Baby can only barely cling to.
Aym cries the first time he holds Baby.
Baal straight-up refuses to give Baby back for a good hour.
Lamb visits at least once a day.
Lamb also brings baby things since a baby will do what a baby will do.
Depending on how old Aym and Baal were when they were gifted, Narinder is either learning all of this for the first time or is reminded of how challenging baby care can be.
Narinder purrs = a zonked Baby.
Baby's first word is Vessel.
Baby is taught to fight. Lamb doesn't like it but accepts it.
Baby has a little lamb doll. It is only due to the fact the afterlife doesn't have dirt that they avoid the nightmare of trying to wash it.
Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower since they refuse to be parted with him for long.
↑ this action will have consequences.
Lamb teaches Baby about being a lamb and if Aym and Baal join in, well who are they to deny their child's only friends/guardians this?
Narinder and Lamb figure out how to get Baby to teleport to the Living World and Baby gets to visit Grandpa Ratau.
Post-game shenanigans.
Narinder: Give me back my crown.
Lamb: Ok. Sure.
Narinder: I will now sacrifice my most devoted follower (the Lamb) for my freedom.
Lamb: *Kill Bill sirens*
Lamb somehow doesn't kill Aym and Baal and instead kidnaps them via Indoctrination Circle out of spite/ reluctance to hurt them.
Narinder feels betrayed that the Lamb would refuse like this and kidnap his acolytes. He was going to resurrect them! He can't fully commit to raising a child while being the God of Death.
Lamb feels betrayed that Narinder would want to kill their child. After all they've been through together! After the way they saw him treat Baby with such gentleness and now he wants to kill them?!
This comes out in the very final moments right before Lamb goes to give the final blow.
Narinder: You are a vengeful false idol and a traitor!
Lamb: At least I'm not a monster who wanted to kill my own child!
Narinder: Wait. What.
This devolves into a massive argument with divorced-couple vibes.
Narinder is insulted and a bit hurt they thought he would kill his own child.
Lamb is hurt that Narinder would just demand their sacrifice without even talking to them about the whole situation.
Either way the lesson learned is Narinder needs to be more blunt and Lamb needs to not jump to conclusions.
So they are left with a newly usurped Narinder and a newly crowned Lamb. Oops.
Baby is with Ratau when all of this is going down.
Baby is happy their family is all together properly. Baby is Not Happy about this whole cult thing demanding attention from Their Baba.
The Cult is baffled by the sight of their leader with both a baby and a Spouse? Bitterly Divorced Ex? Estranged Co-parent?! What ever it is, most of them have elected not to touch the whole situation with a 10ft barge pole.
Baby learns what the word Father is and how that word refers to Narinder.
Baby calls Narinder Father/Papa/Daddy. Instant KO.
Narinder somehow gains a small hoard of children that like to follow him. Baby Does Not Approve.
Baby also Does Not Approve of this newly formed rift between their parents.
Cue Parent Trap level of Shenanigans.
Aym and Baal are recruited.
The Hoard of Children are recruited. Baby now Slightly Approves.
Narinder and Lamb have an Actual Conversation after the 18th time they get locked in the confessional together.
This of course evolves into Narilamb.
Bishops are saved from purgatory.
Despite all attempts otherwise, Baby is introduced to them.
Shocked Pikachu .jpeg x4
Maybe after a few more years, not-so-baby Baby wants a sibling.
This got so much longer than I thought but yes. Shitten Shenanigans: Accidental Child Acquisition flavoured.
#cult of the lamb#cotl#Shitten Shenanigans Au#cotl lamb#cotl narinder#narilamb#true devotion#Cotl Aym#Cotl Baal#Cotl Ratau#accidental child acquisition#at least on Narinder's part#long post#I once again do not go here#this got longer than I thought it would#Bam's brain is SO wrinkled and I want to lick it
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are there any WIP or long post s2 fics you guys are keeping an eye on? I want to get into something for the long haul! love you guys, thank you!!
I don't read WIPs myself, though I have a couple bookmarked for once they're complete. Here are some long ones for you, which may or may not be completed by the time this posts...
Flaws by indigo (E) (WIP) (now complete)
Aziraphale cannot just sit back and hope any longer; Crowley is too precious to him to allow any risk at all to his continued existence. The Metatron's offer was far too good to pass by, and even if Crowley refuses to see it, Aziraphale needs to take this chance to make Heaven into the place of light and good that it should be. Crowley will come around eventually, the angel knows that impetuosity was always one of his flaws.
But what of Aziraphale's flaws? Naivety, perhaps?
I am jumping into the post S2 whirlpool with my own thoughts on What Happened Next.
Whilst I have every confidence that NG will FIX THIS, I have some fears that Amazon will leave us hanging... and anyway, I want my happiness for them NOW, not in another four years...
Angst in places, but they will end up on the same page, eventually!
At least one update a week for now, settling into weekly updates by September.
how do we turn on the light? by moonyinpisces (M) (WIP)
Aziraphale ascends to the highest level of the Archangels. And he remembers—well. It’s not important what he remembers.
The End of My World Is You by T_O_S_T_E, WeepingintheTARDIS (G) (WIP)
If finding the Truth means the end of the Universe… would you still proceed?
Something’s Up, and that something is the Second Coming. Although many people - sorry, angels - seem to be involved, there’s only one among them who knows what’s really cooking in the hot oven called ‘the Great Plan’.
Although — only one?
Don't Fall Away From Me by PhoenixRose314 (M) (WIP)
if i fall,
on that day,
i only pray
don't fall away from me.
What if there was much more to Aziraphale and Crowley's history than Crowley remembers?
What if there had been an "our side" even before the Fall?
What if Aziraphale's guilt was the only thing keeping them apart for the last six thousand years?
And what if the only thing that could pull them back together again was the firm belief of a plucky little angel-turned-human-bookseller that love really does conquer all?
Don't Fall Away From Me is a post Season-2 Good Omens fic that rotates perspectives between Muriel, Crowley and Aziraphale.
Are We Meant to Read the Footnotes? by RiaTheDreamer (T) (WIP)
After Aziraphale’s decision, Crowley chooses coffee, not death. Life goes, painfully, on, and Crowley does his best to adapt to his new lonely existence.
It hurts. Until it suddenly doesn’t.
Someone has opened the Book of Life and erased Aziraphale’s name.
Old habits kick in, but how can Crowley save someone whose existence has been destroyed and forgotten?
- Mod D
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Okay, I want to play too. Building off of @dustorange's post and @silverwhittlingknife's post
I think, how I would play this: the circus still happens obviously.
And then Dick dies when he's 16 in circumstances similar to Batman #408, where Dick is shot by the Joker and it causes him to fall to his death. (Dick has to die by falling. To me.) Bruce isn't able to catch him.
Bruce is obviously devastated. Going off of Silver, we'll say no Robin!Jason in this AU. Jason can get away with stealing the tires off of the Batmobile of an extremely grieving Batman. As a treat.
Tim is also devastated. I usually have Tim being 3 at the circus, so I guess he's 11-12 when this happens.
I think the fact that Dick was the only Robin in this scenario means that Tim is more reluctant to push himself as a replacement Robin. That and the fact that his HERO Dick Grayson died means I think that he's slower to act.
Eventually though, things get bad enough in Gotham that he does just because someone has to and he ends up as Robin. We'll handwave the details for now.
I think that Dick should get to come back to life during the Knightfall Saga. As a treat.
He comes back to Gotham just in time to see that there's a new Robin and watch Bruce get his back broken.
Tim's been Robin longer before Knightfall in this AU, so he's got a little more experience, but he's also 14, and while Bruce is lying in the Batcave and they don't know whether he's going to wake up or not, and he's fetching the medicine in that one comic, he runs into this unknown, edgy looking vigilante who blames him for Bruce getting his back broken and it's just everything he's been thinking to himself.
Dick sticks around in Gotham long enough to see that there's a new Batman and of course Bruce has someone else he can get to do that. Of course he doesn't need Dick. He runs off to go do like, black-ops vigilante work somewhere.
I think he and Tim do run into eachother once more before Dick leaves town though and Tim's like 'I know I'll never be as good as the first Robin, but that just means I need to learn everything I can' and tries to bother Dick into teaching him stuff because he can tell that this mysterious vigilante is way more skilled than him.
Dick mostly avoids Gotham, but I think they keep running into each other, coincidentally. Tim ends up teaming up with him during Contagion instead of Catwoman and they're both in Paris at the same time etc etc.
And eventually on one of these team-ups, Dick does a quadruple somersault and Tim sees it and everything clicks together and he imminently runs away because that's Dick Grayson and Tim has been talking up the first Robin all this time and it's a lot okay?
I think this is about when No Man's Land happens so Tim goes to go hide in Gotham and help out Batman and become a National News story and all that jazz instead of thinking about it.
But afterwards, Tim is ON THE CASE. I think he doesn't tell Bruce about this because if Dick hasn't told Bruce then he probably has his reasons? And what he was actually wrong? (Even though he knows he isn't)
And then, um, let's put the Dick and Bruce finally confronting each other during Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive because Dick comes back to Gotham when he hears that Bruce murdered someone because he doesn't want to believe it, but I think he also can't have that same bone deep belief in his innocence that he does in canon because of all the estrangement.
So he attacks Batman and demands to know the truth (without revealing who he is) and Bruce won't answer. Bruce also doesn't know how this mysterious vigilante knows he's Bruce Wayne/got accused of murder, so he low key suspects DICK of framing him, which normally he'd be too busy being Batman full time to care, but here he also recognizes some of Dick's fighting style so he starts investigating him to uncover the mystery.
Meanwhile, Tim noticed that Dick is back in town, so he's trying to recruit Dick to help him get to the bottom of this. He knows Dick's identity now, but he doesn't tell Dick that, he just drops various hints that he knows and hooks Dick up with a line to Oracle (who he has also not shared his conclusions with other than a vague 'there's something about him')
And hmm somehow this all resolves with like, Dick's identity getting out and him and Bruce talking face to face. Bruce is just so desperately amazed that Dick is there, meanwhile Dick still has various issues that are not resolved and it probably ends with Dick running away again and Bruce holding himself back from chasing after him like he desperately wants to. Because if Dick doesn't want anything to do with him then that's just his right because Bruce WAS the one who got him killed.
He does stalk Dick from afar though. Just without initiating contact. Tim and Barbara are more pushy about trying to hang out/talk with Dick in the aftermath.
To skip ahead, I think Bruce leaves Dick the Batmantle after he 'dies' as this last ditch attempt to share how much he loves and respects Dick.
And this getting long so I think I'll call it here.
#batman#dc#bats + birds + affiliated#my au ideas#tim drake#dick grayson#bruce wayne#last of the flying graysons#tim tag#utrh dick au#havendance writes#carthago delenda est
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paul "if john was gay i wouldve known he wouldve hit on me!" mccartney
🤝
john "im not GAY but i constantly hit on paul. it doesnt appear to be coming across. that must mean he's straight too" lennon
/youre bad at it and he's bad at it and that's gay love in the oppressive 1960s straight hegemony baby!
#youre bad at it and he's bad at it and thats repressed gay love in the 1960s repressive straight hegemony baby#paul saying he WOULDVE KNOWN if a gay person hitting on him is either the funniest thing a str8 person has ever said or the biggest#overt admission of being queer#lmao#and we know its not the first 1#mclennon#john lennon#paul mccartney#they werent normal about each other and its SO FUNNY NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT IT other than the stannies#i feel for JL honestly although i think hes a very destructive and kind of bad person (but who isnt lol)#he seemed so tortured and part of it was never being able to embrace his sexuality in the 50s and 60s and it steered his whole life awry#alongside all thenother tragedies#but w that too he mustve felt sooooo broken#and it couldnt be more obvious he loved paul#even yoko finally confirmed he was bi (as far as she knows - dont know how hed identify today) he is queer#which was one good thing that happened for him post death#not having to hide#anywayyyy
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I don’t actually consider it an unfinished storyline, because nonfiction books in development get scraped all the time, but I do wish that the tell all book Michelle Patsil’s was interviewing for from season 2 had actually been published.
#It would be a good way to introduce things no one in canon would ever actually bring up#also I won’t lie kinda wanted it post Logan’s death because then you can’t ask him about it#but then again ewan’s eulogy sort of did this- we found out what happened to rose and things about his childhood#that it didn’t happen means I can use it in fanfic forever which is fine#succession
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I don’t know if anyone else had this experience but let me tell you that watching Crowley Supernatural spiral further and further into depression season after season with only the knowledge that this character was eventually going to commit suicide—not the how or why or when, just that it would happen—was very, very unsettling
#Crowley spn#Tw suicide mention#It was the only thing I knew about his storyline going in#And it gave every scene where he’s wallowing or getting yelled at or used or tricked or screwed over by his “friends” this awful tint#Because the scenes were awful enough on their own but knowing what I knew I was just like. I can see why he’s going to kill himself 😐#And then every time something especially bad or unfair or cruel happened to him it had me like this is going to be it#This is when he’s going to do it#I had more than one of those moments even before s12#Now his death as it actually ended up happening had a more purposeful noble sacrifice to it (at least it was supposed to narratively)#(I still think it was the dumbest most pointless shite death ever)#But like… I can’t even say what I’d been picturing for him up to that point#Suffice it to say it was as bleak as it could get#Not that what happened wasn’t at least somewhat bleak (to me) because he still very much took his life after being horribly rejected#But it wasn’t “Crowley alone and drinking as he emotionlessly sets up something Not Good” bleak#Which is more what I had in mind#Anyway as someone who used to be very suicidal I’m just very protective of this character#And his trajectory in the later seasons will never not hit with me in a really horrifying way and I can’t shut up about it#My posts
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I keep thinking of that reply in my Odysseus/Agamemnon post about how I regard differently Odysseus' and Agamemnon's actions, while acknowledging that at times Agamemnon is written as a sweet man and Odysseus is always straight up shitty, and how it was taken as some sort of defense for Agamemnon and as a form of pointing out the double standard; and that wasn't at all what the post was about for me, even though I can see where they were coming from. To be honest, given I didn't imagine it would spread anywhere other than my own blog, I didn't explain myself very well (or at all).
The fact is that when I talked about Odysseus not caring about hurting someone else's child to start and end a war I was indeed comparing his actions to Agamemnon's, but my words about supporting Odysseus' wrongs and cheering him in his terrible actions, while in a joking tone, weren't entirely a joke. I do think that Odysseus does some very shitty acts, and some quite terrible ones depending on the sources. That's a fact, that he does is at the core of his characterisation and it's what makes him so much fun; but not even when he is at his most cruel does he harm his family, his own son. Agamemnon, while sweet and loving at times in some texts, at his worst is willing to sacrifice Iphigenia. When readers regard with more sympathy Odysseus over Agamemnon despite both being responsible for children dying, I don't think there's a double standard in this aspect at all considering it's never his own kid Odysseus harms. And that's the key, I think.
Odysseus and Agamemnon have very different priorities, a very different view on loyalty and duty. It could be said that Agamemnon acts out of selfishness, but it could also be read in a kinder light, saying that Agamemnon is ruled by the gods first, and by his role as head of the achaeans; Agamemnon is not entirely himself. In opposition we see Odysseus acting perhaps mainly for himself and his own family and men; yes, he is a king, but he has not the role Agamemnon has. As a consequence, Agamemnon submits his family's wellbeing to the war, to the gods, while Odysseus stops the plow before hurting Telemachus but is (depending on the source) the cause of Iphigenia's sacrifice and Astyanax's death.
Both Odysseus and Agamemnon have reasons to support their actions, and both can be sympathised with; it's fiction after all. When it comes to fiction, at the end of the day which character a reader is drawn to or sympathises with is mainly an issue of personal taste, but I suppose it also implies a certain level of one's own views or preferences on morals, what makes us find certain actions more justifiable, or tasteful (perhaps that's a more accurate word), than others. Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, no matter how sympathetic or understandable the reason, generally sits worse on people than Odysseus doing the same with someone else's kids, because they're someone else's. This different emotional reaction they provoke has place not just metanarratively, but also inside the very story; it is narratively significant, given it determines how their arrival home plays out, how their wives react to them, and thus their futures. Ultimately it determines whether they live or die.
I think both terrible acts go in line wonderfully with each characterisation, showcasing the role they hold in their world, what they value, what they care for, what they're willing to sacrifice for themselves and the others, how much of their own they're willing to give and bend. While looking at the wider picture it could perhaps be drawn that Agamemnon is the better person out of the two, but Odysseus' selfish actions are perhaps easier to empathise with, especially from a modern viewpoint. Odysseus is treacherous and prone to betrayal, but not against his own; Agamemnon follows the rules of the gods. How fitting in that context that Odysseus doesn't die at the end of his story, that he cheats the death heroes so often are fated to, almost as if cheating the narrative itself, bending the rules of the world he is ascribed to; how fitting in the context of those texts that point towards Sisyphus being his father. But that's another topic, and I've already talked a lot.
#Don't get me wrong. Odysseus is super shitty and this is a 'pick your poison' kind of situation#But I don't really think there's a double standard when it comes to the kids situation given that Odysseus doesn't sacrifice his own kid#I really think that's what lies at the core of this. Does that make him shittier and more selfish and a worse person? Actually yeah perhaps#But we are no kings with thousands of people depending on our decision yet cringe at the idea of hurting people close to us#It feels like betrayal. And this is where the moral preference takes the role. Which do you prefer? The one that would betray their family#for the greater good or the one who'd sell the world for their family and themselves? It's interesting because#while in fiction the first option is often the most frown upon while selfish actions for the beloved are easy to sympathise with‚#in reality these are usually worse regarded. I didn't want to go there because I already wrote so much it didn't fit in the tags#but I actually think the same thing happens with Galahad/Lancelot. Heathcliff/Edgar I'd say has a somewhat similar situation going on#There are many many examples but mainly I was thinking of Galahad and Lancelot#So this is not an 'Odysseus did nothing wrong'. This is an 'Odysseus did many things very wrong but he didn't kill his son#so while both him and Agamemnon were the cause of death of kids‚ their action are not the same so there's no double standard regarding#the particular action of sacrificing Iphigenia. In fiction that kind of betrayal makes characters often unlikeable'#I guess that action 'stains' the view under which Agamemnon's actions are seen and so his character is often seen under a darker light#He is presented a bit as an antagonistic presence opposed to Achilles who is very popular so I guess that also influences this?#Anyway I've been elated by the musical causing Odysseus art and posts but I do have noticed that he is very goodified in it and that#it has influenced how he is being regarded around here (the way it happened with The Song of Achilles as well I suppose)#And I must say I like that less. He is shitty in a fun way but not in a light way. He is very shitty#Definitely not better than Agamemnon depending on the perspective you take. I can't believe I'm 'defending' Agamemnon#He is not my thing at all I'm all for selfish actions for oneself and the loved ones through manipulation‚#lies and scams and letting the world drown if needed. In fiction Lancelot's‚ Odysseus' and Heathcliff's actions are a lot more preferible#to me than Galahad's‚ Agamemnon's and Edgar's. But yeah#I ALSO didn't want to go there because again it would have take me forever and I would run out of tags (yet here I am)#but there's also a Priam/Hector/Paris comparison in how they act and how they're regarded to be drawn here#Agamemnon/Iphigenia‚ Priam/Hector/Paris‚ Odysseus/Telemachus. And that is not even including everything with Elektra/Clytemnestra/Orestes#or Oedipus and his own family for that matter#But yes. I'll better shut up already. I'm talking a lot more than I intended#I just found that discussion super enthralling and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I still can't#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later
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having.. temeren thoughts..
#this happens like clockwork every time we take a game break and then get back into it#we haven't gotten back into it yet but we *were* talking about it which is almost the same thing#writing one of my notes-app mini-essays about temeren and their arc up to this point haha#that like. you know. i could post this or i could hang onto it for my own reference to bring up in-game#not to get too far into it but like.#it's been said that temeren was raised a martyr. and that's more or less true!#like. i think the idea of reaching old age is simply not something they've thought about#and because they fundamentally expect to die in eran's service i suspect that a good chunk of the tension between them#arises a bit from them wanting eran to be someone worth dying for#and he isn't! he simply isn't (not for them at least)#and so they've pursued the ideal of duty as though perfecting its concept and their role will somehow make the whole thing work#but post- their own near-death and with everything else going on the whole thing becomes very much in question#but no. yeah.#very much thinking about future conversations and where we go from here#love the idea of ditching a civil war arc where we support galair. i do not want to support galair. i want to kill him.#i want to go rogue and upend society and I Want To Kill Galair#the duality of it! the imagery! althair's prince vs. doralnum's knight!#i could do such cool art about this.#that said i can only assume that barring some unforeseen circumstances#killing galair will extremely compromise temeren's friendship with fenella#so there's much to think about
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ALRIGHT I’m home now and I also called my mom and my dad was listening in too. Anyway my dad says that that line about going from there is him being like. Into the idea and not just agreeing to hanging out because I’m asking. And my friends were like WOOOHOOOOO but idk man I am so stressed out I don’t want to fuck this up 😭
edited to add (so i dont spam posts tonight) i think on saturday i'll wear my normal clothes and hat but i'll keep my hair down. hes seen me without a hat on briefly (via fieldtrips and wearing hardhats, and at work, but that's with my hair in a bun and a hairnet on) but hes never seen my hair like. Down. and i want saturday to be like subtly special. not like knock his socks off special but yknow. a little more vulnerable than jeans and a sweatshirt
#I mean you guys have literally been here since I was first like ohhhh#man idk. I like him and I want to see what happens#and I think I’ll stay in SD a little longer anyway because I really cannot go home. it’s so fucking noisy and smelly all the time#argghhhhhh. okay I’m going to eat dinner now#I love you tumblrinas#alright im back from dinner. anyway that thing about staying in SD is like if I DO end up in a relationship i dont want it to just end#and hes staying in SD. but unless i got a job at His Job we'd be commuting anyway#but 2 hours or whatever is better than 14#anyway. im getting ahead of myself. but i just need a good reason to not go home#i just cant do it. i cant go home.#for one thing. its easier to deal with the grief if im not Right There looking at his food dishes every day#oogh also.... hes gonna have to hear about sam eventually. especially if we start dating. which will coincide with March pretty well#i dont know about that....#i mean i told my friends tonight i was like 'i have so many secrets' and they were like you dont have to tell him EVERYTHING.#but idk i do feel like if im gonna trust someone enough to date them they should know my secrets#im so scared lol idk how people just do this shit#also what if hes a good little christian boy and hates gay people. IM a gay people.#okay anyway i NEED to study for repro like this is life or death. i need to pass repro#(life or death bc either me or dad will end me if i fail lmaooooo)#boy post
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tw: black+trans death
from the_yvesdropper on instagram:
our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.
he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.
Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.
one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :
"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"
(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)
Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.
there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother
there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)
judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:
I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...
#op#rest in power#black trans lives matter#death -#black death -#trans death -#didn't add a tw to the top of this post at first. sorry everyone.
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GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE
✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW
contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.
author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍
“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.
ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.
“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”
you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.
satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.
“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene.
“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.
“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?
you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”
“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.
“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against.
“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”
“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”
you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room.
now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.
kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.
a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor.
“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.
kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”
for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.
“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.
despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal?
it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.
“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.
kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”
your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”
kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”
well, fuck.
“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”
“you too, detective. stay safe.”
“i’ll do my best.”
kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.
you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.
the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”
you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.
“what the fu—”
satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.
“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”
you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own.
“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.
true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?
“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.
“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.
satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”
you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”
“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second.
“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”
“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.
“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.
“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”
“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.
satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”
you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”
“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”
your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”
“you wouldn’t dare.”
“wouldn’t i?”
you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”
“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”
satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”
he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.
“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”
“do i have a choice?”
“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket.
seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.
and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.
“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”
you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.
but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.
“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”
“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips.
“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”
he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.
“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.
“suck my dick.”
part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you.
“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.
the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate.
satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”
and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.
“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”
it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.
satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”
when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin.
“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.
it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you.
so, naturally, you stab him in the back.
not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat.
satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?
at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.
“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”
“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.
satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”
and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.
what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.
but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”
#osaemu#gojo smut#jjk smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x y/n
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Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.
Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.
Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.
Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.
For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.
And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the
✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨
Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.
Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.
Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.
Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.
Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.
Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.
Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.
Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."
Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.
Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.
Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.
#bg3#bg3 headcanons#bg3 meta#astarion x tav#astarion x durge#mom said it's my turn to project on the blorbo#astarion ancunin
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What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?
I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.
Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:
[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]
The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)
Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)
In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.
In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.
Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)
Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.
Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.
The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.
Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.
But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!
So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.
This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.
Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.
Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.
Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.
Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.
Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.
Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"
THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.
Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.
(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)
Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.
Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.
All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.
Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:
There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)
Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.
They are all so stupid.
Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)
Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.
OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.
Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:
THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!
Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.
Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.
Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.
I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)
ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)
SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:
Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.
Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.
Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.
Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.
Jason is so scared.
THE END.
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Mama - a Red Hood fanfic
Directly inspired by this post by @webshood
Excerpt:
You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.
The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.
Among the top Don’ts were:
Crime in Crime Alley
Crimes against women in Crime Alley
Crimes against children in Crime Alley
Mama
It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been so goddam cute.
Felicia Aidia, barely a year old. Couldn’t quite walk yet, but she could stand unassisted for five seconds of startled jubilance before her own shock at the situation would send her flopping back on her adorable diapered butt. Huge almond eyes that were nearly black, wispy black hair and full pink cheeks, she looked altogether too cherubic to be real.
Felicia had been strapped safely in a booster seat, poking at the condensation on the window of the rideshare car she was in with her babysitter, when they were carjacked by an idiot with either a death wish or less situational awareness than a stoned beetle.
There was no other excuse for why this man jacked a She-Share, one of the brightly-marked cars in a fleet that was famous for being Gotham’s first rideshare company to boast child seats in every one of their vehicles at no extra cost.
They were famously affordable and primarily utilised by single parents in low-income areas such as Crime Alley.
You don’t jack a car in Crime Alley. And you definitely don’t jack a car in Crime Alley that almost certainly has a child in it.
The “Welcome To Gotham: 10 Things You Need To Know” pamphlets that Harley Quinn earnestly distributed to newcomers to the Gotham underworld were very clear about Red Hood’s list of Dos and Don’t.
Among the top Don’ts were:
Crime in Crime Alley
Crimes against women in Crime Alley
Crimes against children in Crime Alley
The car thief had shoved the driver and Felicia’s babysitter out of the vehicle but utterly failed to notice the giant car seat and the appropriately-sized child occupying it.
A city-wide Amber Alert was out within minutes, which honestly was pretty good considering it happened in Crime Alley and Gotham police liked to pretend that area was just a mysterious Bermuda Triangle kinda place where people just mysteriously went missing, who can say why, oh well, what can you do.
The police were fast but Red Hood was faster.
The vigilante was leaping across rooftops with the speed of a panther. One police helicopter pilot completely forgot their assignment and started following him instead of the stolen car. People livestreamed blurry videos of the car careening around corners that hadn’t yet been blocked off, panning up to catch a glimpse of red metal and brown leather streaking across the sky in pursuit.
The end was anticlimactic. Hood crashed onto the roof of the car from the awning of a deli like a feral beast and punched straight through the driver’s side window. He knocked the driver out and wrested control of the vehicle until it skidded to a stop a few blocks away from the official police cordon.
Before any officers got there, Hood had hogtied the unconscious car thief and carefully extracted Felicia from her carseat.
She let out a small, uncertain wail at the sight and sound of cheering locals, crowding close to film and too boisterous with relief to realise they were scaring a baby.
Felicia pouted. It had been loud, and then fast, and then unfamiliar, and then loud again, and suddenly she was outside, and she was supposed to be napping, and she didn’t know any of these people.
Wait, yes she did. The man cradling her protectively with one arm and holding the other out to the crowd, telling them to, “Back off, back off, give her some space,”, she’d seen him before. She didn’t know how but he was familiar. His big red face (no eyes, very strange, no mouth too! How did he suck his thumb?) wasn’t scary. He was the man on the wall painting! The big wall near the playground had a picture of him painted on it. The playground was safe, and he reminded her of the playground. He was holding her protectively and he was all nice and warm.
Felicia didn’t know many words. But she did know the word she used for the person who felt safest.
“Mama!” she said loudly, clinging to the red man’s arm. “Mama!”
“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said in a very soothing voice for someone without a mouth, “We’ll get your mom.”
A police officer arrived and tried to take Felicia away. She did not appreciate it.
“Mama!” she cried louder, torn between frustration and fear. No one ever listened to her! She reached for the red man. “MAMA!”
Well. Like we said. She was so goddam cute. All eyes were on her fat little face, her adorable, freshly-rescued, chubby little hands reaching out to Red Hood. Everyone was filming her on their phones.
And she called the Red Hood “Mama”, in a perfectly clear, tiny, adorable little baby voice.
Of course it went viral.
For a while, it was a fun in-joke between Gothamites. People playing vigilante bingo to see who they’d spot each night would jokingly ask each other if they’d seen “Mama” down by the docks. Goons blustered amongst themselves that “Mama” didn’t scare them, as they kept their heads down and prayed he didn’t notice them. One bold news website captioned a picture as “Red Hood/Mama” in a story about Felicia’s rescue, while the commenters lost their minds either rofl skull skull skull dying laughing or warning the editors that they should be careful in case the trigger-happy vigilante didn’t have a sense of humour.
Closer to Hood’s home though, the reception was different. And, to him, wholly unexpected.
It started with Felix, the 16-year-old who’d been a sex worker until Hood cleaned up the under-18 scene in the Alley, and who now helped shuttle street kids to the lowkey safehouses Hood and his team had set up. Felix was a good middleman the kids trusted to take them somewhere with food, water, electricity, and no one called CPS. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good compromise until Hood could clean the stink out of the city’s social services.
Felix was smoking on a stack of crates one night, chatting to a couple of his friends, when Hood strolled over.
“Hola, Mama,” Felix greeted casually, taking a drag of his cigarette as his friends choked.
Hood just sighed. “Not you too.” With a weary exhale, he got to business. “I got those extra blankets you needed for the safehouse on Cedar. They’re at the Warehouse B if you want to run them over tonight. Sheila knows you’re coming, she’ll sort you out.”
And so, with Felix not dead and two witnesses with big mouths to tell the tale, word spread. It was open season on Red Hood’s new nickname.
“Hey, mama!” called the girls on the corner as Hood checked to make sure none of the johns had gotten too rough.
“Mama’s here!” crowed the gays and theys across the block as he dropped off condoms and hot soup.
“It’s mama!” announced the receptionist at the shelter when Red Hood stopped by to do an inventory check.
Everywhere he went.
Whatever. It would pass. People’s attention spans were shot to shit, and the loudest viral jokes always burnt out the fastest. At least, Hood was pretty sure. He wasn’t really online much but it was impossible to exist in the world without hearing a few meme references, and they always seemed to die out fast. When was the last time anyone talked about Baby Shark? Or that kid who said “corn” weird? This would blow over.
Granted, it was taking a bit longer than Hood initially expected.
When Dick gleefully changed his name in the Family Chat, Jason ignored it. He never replied to that thing anyway.
When Red Robin said, “Mama, you’re clear,” in perfectly neutral tones during an otherwise routine surveillance operation, and several comm lines immediately muted themselves, Jason ignored it.
When Damian’s new black kitten, with huge blue eyes and a white streak on the forehead, was named Mama, Jason started to get annoyed. Even DAMIAN?
When Roy answered his call with, “Mama, I missed you!” followed by thirty seconds of unhinged cackling, Jason hung up the phone and didn’t speak to Roy for three days.
When Cass used the ASL sign for Mom to relay information to him during a mission brief, his shoulders dropped.
When Alfred gave him an exquisite pink cupcake on the second Sunday of May, Jason thanked him, left the room, walked into the nearest bathroom, carefully put the cupcake on the bench, and screamed into a towel for six minutes.
When Duke finished a story about growing up in the Narrows with, “Mama knows what I’m talking about, right?”, Jason was defeated.
Fine. They win. Everyone wins.
He worked so hard on a legacy. He dug out of his own GRAVE. He clawed himself back from insanity and anger and reclaimed himself, reclaimed Red Hood, reclaimed his home. He carved a new space for himself, not quite a vigilante, not quite a villain. He made his own rules. He built an empire.
And now, he’s FUCKING Mama.
Life isn’t fair. Sometimes the Joker kills you and you sever heads and butcher bad guys and build up a reputation and then one goddam adorable child says two goddam syllables and you’re fucking MAMA for the rest of your goddam life.
Fuck it. He’s going home. He’s too tired for this shit.
#batman#red hood#jason todd#dick grayson#batfamily#roy harper#tim drake#damian wayne#duke thomas#harley quinn#batman fanfiction#crime alley#crack fic
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mad love (e.williams)
a day in the life of you and your girlfriend, notorious killer, ellie williams.
-A/N:This is an excerpt for a longer series i’m working on, which takes place in that same universe. I hope you all like it, if so I’ll post the first chapter! important note at the end too :)
-CW:extreme blood kink,possessive ellie, choking, breeding kink, degradation, strap on sex, spit kink, finger sucking, oral fixation, body worship, praise kink, domesticity kink? (is that a thing?)
-i do NOT condone any of these things irl as a disclaimer, this is a work of fiction.
˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹
It all happened in a blur. Ellie came home from her latest kill, still giddy with excitement. The adrenaline was pulsing through her veins, and she was practically bouncing off the walls.
She swings the door to the penthouse open and kicks off her steel toed boots, the same she had used to stomp her victim’s face into the ground.
She knew you’d scold her for getting blood on the hardwood you just cleaned, but she was too excited to care. She looks around for any sign of you, but all she sees is an empty room.
She checks the bedroom. Nope, not there. All of a sudden, she hears running water. She silently makes her way towards the bathroom, careful to not alert you. The door is unlocked, so she pushes it open quietly.
You’re humming contentedly to yourself in the shower, some pop song you’d heard on the radio.
With a devilish grin on her face, Ellie jerked the shower curtain to the side. Not expecting it, you scream bloody murder.
Ellie just stands there, beaming at you. Her eyes drop down to your naked body, and she wolf whistles. “Looking good babe.”
You roll your eyes. “You scared me half to death, you dick.” You reply. She smiles, reaching out to touch your cheek. You jerk away from her, and she frowns.
“Come on, gimme a kiss.” You shake your head and point to her clothes. “Take those off and get in here.” You tell her. She wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh? Are you trying to get dirty again?” She asks, laughing.
You whack her lightly on the arm as she strips off her clothes. “No, I just don’t want to use up all the hot water and leave you with none.” You reply.
She coos. “That’s sweet of you, babe.” She steps in the shower with you, letting the water run down her body. You take note of a few scrapes and cuts, ones that weren’t there earlier when she left.
“I take it they fought back?” You asked, a finger tracing one of the most prominent ones. She sighs. “Yeah, but I got him in the end.” She replied. You run your fingers through her wet hair, washing out some of the dirt.
“Who was it this time?” You ask. She turns around to face you. “Some rich dude who was involved with Joel’s crew back in the day. He fucked them over, didn’t pay back his debts. If it were me I would’ve killed him right there.” She groans in pain as you run your fingers over a bruise on her chest.
“Sorry.” You murmur, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She continues. “I took care of it though, you know me, I hold grudges.” You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re still mad at me for beating you in Mario Kart.” She sticks her tongue out.
“Whatever, you cheated.” “I did not!” You exclaim, splashing her with water. She laughs, moving out of the way. You turn back around and start to lather yourself up with soap, when you feel Ellie’s hands start to wander.
“Babe?” You call her. “Hm, what’s up?” She replies, hands going lower. “What’re you doing back there?” You ask.
You know for a fact she’s smirking as she remains silent, moving her hand down to slap your ass.
“Ellie!” You scold, turning around. “What? Come on, you knew it was coming!” You shake your head with a grin.
“Hurry up and get washed up, I’ll start dinner soon.” You tell her. She nods and continues her routine. You step out of the shower a few minutes later, with her in tow. You’re able to dry off and avoid her wandering hands. “They have a mind of their own, babe!” She’d told you once.
Once you’re dressed, you step out into the kitchen and grab one of the cookbooks from the shelf. “Els, what do you feel like tonight?” You ask. She doesn’t reply. You turn around, looking for her. “Ellie?” You call.
She appears behind you suddenly, wrapping her arms around your waist. She buries her face into your neck and inhales, groaning softly. “Shit, Ellie..” You mutter, pulling her closer. “You smell so good, fuck. I missed you so much.” You grin, leaning into her embrace. “I missed you too.”
Her tongue darts out to run across your neck, making you shiver. She slowly kisses her way up, until she reaches your lips. At this point you’re desperate, so you pull her into a hungry kiss.
She moans into it, her hands wandering down to squeeze your ass. Her tongue slides into your mouth, tangling with yours. When she pulls away, you’re both panting. “Take me to bed.” You tell her, looping your arms around her waist.
She grins and lifts you into her arms, carrying you to the bedroom. You loved how strong she was, how effortlessly she could pick you up and carry you around.
You also loved the little things she’d do for you, like lifting heavy things even if you were perfectly capable. Her love language was acts of service, and it definitely showed in her daily life with you.
While your thoughts were wandering, Ellie placed you down gently onto the bed. She pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you smiled up at her. “I take it you’re still on an adrenaline high?” You ask.
She nods, grinning like a maniac. “Mhm, you’re right. You gonna let me use you?” Her words cause you to blush. “Yes daddy.” You reply in a sultry tone.
Ellie’s pupils dilate. “Fuck. Let me take these off, baby.” She tells you as she begins to tug at your shirt.
You let her undress you, and she pauses for a moment, smirking up at you. “You didn’t put any panties on?” She asked. You blush. “They’re all in the laundry.” Ellie raises an eyebrow. “I just did the laundry.”
You groan, covering your face. “Shut up, you know why I didn’t put any on.” She laughs. “I know, sweetheart. Wanted me to have easy access, huh? Such a slut.”
You’re pretty sure you’re dripping onto the mattress at this point, and Ellie decides to take mercy on you. She slowly circles your entrance with two fingers, while using her thumb to massage your clit. “Ellie..” You moan softly, and she shushes you.
“Just relax baby, I’ve got you.” Her fingers move slowly in and out of you, making a shiver go up your spine.
“That’s my girl, so fucking wet.” She crooned into your ear. The wet squelching sounds of her fingers fucking you echoed off the bedroom walls, and Ellie grinned. “Aw, did this pussy miss me that much?” She asked, lips grazing your jawline.
Ellie’s thumb strokes slowly up and down your swollen clit, while holding you down to the mattress with her other hand. “Poor thing, she didn’t even touch you while I was gone? You must be so pent up.” The realization that she’s not talking to you, but to your pussy, makes your face grow hot.
It was degrading and demeaning, like you were nothing more than a toy, and you loved it. When a soft whimper leaves your lips, Ellie decides to take pity on you in her own special way.
You hadn’t noticed that she’d put the strap on, so you gasped when she pressed against you. You shut your eyes in anticipation and Ellie tuts in response, pushing into you.
She starts thrusting slowly, a low groan coming from the back of her throat. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. Yeah, this pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn’t it?” She asks, grabbing your face with one hand.
You nod, and she glares at you. “Say it.” When you take too long to respond, she slips two fingers into your mouth. “If you can’t speak properly, put your mouth to better use.” You do as she says, not wanting to push her any further.
She keeps a steady movement, her hips slamming into yours while your tongue swirls around her fingers. She pulls them out of your mouth suddenly, and spreads them apart in front of your face.
A thin string of saliva connects them, and she brings those same fingers to her mouth and wraps her lips around them. You moan at this, rocking your hips to meet her thrusts.
Ellie grunts and leans over you, green eyes piercing into yours. “Open.” She orders.
You let your jaw hang slack, and stare up at her. She opens her mouth, letting your mixed saliva trail down to her tongue.
She spits into your open mouth, and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her flannel. “Swallow.” She orders, eyes never leaving yours. You do so, and she hums in approval.
She starts to fuck you faster, her pace brutal and unforgiving. When you look away for too long, Ellie grips your throat.
“Fucking look at her baby, look at the way she swallows my fucking cock. No no, don’t you dare look away.” She grunts.
You moan loudly, nails digging crescents into her back. You feel a bit bad, since her back was pretty scratched up from her victim earlier. She didn’t seem to mind though, as she was currently groaning into your ear.
“God, you’re makin’ such a mess. You’re a dirty fucking whore, you know that?” She asks, reaching up to roll your nipple between her fingers. “Just for you.” You breathe, back arching in response to her touch.
She lets go of your nipple and squishes your cheeks between her free hand once more, forcing you to open your mouth.
She leaned in to kiss you, letting her tongue slide against yours. She bit down, causing you to yelp. You kept kissing her nonetheless, as the taste of blood invaded your mouth.
You moan louder at this, and Ellie kisses you harder. When she pulls away, she gives you a lazy smile, her eyes half lidded. “I should come home all bloody one of these days, yeah?” She asked. “Fuck you while I’m covered in it, you’d look so pretty.” She groans at the image inside her head, pounding into you faster.
She has a tight grip on your hips, and you’re absolutely certain you’ll have bruises in the morning, but you don’t care. Ellie speaks up. “Oh fuck, I can feel you clenching around me. You like that idea baby? You want me to come home straight from a kill and fuck you, let the blood stain your skin?”
You rake your nails down her back, hard enough to draw blood. She hisses, a mixture of pain and pleasure, and continues to thrust into you.
“You’re a depraved fucking whore, nothing but a nasty slut. How long have you been waiting for my cock for, huh?” Ellie asked.
You whine in response, fucking yourself on her strap. “I’ll fucking give it to you baby, don’t worry. Anything you want princess, just say the word. I’d, fuck-” A particularly hard thrust. “I’d do anything for you.”
The weight behind her words and the emotion in her voice almost tipped you over the edge. You decide to ask her a question that’s been on your mind since the first time you found out who she really was. “Would you kill for me?” You ask her.
Ellie could’ve cum from just that question.
“Course I would baby, my girl gets whatever she wants, whenever she wants it.” She reaches down to pinch your clit between her fingers.
You moan as a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. “You spoil me too much.” You tell her. It’s half teasing, half sincere. She just coos down at you, speeding up. “Just take it baby.” She tells you.
You’re not sure whether she’s talking about her strap or her lavish treatment of you, but you decide not to question it.
“I meant what I said doll, anything for you. Cars, clothes, those expensive perfumes you like..” Ellie trails off, getting lost in the way you writhe and moan underneath her.
She takes in your soft skin, your pretty face and..how good you’d look carrying her baby. God, the thought alone could make her cum right then and there.
She’d considered it before, settling down, starting a family with you. She knew she’d have to change her ways for that, but she didn’t mind.
She meant it when she said she’d do anything for you. While the two of you did have a breeding kink, you’d never really explored past that initial conversation.
Ellie decides to test the waters. “Fuck, m’ gonna make you such a pretty little housewife. Gonna come home from work and fuck you on top of the same table we eat from, we’re gonna do such nasty shit-“ You sob, thrusting your hips to meet hers. “Yes.” You choke out.
Bingo. She’s got the green light, feels like she’s won the damn lottery.
She continues on. “Yeah, you like that baby? Wanna be my wife? You gonna let me fuck a baby into this pretty pussy? Gonna let me make you a mama?” You cry out, you’re so close, and she laughs condescendingly. “So fucking cute.” A kiss to your lips. “You want me to breed you that badly, baby? Stuff you full of my cum? The sneer in her tone was undeniable.
“Yes Ellie,keep me stuck here with you, bind me to you forever, please daddy-“
Your cries are cut off by Ellie, who lets out a loud guttural moan. She cums onto the strap, soaking your chest and stomach.
You follow soon after, a mixture of soft moans and pleas leaving your throat.
After a few moments of silence broken by occasional heavy panting, Ellie manages to catch her breath. “That was- fucking incredible.” She murmured against your chest.
You laugh. “It was.” You’re absentmindedly stroking her sweaty hair, trying to find the energy to get up and go to the bathroom.
When you finally stand up on wobbly legs, Ellie’s right behind you. However, her legs are shaky too, so she’s not much better off. The two of you hobble to the bathroom, holding onto the wall for support.
Once you finally reach it, Ellie turns on the water to start a bath. She dumps some soap in, and turns back to face you. “C’mon, I’ll help you in.”
You lean against her once you’re both in the tub, and sigh contentedly. “You planning on actually getting clean this time?” You ask her.
She presses her face into your neck to hide her smirk. “Maybe.” She replies. You laugh and she lifts her head up, grinning at you.
You take a moment to take it all in. How despite everything you and Ellie had been through, you were still here. She was still here. You bump your forehead against hers.
“Hey.” You murmur. She gives you a toothy grin and brushes your noses together. “Hey.” You reach up and caress her cheek, and she closes her eyes.
“I’m really glad you’re okay. I love you.” You tell her.
You’ve told her this tons of times, it shouldn’t be anything new. However, she stills get choked up every time you say it.
“I love you too.” She replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.
You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew she’d be there by your side.
_________________
Thanks for reading this far if you have! I wanted to drop where i got my inspiration for this from. It’s from a book by Eden Emory, in the club petale series. Inspiration for Ellie’s personality comes from Avery, a character in the third book. I implore you all to read that book series, it’s genuinely one of my favorites. Please heed the tws though!
#ellie williams smut#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams tlou2#ellie the last of us 2#ellie tlou2#ellie williams x reader smut#ellie williams the last of us 2
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Elevator Pitch
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
WC: 2k!!
Warnings: Smut, fingering, semi-public sex/ foreplay, praise kink-ish, some pet names completely ignored Spencer's germophobia to make this work 18+ MINORS DNI
Summary: Getting trapped in an elevator is never fun, but at least the attractive you're sharing the metal box of death with has an interesting idea about how you can pass the time.
A/N: This is just a really quick drabble for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute challenge for this month!! I have an idea for another one that I'll post closer to Halloween too, so look forward to that alongside all the kinktober fics 👀
Check out my masterlist here!
You weren't planning on running late on your very first day on your new team, but here you were. You were scheduled to meet Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner in his office at 9 a.m. sharp, and here you were at 8:57, trapped inside an elevator. At least you weren't alone, but alone with a stranger, and one who seemed to be talkative in the worst way wasn't exactly ideal either.
"Hey, don't panic. There are about 6 elevator-related deaths per year and about 100,000 injuries. I'm pretty confident about those statistics." He said, taking a sip of his coffee as he stood calmly by the door, pressing buttons and waiting for something to happen.
"Oh god, I'm gonna die in here." You whimpered a little bit, falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut.
"No, I said we're not gonna die. Or its at least very unlikely."
"And I'm supposed to trust you?"
"Yes, I'm very good with numbers. Elevator accidents account for 0.00024% of all elevators in service in the US. There you don't have to panic anymore." Almost punctuating his words, the elevator gave a low groan and fell an inch lower, pushing him off balance and toppling to the floor right next to you.
"That was just unfortunate timing." He said, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes opened again finally, and you noticed that due to his topple, he was way closer than before, face merely inches from your own. Whoever this overconfident stranger was, he was attractive. Distractingly so, as you didn't respond to his sentence the entire time he was there in front of you, words suddenly escaping you as you stared into his dark, wide eyes.
"Mechanical issues are the cause of about 15.3% of elevator incidents. Since we're in Quantico, we can probably rule out foul play, which means that they'll probably have us back up and running in around 27 minutes." Opening his mouth ruined the fantasy for a minute, waking you up to the reality of your situation.
"Did you work an elevator case or something, why do you know so much about this?" You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, as he launched into another speech.
"I read the statistical reports published by the CPSC and the OSHA. It’s really interesting stuff actually, there are-”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way but I need you to shut up. I don’t think I can take any more statistics about my inevitable death by elevator. Can we do something else instead?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Can you… Can you hold my hand?” You felt yourself flush red the second the words left your mouth, and suddenly it was your turn to talk too much. “My mom used to do it when I was scared as a kid, and obviously you’re not my mom, and you don’t even know me, but I thought it could help comfort both of us. Human contact and touch is supposedly comforting in times of distress so I just thought…” He cut you off by silently grabbing your hand and settling into a seated position beside you and you sent a little prayer up to god to spare both your soul and your heart.
Because Jesus Christ it was beating hard now.
“Oxytocin,” he said and you looked up at him with a questioning look. “Oxytocin is released when you come into contact with other people, it’s the reason newborn babies benefit from skin-to-skin contact and why humans enjoy petting domestic animals so much. And the whole sex to destress thing.” He nodded and looked away, but you could have sworn the oxygen was completely sucked out of the room when he mentioned sex.
“Sex?” He turned to you as you said the word, as if processing the conversation you were in the middle of it.
“Yeah, never heard of it?” You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hand in your own for a second, but his body was leaning closer into yours now, his entire attention on you, as if he expected you to answer the question.
“Of course I have.”
“And what do you think? Can it help you de-stress?”
Your mouth moves before you can stop it. “Can we stop talking about this please, I’m already scared, I don’t need to be scared and horny.” You close your eyes and groan as his widen again, and suddenly you’re praying again, but this time you wouldn’t really mind if you became one of those six elevator malfunction deaths.
“I don’t know, maybe it would help you. There are some studies that show that stress can have aphrodisiacal impacts in women, you know?” His voice was light, but your entire body stiffened as you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge what this stranger was offering.
“So what, you’re suggesting I just get more and more turned on until I’m not worried about death?”
“No, I’m suggesting I close the gap between us and distract you for a while.” You spared a glance down to his lips then, his tongue darting out to lick them and pulling you in closer. You nodded quickly, a small movement and he pushed his lips down into yours.
He was soft at first, and you almost felt like pulling away and scalding yourself for engaging in risky behavior during a near-death experience. But just as you moved to pull away, his hand came up to your hair and you melted right back into him, the kiss deepening as you slanted your neck up to give up more of yourself to him.
You barely feel his hands pulling you into his lap, but you’re suddenly there and so happy you are. Your free hand wanders up to his chest as he squeezes your connected digits again, sending your heart into a fit of palpitations. In a panic you pull away, groaning a little as you can feel his not stiff member poking between your legs.
“Sorry, I don’t think we exchanged names. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N..”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His lips fall down to your neck as he whispers the words into your skin, and you let your head fall back as his hands untangle from you and fall to your hips, encouraging your movements as you begin grinding over him.
“And you said we had twenty-seven minutes before we’re free, right?”
“Whose the one talking too much now?” He bit into your neck sharply then, and you moaned out, battling the urge to let him take you there on the elevator floor. From it’s perch on your hip, his hand slips down and pops the button in your pants, pushing inside and finally touching you through your panties.
“That’s it, good girl, just keep grinding down on me.” Unconsciously, you press your hips into his hands, the pressure leaving you letting out a whistful sigh of relief.
“God,… Should we be doing this here?” Your words were unsure, but your movements weren’t as you pushed yourself into him again and again, desperate to feel more of him as he rubbed circles into your clit, driving you closer and closer to your peak.
“Let’s assume for now that the elevator malfunction has wiped out the CCTV,” he says, lips pressing against your skin as you lose yourself in his touch again. “We absolutely should be doing this.”
His words fell straight to your core, and you felt yourself grow more aroused as you pondered being caught in such an intimate position with a stranger.
“You think you can cum right here, baby? Think you can give me one soon?” His words almost sent you over the edge, his smile widening as your hips twitched over his.
“Fuck, yes, yes, please, don’t stop.”
“Not so scared about this elevator anymore are you? Or did you want to spend your last moments coming undone in my hands?” With his words, you lost the ability to speak, simply moaning out your agreement to his every word.
“I think I can hear someone talking through the walls, baby, you’re going to have to cum now for me, can you do that?” You nodded to him as he increased his pace on your words, and within seconds, you were letting it all out, head falling against his shoulder as you twitched through your orgasm. He pulled his hands out of your pants quickly and pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling you up to a standing position and making you look presentable as the doors to the elevator were finally pried open from the other side.
“Hey, how are you guys holding up in there?” The call came from the maintenance staff, and you were sudden;y thankful that he’d finished you off when he did because as horny as you’d been, actually getting caught like that was something entirely different than the fantasy of it.
You’re almost sorry that you have to leave when you do, suddenly absolutely involved in helping him “destress” the same way he’d helped you out. But he removes his hands from you and strikes up a conversation with the maintenance staff working to get your elevator level with the floor doors. You gravitate to the back of the stall, gripping the railing while your brain catches up to the circumstances.
In no time, the elevator is back in working order, and you and your stranger are stepping foot on steady ground again, and saying your goodbyes.
“Aaron Hotchner’s office is through those doors. Up the stairs to the left.” He smiles and nods at you before turning down the corridor and leaving you there by yourself. A glance at your clock tells you you’re too late to question his words, and how he even knew where you were going. You take off down the hall, ready to profusely apologize to your new boss and pledge to take the stairs for the rest of your days.
When Hotch finally greets you, he has already heard about the elevator malfunction, and all is thankfully forgiven. You have to bite your tongue before asking if everyone on this floor is psychic. But you’re still late, and you have a case, so your introductions have to take place in the briefing room and you half-run, half-walk behind the older man as he makes his way down the hall.
“Everyone we have a new team member today, please help her out for this first one and show her the ropes.” He introduces you by name, and you’re suddenly doing your best to memorize the names of a Prentiss, a Rossi, a Morgan, a JJ, and one Penelope Garcia. They seem to be waiting for someone else, but with the clock ticking, Penelope begins debriefing you on the next case.
“Sorry I’m late,” a voice calls from the door, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand up in shock as everyone slowly turns to greet the newcomer.
“What time do you call this?” Morgan laughs as the familiar man approaches, and a quick glance around tells you that the only seat left at the table, which had been so obviously reserved by the pile of paper files in contrast to everyone else's digital alternatives, was right next to you.
“Spencer, we have a new team member, this is Y/N. She’ll be joining us on cases from today onwards.” Hotch quickly says, and you lock eyes with the man just as he falls into his seat.
“I think we’re acquainted. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer Reid.” The room falls silent as he holds out his hand for you to shake, and you do your best to not show your shock and embarrassment on your face. You let your hand fall into his, the same one that you’d held earlier, the same one that had worked you up to the edge and then helped you pour over it, the same one that had pulled you together afterward. You said nothing after you’d finally pulled apart, waiting for him to make the next move once again.
“I look forward to working with you.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds smut#meet cute#mentioningmargins
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