#Though her version of the facts was not very reliable either

[lovesitcomsandgaystuffs]

Azz will write his memoirs as the right hand of the Demon King Iruma, and the book will have to be sold with a huge warning about historical inaccuracies.

[sparklingmusicofstars]

Catarina's romantic tastes

Who is most likely to end up with Catarina ?

To me, it's definitely Geordo, he has the most romantic moments and is with Catarina most of the time. We have his POV very often in almost all the volume, especially where we can see how much he loves her. He is also definitely one of Catarina's closest friend. Now I think that 4 people can possibly be considered as romantic interests by Catarina. These people are Geordo, Keith, Maria and Sora. But they are all missing something very important to be loved romantically by Catarina.

I think that to be loved romantically by Catarina (I also look at the game for that) you need 4 important things :

Someone very reliable, someone she can rely on, protect her and that she wouldn't have to hide anything from them and of course be able to "scold" her when she is doing reckless things

Someone she can be comfortable with, who doesn't want her to behave in a particular way

Someone who can makes her feel good, because Catarina seems to have a serious inferiority complex, this person would have to help her having more self-confidence.

Someone who can makes romantic advances (not too much) without being uneasy.

For the time being the only persons who have all these qualities (or almost) are Raphael, Sora (Aaqil), (Cezar) and maybe Nicol.

I unfortunately won't put Sophia because she is "best friend" ranked and she is helping Nicol.

Geordo : 1, (2), (4)

Geordo almost have all these qualities but he is missing a very important thing, he is not able to make her having more self confidence and that's one of the reason Catarina can't love him (now) romantically. Honestly I don't particulary like or hate Geordo (though I HATE his version in verge of doom) But one of the reason I can't love him is because it's partly his fault if Catarina lacks so much self confidence. At first I thought he didn't know about her inferiority complex but in LN13 he told her that she is always undervaluing herself so it means he knows. Moreover there is the fact that Catarina is literally harassed by the noble ladies who want to become Geordo's fiancée, he is doing nothing to stop this harassement, even if Catarina has a strong heart it doesn't mean that it can't hurt her, she is still a human. The reason why Catarina doesn't react is because she thinks that they are right, that she is not worthy of being Geordo's fiancée and that she doesn't have any qualities. I mean, Catarina is okay on Geordo CHEATING on her because she is "not good enough for him" and because she is a "villainess". It won't lead them anywhere. I think Geordo is horrible for not trying to put an end to this because I'm sure that if he has done that Catarina wouldn't have so much of an inferiority complex and could more easily love him. After all "To love someone you need to love yourself first" so as long as Catarina doesn't love herself she won't be able to love anyone. To put it simply, the reason why Catarina is so dense is because she lacks too much self confidence.

Keith : 1, (2)

In Keith's case he is lacking the 2,3 and 4. unfortunately for him he is acting too motherly so Catarina can't see him as a man, what's more he is always calling her "big sister" and it won't help him. I won't deny that Keith is a gentle man but it's also mostly his fault if Catarina is always undervaluing herself. I know that people think that he is just scolding her about that not being ladylike but he never tried to praise her even just a little to make her feel better. He didn't even try to stop the harrasement either. And he is too dependent on her to make the progress in their relationship. And honesly I don't understand why people who love Catarina can love her mother. I think she can be very mean and heartless, as good proof of it when Catarina was kidnapped she was sure that her mother would just abandon her if the ransom was too much, I felt very sad for her at that moment. And she also scolds Catarina too much and for almost nothing sometimes. Honestly If I had a mother like that I would be very gloomy all the time. So, If Keith wants Catarina to see him as a man he needs to act more manly and be more sensitive to how she feels.

Mary : 2,4

Mary is very similar to Keith for some things because, like him, she worsens Catarina's complex (though not as much as him) . By always telling Catarina how difficult it is to be a prince's consort she makes Catarina feel very bad about herself. And even if Catarina feels comfortable around Mary she doesn't see her as a reliable figure who can protect her and Mary isn't able to say the right words to make her feel better. Though regarding the romantic advances she would have no problem. But now she is more trying to protect her from her rivals.

Maria : 2 ,(3)

Even though Maria can be reliable she is unable to protect Catarina and Catarina can't see her as someone she can really rely on (since she has to save Maria all the time). Maria can't make romantic advances and is not serious about it and even if Catarina is comfortable with her she can't help but think of Maria as "the heroine" which creates a distance between them. And Maria unfortunately can't help her with her inferiority complex nor make Catarina feel better about it.

Alan : (1),2, (3), (4)

I have mixed feelings for Alan, because he has 1, 2 but he is lacking the others qualities. Unlike Keith and Geordo he doesn't make Catarina's complex worse but he still can't make her feel better about it. Maybe part of it is because they spend little time together and rarely alone. And even if he teases her and can be rude sometimes he is still very honest and gentle (when he wants it) And tsunderes are always very popular ^^ He just needs to learn how to act more manly and learn to be less shy with relationships and it will be perfect. Because if Catarina see Keith as a mother, she see Alan as a child and doesn't take him seriously in romance matters.

Nicol : 1, 2, 3, (4)

About Nicol, I think he has 1,2,3 but is lacking a bit 4. Nicol is a very gentle person and can be very romantic (take the example of LN8 and 11) Since he has a little sister he is used to take care of people and he doesn't want her to behave in a specific way because he likes her the way she is. He also doesn't make Catarina's complex worse and if he could talk more I think he could help her to be more confident. He only has one major problem...You guessed right : His devilish charm but the poor guy can't do anything about it. But with the help of Sophia and his parents who support him, I think that, if he tried he would have almost no problem to win Catarina's heart.

Raphael : 1, 2, 3, (4)

He has all the qualities needed but maybe because he doesn't have much time with Catarina he lacks a bit 4. He just wants to protect her and is okay with anyone she ends up with as long as she is happy. He can give her great advices and praise her with the right words to make her feel better and to him Catarina's opinion matters the most (like Nicol) . He isn't afraid of scolding her if needed out of worry for her and even if he doesn't see her often he is very sensitive to her feelings, sharp, and really trusts her. He just needs to be more serious about his pursue and I'm sure he would have no problem winning Catarina's heart. He is also one of the only one Catarina see as a man.

Sora : 1 ,2, 3, (4)

Sora, too, has almost all the qualities because it's obviously with him that Catarina is the most comfortable around. He is cool and reliable. Even if his ways of showing his worry can be rude or too honest he is still a very caring person and he is ready to protect Catarina as much as necessary, even indirectly. He is also quite smart because he can make subtle romantic advances to make progress. Like the way he chased the guys away at the ocean harbor by pretending it was "his job". Or the way he always takes her to her carriage at the gates of the Ministry even if it means take a detour to go back to the dorms. He doesn't particulary help her with her inferiority complex but he doesn't worsen it either.

Cezar : 1, 2, (3), 4

I don't know much about Cezar since we didn't see him much but he seems to have 1,2 and 4. Unfortunately he doesn't seem that serious about his pursue but, like Sora, he is easygoing and considerate so Catarina is very comfortable with him. But maybe because he doesn't have much time with her we can't really see him trying to win Catarina's heart. He is able to make romantic advances (but doesn't do it) and he is reliable and can protect Catarina . And he is a prince so he can perfectly compete against Geordo and the others. So I think his problem is mainly the motivation and he doesn't have much self- confidence himself and I think that's why he would be a good match for Catarina since he can help her with her complex and Catarina with his.

Aaqil : 1, 2, 4, (3)

I'm not sure about Aaqil but I think he has almost all the qualities. He is reliable and can protect Catarina, and she does see him as a man (at least not as child). He wants her to be herself and prefers when she is acting casually and is okay with her outstanding personnality. I don't know if he can help her with her complex but he can make gentle romantic advances and Catarina is comfortable with him. He has a very gentle personnality and really cares about her. I think he and Catarina just have to interact more with each other and they could end up together. He also needs to help her with her inferiority complex.

EDIT : Geordo and Keith also made an expensive mistake in their confessions. They didn't tell her WHY they love her.

[chidoroki]

Black Clover ch372

Feels like it's been forever but we're finally getting back to the Silva family fight between the children and Acier. More importantly, back to my man Nozel receiving the medical attention he so rightfully needs. I honestly should've expected Paplo to show up and provide healing again, but that really knocks out my personal wish of having some Black Bulls like Vanessa (& mainly her), Charmy or Grey flying in to come assist Noelle with the battle against mother dearest and interact with the siblings, but alas, Paplo is here being a reliable servant as always so can't be too mad at the poor guy. Kahono is nearby helping with some healing lullabies as well so Nozel is in good hands.

Heaven knows why I'm only realizing this now, but the fact they're both fighting with lance type weapons is sweet is a odd mother-daughter kinda way. I know Noelle's original valkyrie dress was styled after Acier's steel version but yeah.

These long months between chapters is really doing damage on my memory.. but all of Lucius' paladins have been using two different types of magic, yeah? Or at least given more than what their main attribute was, since sister Lily naturally has water but was later shown to use spatial as well. Regardless of what's right, seeing Acier use water to further overwhelm her family that mainly consists of water users is lovely, like a sweet punch to the gut.

Tee-hee~ more bird shaped spells coming from a Silver Eagle captain. How very on brand.

We then cut to Solid and Nebra still feeling completely shook and scared about the grand duel that's raging on in the sky. While Solid comments how Noelle continues to grew even stronger, he doubts they could still win against their mother. Nebra of course notices this strength too and thinks back on all the times she only faced opponents she knew she was capable of easily beating, so the idea of facing Acier undoubtedly terrifies her. Both siblings come to realize how very weak they've truly been, by taking their royal status at face value and by sitting back and badmouthing Noelle when she's the one who has been pushing herself through every harsh situation and improving herself to be accepted and live another day. We're gearing up for more redemption in the Silva family and if their moment is even half as good as Nozel's then I'm so ready.

And we're getting off to a great start as Solid jumps in to save Noelle from one of Acier's attacks. I think he summons up a water eagle to take the hit instead if I'm understanding what's happening here correctly.

Looks like Nerba puts up some sort of mist barrier/smoke screen to give Solid some cover to make his move too. Or perhaps it's a spell to hinder Acier? I really dunno, but whatever the case, it's working to some degree. Also, Fuegoleon's words still coming back clutch. I assume it's Noelle thinking of it now, since it was her Fuegoleon spoke them to? Or the quote is just there for us readers to remember. Either way, it really is such a powerful line from him.

I actually really love that Solid & Nebra don't wanna act like the past never happened and simply be forgiven for it, whether it be them referring to all the pain and sadness they've given Noelle over the years or how pitiful and arrogant they've both acted, but they want to accept and take blame for their actions instead and work towards improving themselves.

OUT OF THE WAY Y'ALL! Best boy is here and fully recovered, thank god! Even though it's no mystery that Nozel was nearby watching the fight whilst healing, his words just further confirm he was listening in to everything and I can't imagine how relieved and proud he must be feeling to hear his other two siblings finally turn over a new leaf by accepting and helping Noelle.

Not sure what kinda luck I've been blessed with but the fact we got two chapters this update so I didn't have to wait and see how the Silva family brawl would end fills me with great joy so I shall begin the next rambling now. Huzzah.

[alicent-vi-britannia]

One of the biggest challenges the narrative of my Code Geass fanfic posed to me was writing a love story with Lelouch. The series did not explore Lelouch's lover facet as it denied itself that aspect to pigeonhole him in the ambiguity, so I had a blank canvas before me. But the difficulty lay in the type of character that Lelouch is. Not exactly a character straight out of a romcom fluff (I used a fanfiction term! I mean those kind of overly sweet, lovely, heartwarming, pink stories that make you feel happy and make you believe in love, do you understand what? what do I mean? Those are the fluff stories); on the contrary, Lelouch looks like something out of a Shakespearean tragedy. He's not the ideal hero to tell a wholesome love story, is he? (One of my biggest fears is romanticizing wrong or immoral or toxic behavior; I don't want to be an author who contributes to the damage and bad reputation of the fics).

So, while I was writing the fanfic, on a whim I started reading "Jane Eyre" and here I was presented with a romance between a virtuous woman and a man tormented by his inner demons. It was exactly the type of romance that I intended to write with the two types of characters that I was working on.

On the one hand, Rochester is built on an archetype that was popularized in romanticism and is a variation of the typical romantic hero: the Byronic hero. Lelouch literally meets all the characteristics of this type of hero. In the words of historian and critic Thomas Macaulay, the Byronic hero is "a proud, temperamental, cynical man, with stamina in his brow and misery in his heart, someone who shows contempt for his class, implacable in revenge, but capable of affection ‘deep and strong’" (I won't go deeper because this topic gives enough for an independent post). I consider the Lelouch from my fanfic to be a more visceral version of the canonical Lelouch, so he tends to give in to his low passions and is much more Machiavellian and ruthless (we have several moments of vulnerability and reliability). At the same time, my readers have told me, he feels very human. To tell the truth, I think my Lelouch has suffered more than the canon Lelouch. It's hard to talk without giving spoilers or referring to a specific case

And, on the other hand, Jane is a character that stands out for her integrity and her principles. She is the moral guide who brings Rochester back to the light. In my fanfic, my Lelouch's love interest is Kallen and I think only she could play that role. Geass curse sucked C.C.'s morality and humanity away, turning her into an empty shell. Shirley is so comfortable in her happy bubble that every time she gets mixed up with the rebellion, she gets hurt. Kallen can gravitate between the normal world within the walls of Ashford Academy and the cruel world outside where a war is going on, and still remain unscathed. Even if she is a soldier who has had to take countless lives in battle, Kallen is not a killing machine. She does not lose the north. She holds firmly to her principles and her goals. It's the same in my fanfic, even though it takes place in an alternate universe. Kallen suffers one misfortune after another and manages to overcome them. She is endowed with a resilience and a morality that Lelouch needs to have (in fact, this is one of the reasons why I think Lelouch and Kallen's romance does work where the others fail).

Now that I exposed it like this, surely a lot of love stories built from this scheme will come to mind and that's because this type of romance is super common and is as old as humanity itself. In fact, I call this type of romance "Beauty and the Beast" because she is always pure of heart and he is a beast who needs to bring out that inner prince he has to be with her, yes! xd

I love this kind of romance. I’m not going to lie. However, it is difficult to write. Either it goes well or it goes wrong and for most it turns out fatally (understand that they deliver a toxic couple relationship). In my opinion, "Jane Eyre" did quite well. And, for me, it stands out among other cases because there is a deep awareness of the problem and they are actively working on it. The Rochester arc is an arc of redemption through love.

Redemption and love are two themes strongly present in my story and in my Lelouch's arc.

The canon Lelouch was able to save himself from doom thanks to the love and friendship he was given by the student council and I accepted that: in part because of the anime's setting, Lelouch is a teenager and for that stage of life friendship plays an important rol; In part, I accepted it because it's an anime and anime, in general terms, gives a special place to friendship. Same as in western cartoons aimed at children; but in books, live-action series, movies, even anime and animated series aimed at adult audiences, friendship is no longer the main focus (I don't know if you've noticed).

The Lelouch in my story is an adult Lelouch and, for this stage of life, friends are and are not. Most of the time the adults are involved in their own business and every once in a while they can see each other and talk only to lose themselves again. Sometimes you only have a friend with whom you walk up and down (ONLY ONE). On the other hand, at this stage of life, it is more likely to look for someone to share life with (that is my vision; you may disagree or agree with me).

So, in the absence of a sincere friendship, I thought it more convincing to give my adult Lelouch a love. It will be up to him if he wants to redeem himself or sink into darkness (you know).

[reblogthiscrapkay]

The Myth of Persephone in "Punderworld."

Apparently it's been two years since I posted one of these. Technically I actually did read something a few months ago, a very short story called "Persephone Remembers The Pomegranates," but I found it so short and unmemorable that I forgot to even write about it. It felt like a fanfic someone was charging for instead of an actual story. So let's talk about "Punderworld" instead.

I had heard of this one years ago and thought it looked cute, but I never really went beyond that. The other day though when I went to the library to work and completely forgot my computer, I decided to settle down in the graphic novel section to read a book I brought. But first I HAD to look through the shelves just in case there was something I needed to read there. I ended up checking out some books, and this was one of them. This is definitely not a conventional retelling of the myth. In fact, after the first volume, the myth hasn't even been fully told. I expect there to be at least one or two more volumes. The story starts with Hades talking to Zeus at a party for Artemis, which he is reluctantly at because he needed to ask Zeus a business question. At the same time, Persephone and her mom are fighting about how she won't let her go to the party, which spirals into how she won't let her live her own life. We find from these talks that Hades and Persephone met once when he went to get a cornucopia from Demeter and have only briefly seen each other since but they are both infatuated. Zeus decides to "help" by planting a trick by the lake when Seph lives. Hades rushes there to see a chariot that Persephone gets swept away by when she goes to inspect it. Hijinks ensue as the two have to land the thing in the River Styx and ultimately get separated. When he finds her, he tells her who he really is (Demeter had insisted he was a minor deity) and offers her a tour. She wants to go but says she needs to get home and then we see Demeter finding her bed empty.

It's kind of a lot of book for so little plot, but the good thing is that we get a really strong feeling for the characterization of everyone. Hades is pretty socially awkward in an endearing way and Persephone is strong willed and more straightforward (see also: flirty). Both of them are really hard working and reliable. I like the characterization a lot. I also LOVE the artwork. I've seen a lot of good comic versions from an art perspective (like the Allison Shaw one or the George O'Connor one) but this one may be my favorite. There is a ton of thought put into the designs and at the end of this volume the author talks about why she made the choices she did. As a Greek myth nerd I already saw what she was doing, but it was great to see. I love the detail about how all the major deities have crowns that are unique to their domain and some change with their moods. There's also a lot of little details in the writing that show the author really did her research about ancient Greek customs and such and I really appreciate that. Not judging too much since the story is probably not even halfway done, I will say I don't know how I feel about some of the changes. I like the idea of Hades not kidnapping her but the way in which they got to the underworld felt weirdly convoluted. I like that it put them in a position to have to work together (again, the characterization is very good) but it felt a little overwrought. I also think it worked to have them already knowing each other but I wish it had shied away from the "already in love and spoke once" trope just a bit. While you're changing stuff, why not just have them be interested and fall in love over the course of the book? Either way, I will definitely keep reading these if they keep getting published. But it could also use more puns.

[hell-ama-official]

why are satan and lucifer different people

Great question! In fact, I've answered similar ones before, but this one just has something to it. Maybe it's lack of punctuation and capitalization, maybe it's just that I don't get as much traction on here as I do on my blog. Which is what I hoped for, as this is only a backup in case the main thing suddenly ceases to exist after an unexplained financial cut, but what I didn't expect is that Tumblr is much more convenient (despite the fact that I'm not being paid for running this one).

To answer this question, we first need to define "people".

Marriam-Webster brings us two relevant definitions among many:

1. human beings making up a group or assembly or linked by a common interest 4. the mass of a community as distinguished from a special class

Now, the first one fails to apply to Fallen, as it specifies human beings as the subject of "people".

The other definition also does not apply, as Lucifer and Satan both belong to the special class in demonic culture - namely, the original Fallen.

So they aren't people. They're different "demons", though:

a: an evil spirit b: a source or agent of evil, harm, distress, or ruin

Jokes aside, this is a very interesting question theologically. Why are they often conflated when they are so different? Let us turn to the Bible.

The way judging of humans works is similar to a human court. Satan is "the opposing one", and was the one to create obstacles in the way of humans so that they may decide between righteous and sinful behavior. She is the tempter and the prosecutor, provoking people with dark souls to either show their true colors so that they don't get into Heaven undeservedly, or prove their loyalty to God in spite of their nature.

The word devil translated to "the accuser", and was historically the role of the archangel who judged humans before Christ came and restored human's right to go to Heaven.

The name Lucifer is attributable to the word "lightbringer", relating to Venus. That is easily proven by the fact that all archangels bear names ending in -el, meaning "of God", just as the original Hebrew word Haylel which was mistranslated into Lucifer in the Latin version. Though originally meant as a metaphor for the king of Babylon unrelated to the Devil, Lucifer liked the name a lot due to the words "Star of the Morning" having been used by Jesus to describe himself (Revelation 22:16), although to citizens of Hell I would recommend referring to Tindall's translation of "True Last Will of a God to his Errant sons" (known as well as the Second Epistle of Judas, or "that book of the Bible Judas hoarded until 1500s when he gave it to Lucifer- who hoarded it in his private library until 1670s, when he decided its time to finally translate it) as an earlier and more reliable source (more on the credibility of Revelation later). Thus Lucifer, in a way, establishes himself as an antithesis to Jesus: as Jesus is the guiding light of a star, Lucifer is the anger of the burning, destructive object that gives off that light.

Since Paradise Lost many a people have believed that the Devil "snuck" into the Garden of Eden to tempt Eve, implying Lucifer must have already fallen by that point. On the contrary, Genesis clearly states that a regular snake was "smarter than other animals", and the narrative of Satan, the Devil or Lucifer sneaking into Eden is based in the conflation of snakes as symbolic for the Devil. Whether the snake was controlled, taught or otherwise influenced by Satan we may as well never know without asking her, but it's not likely, as God punished the snake for tempting Eve and not Satan.

It only adds to the confusion that Lucifer served in Hell before his Fall; in fact, as the judge of souls, it was his job to oversee Hell and determine if the punishment is just. After Christ-coming, to that was added another responsibility: determining if the punishment was served and the soul may go to Heaven. Satan's main occupation at that point was roaming the Earth and testing the strength of character of notable individuals, such as Christ himself, as well as his disciples Ananias and Judas. Notice that there aren't many documented biblical temptations after Christ-coming, as Satan was assigned to help with judgement of souls in Hell. That is when Lucifer and Satan became close as siblings as they labored in Hell, despite many of their differences and disagreements. They are often considered to share a "mother", but in this case Satan was mentored by the same angel who is believed to be Lucifer's mother. I'm not explaining angel hierarchies and procreation here, mostly because I don't get it myself; the "mother"-"sibling"-"cousins" concept comes from the words of Lucifer over the centuries rather than factual evidence. I misattributed it one of my blog posts as fact, for which I apologize. The post was taken down after it was pointed out to me.

As such, the time of the first Fall can be narrowed down to the time period between the judging of Job, whose faith was tested with Satan still at God's side, and the date of Revelation being written (90-95 contemporary age), as it mentions the Fall; unless the vision of the fall is part of revelations to the future granted upon John, who is not the Apostle John. Revelation 12:9 states "the ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who deceives the whole world", or, in KJ version, "called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world". It seems to be merely a mistranslation of "the ancient serpent <who is> called the Devil and Satan <who is> the deciever and all of his <Lucifer's> angels", although it is also entirely possible that not-Apostle-John was conflating the word Devil with Satan instead of Lucifer, as Satan is referred to as "diabolos" (a word of the same root meaning "slanderer", mirroring the role of an accuser who righteously brings people's nature into question into someone who does so unjustly) multiple times throughout the New Testament, which means John of Revelation was working off of a backlog of every other canonical book of the Bible, possibly based on prophetic visions out of his scale of understanding.

So there. Satan and Lucifer are simply different beings whom religious books happened to confuse with each other in some aspects based on mistranslation, misunderstanding of source text and conflation of concepts. I hope this explanation was very boring and tedious.

[loafaethernaut]

Cod Zombies Hot Takes Nobody Asked For

I might not ever post this but I’m bored and I might as well write these down before the Cod zombies thoughts leave my brain again for the next month:

-I could do a whole post complaining about this but while Vanguard zombies wasn’t good the hate that it got was far more annoying than the game itself.

-There is no such thing as a bad zombies map/game/characters. It all comes down to personal preference. I personally like Bo4 more than Bo2 but I get why most people prefer Bo2.

-Even now that my recency bias has worn off, I still think that CW is the best zombies mode for just gameplay and accessibility alone. The only real downsides are the lack of content (though now comparing it to the other games I don’t think it’s all that bad) and the fact that all the good cosmetics are locked behind a paywall.

-People really aren’t gonna like this one- but I think Ultimis is kind of the worst crew in the franchise. Looking back they’re not really funny, their story is very inaccessible (I could make a whole post about how much I loathe the early storytelling of CodZ and how you had to rely on biased retellings of easter egg hunters and youtubers), and almost everything good or interesting about each character is portrayed far better in their Primis counterpart.

-Zombies maps/modes are overall better when they’re made for casual players (coming from someone who is very much NOT a casual player).

-There is no reliable way to measure how “good” or “skilled” someone is at zombies, besides maybe CW’s Onslaught mode (but skill shouldn’t, matter, what should matter is if you’re enjoying the game).

-Samantha is one of the least problematic protagonists in zombies compared to the others we’ve had in the past (but there’s nothing wrong with calling her out for her flaws either).

-Most remakes or remasters of previous zombies maps are objectively better than their previous version and those who prefer the older versions honestly confuse me a little bit.

-Any and all conversations about a canon Requiem Strike Team should at least include Lawrence Sims and Helen Park.

-I’ve said this before but Dr. Elizabeth Grey is the most unique main crew member in the entire franchise simply based on her principles and morals alone.

-Infinite Warfare zombies had the best ���on disk” map (but in every game after Bo4 this concept doesn’t matter).

-Most of the popular zombies youtubers these days actively do more harm than good to the “community” and most of these youtubers are aware of this and don’t care.

-The “operator” character selection system is actually really cool and more fun than having your character randomly chosen for you each match. I agree that there should be a set of four “canon” operators for the story that have more voicelines but you should still have the option to play as whoever you want.

-Anyone who denies the canon queerness of Samantha and Richtofen (and by extension Grey, Park, Krafft, anyone else I missed, etc.) is not worth the time of day in this fandom. No exceptions.

[faelid]

Got Love

Crossposting more fluff from AO3 while I work on the Kihyun version.

Inspired by No Limit track "I Got Love". It used to be that a Friday night could reliably be considered date night between two young, outgoing individuals. But for the driven and ambitious, expectations are high... and Fridays? Fridays are just another work night.

Jooheon is nothing if not ambitious. That doesn't mean he's not interested in dating. He just wishes he could find someone willing to stick around.

---

Jooheon's efforts to be more involved with the production of the band’s music were paying off. Over the years, he'd been facing less opposition and more responsibilities when presenting new songs. Starship was starting to recognize him, not just as a performer, but as an artist. He was on his way to where he wanted to be, with zero regrets about chasing his dream.

It just… made chasing his love life difficult.

Don’t take it the wrong way; if he had to pick between having a steady girlfriend and his dream, there wasn’t even a question. But it never softened the blow, never made him any less afraid that she’d grow bored; always hoping this one would be the one to just…get it. One who understood that he was interested in dating and spending time together, but that his time was sparse. It wasn’t like he didn’t make up for it-- his actual dates were planned and executed with the same level of passion that he put in to his music.

But even though he was upfront about his priorities, even though his dates always assured him they could handle a little distance, they always ended up disappointed and in tears when they realized that, despite his outgoing persona, he really did put his team, his work, and his fans, first.

If he was (reluctantly) honest with himself, his dating rotation was emotionally exhausting. And repetitive. Clockwork - monotonous, draining, maybe-a-little-discouraging, clockwork. He was almost certain his brothers had made a game of it, but if they had, he didn’t want to know.

In fact, he was probably going to make one of them a fair bit of money this week.

With planning the next album, their comeback already looming on the horizon, he’d be back to putting his all into his art... which pretty much meant no more Friday date nights. And while his latest lady had survived longer than most, he’d also had a lighter schedule recently. She probably hadn’t felt deprived as quickly as the others had, but he expected that to change. After all, they were six weeks into their burgeoning relationship, and his longest had been ten; he didn’t exactly have high hopes.

So he took her out for the ritual ‘pre-breakup’ dinner.

She was either going to turn him down on the spot, or their relationship would rapidly decline when she realized he hadn’t been exaggerating, and that would be the end of it. Regardless, this was going to be his last chance at a happy memory together.

He broke the news over dessert, while she was savoring the warm vanilla and crispy glaze of her crème brulee.

“I’m going to be spending a lot of time in the studio for an upcoming project.” He redirected his attention to his dessert, considering hiding from her gaze, before he looked back up. It hurt to hurt people, even when he was being honest, but he wasn’t going to be a coward, either.

He was an adult. He knew what he wanted out of his life, and he wasn’t going to be sorry for going after it. “I don’t know how much time we’ll be able to spend together for the next few weeks.”

She set her spoon down on the plate and leaned back in her chair, eyeing him pensively. “Do we give ourselves a chance to try it, or would you rather call it quits here?” She asked calmly, and while outwardly he maintained his cool, on the inside he was in turmoil. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to break up; it’s just that she was likely to, and very soon. Her directness was almost refreshing, but she’d read the situation too clearly and had put him on the spot.

“Personally,” she continued, sparing him after a few moments, “I like you.” She gave him a lopsided smile, and he tried to hold back the slow spread of a hopeful grin. “I have my fair share of work, but my hours are generally flexible. So if you have the odd spontaneous free time, we can give it a shot. And otherwise…” she chewed on her lip, deliberating on a boundary she wasn’t sure she should cross so soon, but to hell with it. “If you don’t mind, maybe I can visit the studio from time to time and we can grab dinner or something. You do still eat, don’t you?”

He’d been around the block enough to know that his erstwhile lady friends were very rarely interested in “just visiting” at the studio, but if he was going to start giving an end-of-semester exam, he might as well give it to everyone.

“I won’t be able to entertain you. Is that okay?” He says, and she pins him with her gaze, one eyebrow raised in something akin to a silent scoff.

“Jooheon. I’m a grown woman. I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself for an evening.” And though the corner of his mouth twitches as the sexual implication crosses his mind, she doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash, silently scolding him.

“Besides. I also have a project I’m working on, and it won’t hurt me to put in a little extra time. I can get some work done while I’m there.”

Two weeks of absentee dating later, she showed up at the door to his studio, backpack in one hand and takeout in the other. She treated him to a pleasant but quiet floor picnic, both too preoccupied with other thoughts to spare much time for being cute, before she planted herself on his couch, popped in her earbuds, and proceeded to ignore him for the next two hours.

He couldn’t help but feel that it was weird.

Very, very weird.

And maybe…sort of romantic?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to delve too deep into the warmth that was blooming in his chest as they left the studio together, eyes sparkling as they took in the cool breeze, the company, and the beautiful chaos of Seoul at this time of night.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

He was trying (and failing) to be nonchalant as he led them on a detour, but since she didn’t know the dorm was only three quarters of a mile away, he was able to slide under the radar. Her surprise when they stopped by his favorite hotteok stand was worth it, and while she may have teased him a little bit when she finally realized how far out of the way they’d gone, he didn’t have any regrets.

Shoving that warmth back where it belongs (don’t get excited, you!) as they exchange farewells at the dorm entrance, he can’t help but feel a rush of gratitude when she follows up by asking if they can do it again sometime, and he agrees immediately. He’ll roil in his insecurities in the relative private of his room later.

“Thank for dinner.” He hesitates, in uncharted territory for the first time in a long time. “Do you want to come in for a bit? I know it’s late.” And to his surprise, she turns him down.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved, but damned if he was going to figure out why.

Instead, he deflects the overly-invested questions from his hyungs, and eventually they take pity on him because he's obviously dazed. He tries to get ready for bed, to push off introspection for another day, choosing to focus on the arrangement he’d been working on before leaving the studio.

It’s only the beginning, after all. Who knows how she’ll feel after a few more weeks?

But she does it again, and again, fitting in the occasional proper date or outing between Friday nights, never reaching for more than that.

She doesn’t always show up with work; sometimes she brings a book or watches a movie and just exists quietly with him. Afterwards she walks him back to the dorm, trading jokes and stories and little things about their week. She stays the night once or twice, or comes into to visit his colleagues who are his de facto family, but they always part as he expresses his giddiness in extended goodbyes, out of sight of the door camera…but anyone who chooses to listen can still hear them giggling.

He can’t say if he or his bandmates are more shocked that she’s set a new record, but he finally stops trying to convince himself that one night she’s going to throw down her computer and start hovering, bombarding him with questions, trying to worm her way into his lap. He’s not immune to seduction, but he’s used to being on the defensive.

His suspicion fades, and he enjoys her visits even more.

On the nights when the studio is quiet and he’s alone, on the nights when he finds himself stuck or frustrated, gaze roaming the room in search of an out-of-reach solution, he sees her on the couch and something in him relaxes. He’s not quite sure what to make of it, so he lets it be.

---

She wonders, staring down a bottle of wine as she contemplates the upcoming evening, if she’s getting a little too comfortable. But he hasn’t said anything, and she’s reasonably certain that if he didn’t approve, she’d have heard about it. He’s not shy with his thoughts; it’s no surprise she considers it one of his most endearing qualities. In fact, all of her previous attempts at pushing their boundaries have yielded excellent results, because usually all she has to do is ask and he’ll respond genuinely, no hard feelings.

There’s a bottle of whiskey in the corner of the studio, though she's never seen him drink any, but she’s finished her project and she wants to reward herself, wants to share the celebration with him.

But it's not just a job to Jooheon, and she knows how it is to be territorial over one's passions.

Eventually, she gives up trying to anticipate which line she might cross and just buys the bottle, slipping two glasses from her cabinet and an oversized sweater into her bag.

If he turns her down, at least she’ll still be up a bottle of wine.

---

He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, but she quietly pours him a glass and sets it to the side of his desk before stretching out on the couch. She spends the rest of the evening surreptitiously watching him work between chapters, wine in one hand and book in the other. She likes watching him work, likes the contrast between his normal exuberance and the serious dedication. She respects him more for it, but she can’t say it doesn’t make her heart flutter.

He tries not to be too suspicious. He pointedly ignores the wine, and her, for most of the night, but when she doesn’t make any move towards him and he’s stuck pondering the particular phrasing of the chorus, he absentmindedly reaches for the glass.

He’s surprised to find that he likes it.

When he’s finished working for the night, she’s on her second glass of wine and her hair has escaped its tie. She looks like she belongs there, book in hand, lounging on his couch, and he thinks maybe he’s in love. He makes a decision the instant the thought crosses his mind, and when she looks up to see that he’s starting to pack and moves to get ready to go, he stops her.

“I want to stay here for a little while longer. With you.” He flashes his dimples at her when he picks up the bottle, and makes a show of examining the label. “Besides! It would be a waste to carry this all the way home. We should finish it.”

Her face lights up and she makes space for him on the other end of the couch while he pours himself another glass, and he relishes the casual contact of their legs once he’s situated.

It's so easy, so natural. He's not sure how he didn't notice it sooner.

“You know, you’d better listen to this album when it’s released. You’ve waited so long for it.” He teases, and she laughs. How can she not, when she’s seen how hard he’s working on it? She promises to listen to his album on repeat for a week if he promises that he can beat her game before they go on tour, and he’s somehow surprised because he knew she was a developer, but she’d never been explicit about what she was working on and he’d never really put it together that she was a developer for that company.

Wait until his bandmates found out!

As the wine disappears, so too does their teasing. He tells her about his dating experience, about his apprehension as they started down this road together, and how refreshing it is that she was different, how much he’s been enjoying having the chance to actually date her.

She leans in to offer him physical comfort, a hand against his knee, letting him feel the warmth of another body, and it burns him like a brand.

She listens quietly until it's time to set her glass down, and then she tells him about her almost-fiancé, about being forced to choose between her career and their marriage. Suddenly he understands why she’s so accommodating, and a part of his heart is angry and broken and grateful all at the same time, because it brought them together.

Their eyes make contact, kindred soul to kindred soul, and their lips follow. It’s soft and slow, exploring each other as if they haven’t kissed already, as if they have all the time in the world, just the two of them alone in the studio. She doesn’t notice that they’ve shifted position until they surface for air, and he’s propped up above her, looking at her with his heart in his eyes.

Her fingers trace a path down his cheek, across his dimples and his lips, like she needs to feel it to believe it’s real, and when at last she’s convinced she looks back up at him and whispers a soft “I love you.” His eyes close as he rests his forehead against hers, and at last he lets that warm feeling in his chest go free.

“I love you, too.”

---

At practice the next day, when he’s bragging about her to the others, it slips out before he realizes what he’s saying, it just comes so instinctively. “My wifey is amazing.” And he endures their teasing and slaps on the back, savoring the taste of the word, testing it again and again in his head, because though he never got far enough to call his previous women ‘girlfriend’, he thinks it might have been worth the wait, after all.

[yrpreciousmoon]

Getting Lucky (Rohan x Akira)

Title: Getting Lucky Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pairing: Akira Otoishi x Rohan Kishibe Rating: Teen (18+ Mature version HERE) Summary: Akira lands a pretty great gig with a boss who exceeds his expectations. The trope of the rich, horny housewife and the cute pool boy. But make it Jojo. AN: This story has been leering at me from the shadows of my wip folder for AGES. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I think I've gotten it to an acceptable place. If you enjoy it, please let me know in the comments, it means the world to me! Thanks to my Akirohan GC for helping me get this over the finish line.

-

-

Akira Otoishi could not believe how lucky he was at that moment – “Lucky” being a word he rarely used to describe himself. Especially in the past few years.

He’d gotten caught up in some pretty crazy schemes a while back, and had sure as hell paid the price for it. Three years in jail during the prime of his life. Three years when his peers were out experiencing university, starting their careers, making all the beautiful mistakes that go along with finding your way into the freedom of adulthood.

But Otoishi hadn’t been free. He had scarcely even been able to express himself through music, which seemed a far greater punishment than anything else. Though, after the initial shock of life on the inside had worn off, he had eventually given in, let go, and tried to make the best of things... because what other choice did he have? For Akira, "making the best of things" meant working every day on both his physical and mental strength, and obsessively reading every manga available in the prison’s library, every issue of Shonen Jump he could convince a friend or family member to bring to him.

When he’d finally gotten out, he found himself in an entirely new set of shackles. Finding a job with no experience or education was nigh impossible… and the fact that he had a criminal record didn’t help much, either.

And so he’d tapped every possible resource available to him, finding himself all over the region running errands, filling gaps in shifts, moving cargo, getting shit out of attics for old ladies. He found that the varied nature of being a task-rabbit kept things interesting, at least, but god he could use a somewhat-regular sleep schedule, a little more assurance that he could afford food each week.

Which is why, when he first spotted that fateful help-wanted ad, he felt that his luck might be about to change.

  “Seeking a reliable, discreet individual for part-time work assisting small business owner in various tasks.”

  There wasn't much by way of prerequisites. The hours were good, the pay was good, and the nature of the work aligned nicely with Akira’s only work experience — which is to say, it was “a little bit of everything.”

Over the phone, the woman who placed the ad seemed at least somewhat interested in him, and to his relief it wasn’t long before she called back to meet in person for an informal interview of sorts.

They met over coffee, and for the duration of the interview the bubbly young woman remained oddly vague about the specifics of the job itself. But Akira hardly minded, opting to kick back easily in his chair and build rapport with the pretty little thing.

Eventually, after getting side-tracked by a conversation about music, the woman — who had introduced herself as Kyoka Izumi — seemed to remember why they were here in the first place and grew a shade more serious.

“Otoishi-san,” she said slowly, “I have to warn you that the person looking for help is a bit... eccentric.”

Akira had blinked at her for a moment, processing this. “It's not… you?”

“Oh, no,” she laughed, waving off the idea. “You see, I work with him too, but in a different way.” She cleared her throat. “He is a very successful businessman, and even a bit of a celebrity in his field. That’s why we need someone trustworthy in this position, you understand. You’d be working for him directly, and you’d need to keep things professional.”

Akira leaned in a bit, his curiosity piqued. “So what exactly does he do?”

Izumi shook her head. “Oh, he doesn’t want me to— We can talk about that when you meet him. He’ll have to interview you as well. I’m just supposed to screen the applicants, bring him whoever I think he’ll like best… But of course, it’s impossible to tell with him, sometimes…” She laughed to herself and seemed to get distracted by her own thoughts again, so Akira let his mind wander as well.

Who could this mysterious benefactor be? There were only so many quote-unquote celebrities living in Morioh, as far as he knew, but… it couldn't be...?

“Otoishi-san, do you enjoy manga?”

Akira nearly snorted his coffee through his nose. There was no fucking way…

“Yeah, um, I do, as a matter of fact. I’ve read quite a lot,” he said, trying to speak calmly and not jump to any conclusions.

Izumi gave a mysterious little hum of approval, and then went quiet again for a few moments more. Finally she said, “Oh, goodness, I’ve really gone over our time, I’m sorry! I’ll be in touch in a few days with some proposed times to meet for that second interview with the boss! Please try to keep your schedule open, okay? He'll be cranky if you can't make any of his times work.”

“Sure... That sounds fine. I can’t wait.”

His demeanor was calm, but inside, Akira was practically buzzing with excitement. Not only had this interview gone swimmingly, but... even if his would-be employer wasn’t who he suspected, this sounded like a pretty cool opportunity at the very least. For the first time in a long time, he was feeling pretty damn lucky.

  -

    Days later, when Akira saw Izumi excitedly flagging him down for another cafe meeting, waving him over to their table, he knew for sure that his luck was changing.

Rohan Kishibe looked very much like his black-and-white “About the Artist” photo reproductions, although as he sat at the small bistro table his mouth was turned downward and there was a cold look in his eyes, like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet.

Akira tried to steady his breathing. Okay, he told himself, he could totally do this. He could be cool. He just had to remember that Rohan Kishibe was a guy like anyone else. A guy who just happened to be the creator of his favorite manga series.

“Otoishi, this is Rohan Kishibe. He’ll be your boss if all goes well here today!” Izumi flashed a bright smile, but the mangaka himself stayed quiet and still, his unimpressed gaze climbing up and down over the now deeply self-conscious Akira.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kishibe-sensei,” he said, hoping that the shaking in his voice wasn’t evident. He bowed deeply, and when the artist didn’t respond his monkey-brain quickly added: “I’m actually a huge fan of your work.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Izumi, clapping her hands together and looking between the two of them. “Well, what luck!”

“...Thank you,” Rohan replied simply, his voice calm and measured. Still, he continued to size Akira up, and the younger man could think of nothing to do but shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Have a seat,” Rohan eventually said, “Izumi, would you go inside and order our drinks? I’m tired of waiting.”

“Of course! You two have fun!” She nodded and bounded off, and Akira slowly sat in the chair opposite from Rohan, hyper-aware of every movement.

“So, um…” he started.

Then, quite suddenly, it was as if everything around him had shifted ever so slightly. There was no noise, no physical feeling, just a strange sensation as if he'd dozed off for a few seconds. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head. Christ… had he just blacked out from nerves? Had Rohan noticed?

Then Izumi appeared back at the table, despite having left only a moment ago.

...Yeah, something weird had definitely happened, but neither of the other two seemed to notice. Izumi simply set out their drinks before taking a seat of her own. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, Otoishi-san!”

“...This is fine,” Akira replied quietly as he took the cup, eyes darting up to Rohan’s face to search for any indication of what the hell had just happened.

“So! Did you start without me?” The woman asked.

Rohan was quick to speak this time. “I find it funny, Izumi, how you managed to find someone who breaks all of the very basic perimeters that I gave you for a candidate.” He took a long, deliberate sip of his drink as the other two exchanged a nervous glance. “Otoishi… I researched your past a little bit.”

Akira tensed. Oh, no. He’d heard that sentiment a thousand times already during his job hunt. It never ended well.

“You’ve already spent time incarcerated, despite your age. Theft, wasn’t it? And attempting to infiltrate a private company? Not great resume material.”

“Um.” Akira inhaled. He could get through this. Even if Rohan’s gaze was piercing into his soul. “That’s… true, yes. But I was just a stupid kid then. I like to think I’ve repaid my debt, uh, so to speak. That’s not who I am anymore. I’m really just looking for honest work.”

“That does appear to be true as well,” Rohan replied slowly. He was no longer looking at Akira, thank god… now he was staring into space, one slender hand placed thoughtfully on his chin. “And you have aspirations of being a musician, correct?”

Akira smiled a little. “Oh, huh. Izumi must have told you? Yeah, I know it’s a bit of a pipe dream, but…”

“You’re dedicated to it, which I can certainly appreciate. So many people talk about dreams but never bother to put in the work.” He turned back to Akira. “You’re an interesting person, I’ll give you that.” Another scrutinizing up-and-down. “I assume you’d be comfortable moving heavy boxes full of books and such, given your experience working at the docks.”

Huh. Wait, had he mentioned that? “Um. Yes, sir, Kishibe-sensei.”

“Hm. That's good... And I’ll occasionally need things delivered as well. to Izumi’s office, for example.”

“No problem.”

“The hours in my line of work can be a bit unusual.”

“Heh, same here...”

“And you are absolutely not at liberty to discuss anything you see or hear in my home unless I’ve given you explicit permission to do so. That means nothing about me or my work.”

“You have my word.” Akira solemnly put up a hand. “But uh, it kind of sounds like you’re giving me the job…?” His voice pitched upwards a bit, hopeful. Rohan studied him silently for a moment.

“Yes,” he finally said, closing his eyes, “We’ll give you a shot. I’ll have Izumi send you a contract to sign.” He gestured vaguely in her direction, and the woman let out a pleased squeak. “For now, you can go, Otoishi. I have other business to discuss with Izumi.” He took another sip of his tea.

“O-oh, okay… well… Great! Thank you!” Akira rose awkwardly from his chair and offered them each a bow, hesitating for a moment. He gripped at the back of the chair and tried desperately to think of something smart to say.

Izumi smiled at him as she waited — Rohan arched a brow, looking as unimpressed as ever.

“...Right! I guess I’ll talk to you both soon! Thank you… um… thanks!” He turned on his heel and began to make a quick retreat, then realized he ought to relax and not look so eager to bolt. He abruptly slowed his pace, but thought that now he looked too blasé and unmotivated, so he sped up once again. The result was a weird little shuffle, and as he reached the edge of the sidewalk he peeked over his shoulder to see if they had noticed.

Akira’s pride died a little when he saw that yes, Rohan was definitely still watching him. Their eyes met and Rohan’s expression seemed to soften ever-so-slightly… but maybe it was just wishful thinking. The artist then turned his attention back to Izumi, and Akira continued on his way home, minding his breath.

In that moment, despite his wounded ego, he felt so, so lucky. Though looking back on it, he could never have predicted what was to come.

    -

    It all started with the lingering gazes.

Akira's first few weeks of running errands for the young mangaka went smoothly enough. He was smart enough to stay clear of the warpath, and to remain subservient enough to appease his boss' ego. And anyway, most requests were easy: things like tidying the house, taking inventory of books and prints, and tending to any minor aesthetic issues around the house that stuck in Rohan's craw. But the thing that stood out to Akira was that even as their time together grew, Rohan would often stay to watch him longer than was polite or necessary. Akira supposed that it was the mangaka’s right… after all, he’d certainly gone out on a limb, allowing a former criminal into his home. It made sense that Akira would have to build his trust over time. And truly, he didn't even mind when his employer would hover in the doorway, looking on as he organized books and files, cleaned up the studio, or whatever that day's task was... he just found it odd.

Akira recognized that Rohan was not the type to open up or extend an offer of friendship. But all the same, his boss never seemed outright annoyed with him, so he figured that Rohan must like him well enough. Plus, before long the artist began making a wider array of requests of the young musician, indicating that the trust between them was indeed growing. Akira was soon helping out with even more domestic tasks like moving Rohan’s desk to a spot with better lighting, cleaning the windows to improve the quality of the aforementioned lighting, and running mundane errands throughout the day.

And yet, Akira still couldn’t help but feel that Rohan’s eyes were always on him (unless, of course, they were on his work.)

This observation sat uncomfortably in the pit of Akira's stomach until one afternoon, while up on a ladder cleaning the tops of Kishibe’s tallest bookshelves, he heard the tiny clink of a teacup that indicated his boss was standing behind him again. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him.

“Sensei,” he said, craning to look down over his shoulder, “You must know by now that you can trust me, right?”

A pause. “Excuse me?”

“You always keep such a close eye on me. I don't want you to feel like you have to.” He grimaced, scratching at his neck. “Is there something I can do differently to earn your trust?”

Rohan chuckled and sighed, looking down into his teacup. “Oh, sweet thing...” he sighed, “If I didn’t trust you, you wouldn't have lasted this long.” He took a long sip of his drink, meeting Akira’s eyes over the rim. “Does it bother you when I'm hanging around?”

“N-no, of course not! I enjoy your company.”

“I’m glad.” The teacup clinked softly on its dish. “Because I was thinking I might have you doing some more work around the house, if you’re up for it. The weather’s getting warmer…” Rohan leaned his weight against the bookshelf. “And I don’t have the time for landscaping…”

Akira stepped down from the ladder and stood facing Rohan, the mangaka looking up at him with those pretty green eyes. “Yeah, of course! I’d be happy to help with that.” He nodded. “It would be nice to work outside for a bit…”

“Great.” Rohan’s eyes dragged over his body. “How about Wednesday afternoon, then? It's supposed to be a clear day.”

“That works for me,” Akira replied with a grin.

“Perfect. For now… can you help me move a few boxes of old volumes downstairs? They’re a bit heavy…”

“No problem. Leave it to me, Kishibe-sensei.” Akira flexed an arm and patted his bicep for effect. Rohan smiled back at him.

    -

    Besides the watchful eyes, the second thing that struck Akira as a bit unusual was the way Rohan's clothing changed with the seasons.

On the day that he showed up to help with yardwork, Rohan had greeted him at the door with a loosened tie and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. Akira didn’t think anything of it at the time; it was a hot day, and Kishibe-san was working from home, after all. Really the only reason it stuck in his mind at all was because the thought flickered shamefully through his mind that his boss looked a bit cute like that.

Rohan had guided him 'round to the back of the house and shown him the small gardening shed which housed the tools needed to clean up the yard. “I'll be working upstairs,” he said, placing a hand on Akira's shoulder, “So just come find me if you need anything at all.”

Akira grinned. “I should be fine, but thank you.”

Rohan hummed affirmatively and patted Akira's shoulder before retreating into the house, and the young musician was quick to get to work. He started with the simplest task – mowing the lawn – hoping to get it out of the way before the heat of the day grew unbearable. As it so happened, it was forecast to be the hottest day of the week. Despite his best efforts however, it wasn't long before Akira was pulling his hair up into a high bun at the top of his head and desperately rolling up the cuffs of his shorts in an attempt to get more air against his skin.

As the afternoon inched onward and the sun climbed higher, Akira dutifully carried on with his work trimming hedges, pulling weeds, and occasionally glancing up at Rohan's studio window, waving when his boss was there looking back at him.

At one point he stopped for a quick break on the front steps to re-hydrate when Izumi-san came up the way. She greeted him cheerfully and he apologized for his appearance – by now, shirtless and covered in a sheen of sweat. But she simply waved him off.

“Kishibe-sensei must be so relieved that he doesn't have to do all that hard work! You really do save him a great deal of trouble!”

“I hope so,” Akira replied, leaning back on the step and wiping his brow. “Maybe if this next volume of Pink Dark Boy is even better than the last, I can take credit for it.” He winked, and Izumi tittered, before the front door suddenly swung open. The two of them turned to greet Kishibe politely.

“Oh, excellent timing, Izumi,” he breathed, “I was just coming to offer Otoishi a bit of iced tea.” The artist raised a small pitcher in his hand and Izumi cooed with excitement. “I thought that since it's a beautiful day... and Otoishi's been working terribly hard... we could all have a drink together here on the porch.” Rohan placed his free hand on his hip and shrugged.

“What a good idea!” Izumi agreed. She turned back to Akira to add, “See? He's in such a good mood lately, without all these chores to worry about! Now you stay here, I'll go grab some glasses!” She hurried into the house and Rohan nodded towards the small table where he often sat to drink his morning coffee. Akira followed his lead.

It wasn't long before Izumi returned with glasses brimming with ice cubes, and the three of them sat down together for a drink. Rohan was quiet, as he often was, more inclined to watch as the younger two individuals carried on idle conversation.

“Gosh, I really can't believe you've been out working in his heat,” Izumi said, fanning herself.

“It's not so bad,” Akira offered. “And it's like you said... better me doing it than Kishibe-sensei, right?”

Izumi nodded and the two looked expectantly at Rohan, whose eyes seemed slightly glazed over, the straw of his drink missing his mouth. At the sudden attention he blinked rapidly and agreed, “...right. Right, exactly.”

“Well.” Akira set down his glass, empty now. “Speaking of, I ought to get back to work. The flowerbeds won't mulch themselves.”

“True enough...” Rohan laced his fingers together, let his chin rest on top of them as he gazed at Akira. “In the meantime, I think Izumi and I can have our meeting right here. Don't you agree?”

“Oh!” The young woman grinned. “Yes, that would be lovely!”

“Perfect. And Otoishi, do join us for another drink whenever you're feeling thirsty. We wouldn't want you getting too hot.”

“Of course! Thank you!” Akira smiled as he rose from his seat and left to carry on with his work.

He was quite proud to note that any time he turned to look over at the porch, both Izumi and Kishibe seemed to be watching him with looks of approval.

    -

    As the summer days rolled on, what had started on that one warm day with a loose tie and a couple of undone buttons slowly descended into a pit of temptation. It was impossible for Akira to ignore that his employer was continuing to show more skin, little by little. Rohan would answer the door with his shirt unbuttoned down to his sternum – his navel – then, completely. “Ugh, excuse my appearance,” he would say, rolling his eyes, “I’ve been so busy. I’m just so tired. It’s so hot today.” Sometimes his long fingers would travel down his front, as if there was any question to what he was referring. Akira’s eyes would inevitably dip and his cheeks would heat up, always praying that Rohan didn’t notice.

Kishibe was really quite an attractive man, after all. Akira hadn’t initially thought about him that way, but the more glimpses he caught of his boss’ body, the more aware he was of a developing crush.

He felt a bit dirty, ashamed, but… Rohan didn’t seem to feel the slightest bit self-conscious or embarrassed by Akira seeing his exposed skin. He never bothered to fix his attire, anyway. And so Akira figured it might be okay to just keep nursing this little crush of his, as long as he didn’t act on it.

But not acting on it only became more and more difficult. While the amount of clothing decreased, the number of hours Kishibe requested of him rose significantly. And what’s more, the artist had grown much more comfortable with Akira in the few short months that they’d known each other. Being comfortable in Akira’s personal space meant all the more opportunity for touching: a hand resting gently on the small of Akira’s back while Rohan explained a task. Fingertips grazing along the length of his arm as his boss moved to point something out. A playful tap on the thigh as they laughed about something at the end of the day over tea, and Kishibe’s warm palm coming to settle there for a few long moments after.

Every touch felt charged with electricity. Akira could feel his heartbeat quicken, his breath catch in his throat, his legs shifting awkwardly to ward off the warm feeling gathering between them.

The worst – perhaps best? – were the moments when the artist would touch him and then peer up through dark eyelashes, shirt fully open, his other hand holding a pen or stirring spoon to slightly-parted lips…

Damn it…

Rohan had to recognize by now what he was doing to the younger man! Had to know how desirable he was coming off. Was he doing it on purpose? Was he flirting?!

As if this wasn’t already enough to send Akira spiraling, it was too much to bear when Rohan started answering the door in nothing but a thin cotton yukata.

“Oh, sorry for my outfit…” Rohan muttered, brushing back his bangs. “I’m just working on such a tight deadline. I roll out of bed and I’m practically drawing before my feet touch the ground.” He reached out to rest a hand on Akira’s shoulder. The taller man swallowed hard.

“No need to apologize,” he managed.

Rohan’s hand slipped down to rest on Akira’s chest now. “I knew you’d understand. You’re so sweet.” He patted Akira and smiled, turning then to re-enter the house as his garment slipped down a bit to reveal a bare shoulder.

Akira hesitated in the doorway for a moment, worrying his bottom lip as he collected his thoughts.

All things considered, maybe having a hot boss wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

He took in a breath and dutifully followed Rohan up to the studio to get his assignments for the day.

Immediately upon entering the room, Rohan dropped into his chair and stretched himself out, legs crossed, one hand casually propping up his chin while the other beckoned forth a small breeze from his desk fan. The woefully unsecured yukata shifted down his arms and draped from his body in a way that left little to the imagination; Akira's eyes darted to the ground and he cleared his throat.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” Rohan asked.

“Uh... No, it's just, um...” Akira stepped closer and Rohan gazed up at him expectantly. “I think your obi may have come undone,” he mumbled, and with nervous hands he tugged the front of the garment closed, attempting to give his boss a bit more privacy.

“Ah! How embarrassing,” Rohan breathed, turning his head to the side but not yet moving to adjust the robe.

“N-no, not at all,” Akira assured him, swallowing hard. “It's, uh. It's fine. Nothing to be embarrassed about! You're... ah.” He scratched at his neck and looked away. “You're... kinda beautiful, sensei. Like those sculptures in Italy, y'know?”

Rohan seemed to consider this for a moment. “From the Roman empire, or the Renaissance period?”

“Um...”

“Nevermind.” Rohan sat up straight and pulled the garment back up to his shoulders. “It was a kind thing to say. Thank you.”

Akira nodded, grinning sheepishly, and was soon put to work without another mention of it.

    -

    The rest of the summer carried on much like that, though Akira had decided thereafter to savor the glimpses of his boss' skin in silence. He had been damn lucky, he thought, that Rohan hadn't been scandalized or annoyed at his compliment.

So, while Akira mostly kept his eyes on his work, he'd steal glances here and there when given the opportunity, of which there were many that summer; Like on the day when Rohan had greeted him in a crop-top and cut-offs that were both way too short, and announced that it was too hot to work, and they should go out for ice cream instead.

But, inevitably, the seasons began to change in Morioh. The days grew shorter, outfits grew more modest, and Akira slowly found himself confronting an unfortunate truth: doing odd jobs around Rohan’s home for a few afternoons every week wasn’t a sustainable source of income. As it was, he was barely making ends meet. But now his heating bills were about to start climbing, and besides, he was trying to save up for a new Stratocaster…

Finally, on one lazy afternoon when Kishibe had invited him to share a cup of tea, Akira told his boss as much.

“...So what I’m saying is, I’m gonna have to start looking for some full-time work,” he finished, uneasy.

Rohan was scowling down into his cup. “That means you won’t be working for me anymore.”

“Well, not necessarily! I guess it depends what my schedule ends up looking like. I bet I’ll still be able to help out on the weekends…”

Rohan sniffed indignantly and turned away. “That’s hardly useful. Haven’t you been happy working here?”

“O-of course! Honestly, I don’t want to stop helping you out, Kishibe-sensei. I love being here. It’s just a matter of necessity. I gotta start bringing in more money.”

“Then what if I offered you a full-time position?” Rohan whirled around to capture Akira’s eyes.

“Um.” He blinked. “I mean, that would be awesome, but what would I...?”

“Surely you’ve noticed that I need a proper assistant around here. Izumi isn’t able to give me her full attention, and up until now you’ve been under-utilized. So why don’t we make this official? You’ll have a consistent work schedule, and in addition to everything you're doing now, you’ll also lend a hand with more sensitive matters.”

Akira lit up. “Like scanning manuscripts and stuff?”

“And stuff,” Rohan replied with a short nod. “You’ll be expected to travel with me on business trips as well. Basically, you'll be my right-hand man.”

“That would… That actually sounds perfect, sensei. But are you sure about this?”

“Of course. I’ve been meaning to hire someone for that purpose anyway. And this saves me the trouble of having to trust a complete stranger with my work.”

“Damn.” Akira was glowing. He was so impossibly lucky! To be the assistant to his favorite artist ever? Who also happened to be the kindest boss he’d ever had…?

“Tell you what.” Rohan retrieved his wallet from his pocket and procured a credit card, which he slid across the table. “You’ll need some new clothes for this role. Take the weekend and get whatever you need. Suits, ties. Be sure to get them properly tailored, we need you looking your best.” He paused, eyes roaming over his faithful employee. “Plus, anything else you might like for your wardrobe. Consider it a bonus for doing such a great job around here.”

“Thank you, Kishibe-sensei! Seriously.” Akira leapt to his feet and grabbed Rohan’s hand. “You’re really incredible. I appreciate it so much.”

Rohan flashed him a satisfied smile. “It's my pleasure, Otoishi.”

    -

    The Monday following their conversation, Akira started his new job in earnest. He arrived that morning in one of his brand new suits, hair done up, trying to look as professional as possible. Rohan seemed thrilled at the very sight of him. Task number one was to accompany Rohan on a shopping trip to pick out a desk suitable for a busy assistant. Task two was positioning it in the studio while Rohan supervised. Ultimately, the desk ended up across from Rohan's own – “This way, we can speak face-to-face without getting up from our work. You see?”

Akira nodded. “You're sure this spot is good?” he asked, somewhat out of breath, as he settled into his new chair. “I’m not blocking your view or anything?”

“Not at all.” Rohan came around to the back of the chair and put his hands on the headrest, leaning over Akira a bit. “I think this will be perfect. Things will be so much more, ah… efficient around here now.”

Akira beamed up at him. “Glad I could help. I'm so grateful for this, really. Can't wait to get started.”

“Well then!” Rohan patted his shoulder lightly, “I know you've probably got this room memorized like the back of your hand by now, but let's do a proper walk-through, shall we?”

Akira offered an enthusiastic nod and got back to his feet, with Rohan's hand coming to rest at his lower back as he guided his assistant towards his flat-files.

    -

    Working as an assistant certainly had its perks. For one thing, it gave Akira major bragging rights in his small circle of friends, all of whom were working pretty mundane day-jobs in between music gigs. And the work itself was pretty rewarding, too. He couldn't believe he was entrusted to touch Rohan Kishibe's original drawings! In addition to current works, Akira had been given the task of making a digital archive of any and all artwork that was in the house. He'd gotten to pore over page layouts from early on in Kishibe's career, stuff he'd drawn when he was still a teenager, for god's sake – it was the ultimate nerd job, in that sense.

Furthermore, Akira actually felt useful, which was a damn big change from the past few years of his life. He wasn't doing anything as far-reaching or as awesome as Rohan, but he was helping it get made, helping the creator operate at his very best; and that was something, right?

Then, of course, there was the other aspect of it. The I-kind-of-maybe-definitely-have-a-crush-on-my-boss aspect that made it an absolute pleasure to simply be near the artist. And in his newfound position of responsibility, he had been given another very important duty that he very much enjoyed: providing physical comfort, when necessary.

That was the third curious development in their relationship.

Oh, it was all innocent enough of course! Rohan had likened it to a cup of tea, a weighted blanket, a stress ball. Sometimes he just needed a body, and Akira was more than happy to provide one.

So when the artist was tired, he would ask Akira to hold him – just an embrace, nothing more, though sometimes the mangaka did in fact doze off in the other's lap. On these occasions Akira prayed that the rapid beating of his heart wouldn't disturb his boss' sleep.

When stressed, Akira was ordered to massage his back, shoulders, neck, whatever ailed him. Rohan always said that it helped him think clearly.

And when he was feeling especially sad, he would simply ask Akira to sit on his lap, just a warm body to squeeze and sigh against and help him find his way back to the moment.

For example, business meetings with publishers tended to be stressful and almost always prompted a need for Akira's special kind of comfort. Rohan absolutely hated talking with executives, and when there was no Izumi to act as a filter between the two, discussions could get pretty heated.

“Unbelievable,” Rohan muttered after one such occasion, burying his face in Akira's shoulder. “Did you hear the way that imbecile spoke to me?”

“They should know by now to just trust you,” Akira replied, shaking his head. “You obviously know what you're doing.”

“Exactly!” Rohan sighed and tangled his fingers in Akira's hair. “At least I have you, Otoishi. Honestly, at times it feels like you're the only person in the world who understands me. Thank you.”

Akira tried to conceal just how much that comment made his heart swell. “Of course, sensei,” he replied quietly. He would follow Rohan Kishibe to the end of the Earth. But he refrained from saying as much.

Rohan sighed again and began to stroke up and down Akira's back, fingertips running over his spine. The younger man shivered a bit, in spite of himself, and heard Rohan chuckle under his breath at the reaction.

“Oh? Sorry,” the artist mumbled, bringing his hand to a stop, “I hope that didn't bother you.”

“Not at all!” Akira quickly assured him. He looked away so his boss wouldn't see the pink rising into his face. “Just… surprised me, that's all. It actually felt kind of... nice. If it's soothing for you, then hey, go for it.”

So Rohan hummed and leaned into him again, repeating the slow drag up and down Akira's vertebrae. Akira swallowed hard, focused on a spot on the ceiling, and willed himself not to do any of the things that his body wanted to in that moment.

As if determined to make this task even more difficult for his poor assistant, Rohan suddenly tugged at the hem of Akira's shirt and slipped his hand beneath the fabric, then continued on as if nothing had changed. The ever so slight drag of his fingernails against Akira's skin caused the guitarist to lose his breath, goose-bumps pricking up all along his arms.

“Feels good?” Rohan asked gently, his voice low, and with something else in it that Akira didn't quite recognize, though it made his stomach tighten.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and it was the truth. It felt good, good, too good. He wasn't sure that it was supposed to. “U-um. But,” he stammered, “Don't worry about me, sensei, really. Are you feeling any better?”

“Much better, thank you,” murmured the other.

    -

    It was a gloomy, unsuspecting afternoon when The Big One happened. A meeting that went painfully awry and had Rohan arguing loudly with his colleague, struggling for restraint. Apparently, the publisher was canceling Kishibe's new spin-off project after deciding that his latest refusal to work with their revisions was the last straw.

Akira was approaching from the hallway when he heard the shouting match, tempers flaring on both sides. He was no stranger to Kishibe-san's bouts of anger, of course, but usually the mangaka was able to keep his demeanor cold and reasonably collected, funneling his anger through condescending commentary. This amount of shouting and cursing here implied that the executive had deeply offended Kishibe's honor and stood resolute in their decision to do so. Akira set down the laundry hamper he'd been carrying and paused to listen.

“Kishibe, for the last time, this is the publishing board's decision, and it is non-negotiable. We have nothing else to discuss, so I am ending this call.”

“Don't you dare hang up on me! I'm not done --”

A soft beeping tone indicated that the video call had been terminated, and Rohan's voice swearing loudly echoed through the halls of the old house. There was a metallic clang, most likely the trash bin being kicked over (which Akira made a mental note to clean up later.)

Once silence had finally settled over the studio, Akira peered in through the doorway to check on his superior. Rohan's elbows were resting on the desk, his hands laced together in front of his face.

“Sensei…?”

Rohan didn’t move. “...Akira. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

The younger man entered the doorway fully. “Is there anything —“

“Yes.” Something rough and intimidating permeated his voice. “There is something you can do to make me feel better. Come here.”

Akira did so and Rohan turned the chair around to face him. He was tense as ever; a muscle in his jaw was twitching, and his eyebrows were drawn into angry arches as he looked up at his assistant. “Take off your shirt,” he demanded.

Akira was surprised by the abruptness of the command, but questioning his boss right now hardly seemed wise. He promptly obeyed, tugging the top up over his head. Immediately Rohan’s hand was on his abs, fingers splayed out, his expression unchanged. Akira sucked in a breath as his boss reached further upwards, fingertips grazing over his web of old scars.

“Pants,” Rohan said suddenly, and Akira didn’t have to guess his meaning. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle for a few endless seconds, then opened the fly of his pants and he bent to tug them down.

In an instant Rohan was out of the chair and kneeling in front of him, his eyes softening just slightly as he studied the obvious outline in Akira’s underwear. Licking his lips, Rohan dragged his eyes upwards to meet Akira’s own.

Akira gasped as his entire body trembled, his hands leaping to Rohan’s head to steady himself. “S-sensei?” Rohan hummed to acknowledge him. “What are you...?”

Rohan sighed and pulled back a bit, glancing upwards again. “I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing. Now, are you okay with it or not?”

“I...” Akira bit at his lip, blushing deeply. “I mean, uh... Yes? But... Are you sure...?”

That seemed to be all Rohan needed to hear, because in the next moment, he was yanking Akira’s boxers down past his knees.

-

When all was said and done, Rohan met Akira’s gaze with confident eye contact and wiped his mouth on his forearm; Akira’s mind was buzzing, uselessly.

“Tch…” Rohan reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and cleaned himself up quickly, as casually as if it were just a few drops of rain on an otherwise pleasant day. “You’re always so good to me,” he praised quietly, climbing up and into Akira's lap. His arms were around his assistant at once, his legs kicking out over the arm of the chair while his fingers played lazily with purple curls. “I think you deserve a raise for all of your hard work around here.”

“I… Thank you, sensei,” Akira breathed, still struggling to put together coherent thoughts.

    -

    A few days after this monumental occasion, when returning home for the evening, Akira found a large package waiting at his doorstep. Curious, he double- and triple-checked that the name and address on it was, in fact, his own. Eventually he brought it inside and laid it out on his living room floor to open it.

“No... way…” he whispered.

Looking back at him from the package was a brand new Ultra Luxe Fender Stratocaster.

    -

    Unsurprisingly, their dynamic shifted after the encounter. For one thing, now whenever Akira accompanied Kishibe on business trips, the two of them would share a hotel bed. And more often than not, he found himself helping his boss unwind after a long day in his special way...

Any time Rohan needed a confidence boost before an important meeting or a release of nerves after a media appearance, Akira dutifully allowed himself to be pressed against a wall or shoved into a bathroom stall, giving the mangaka's mouth and hands full reign over him.

This symbiotic relationship – loaded word as it was – continued on quite peacefully as the months came and went. And though they never spoke of it, there would always appear a small token of Rohan’s appreciation after the fact, whether in the form of a ludicrous bouquet or some audio gear that Akira had recently been daydreaming about. It wasn't necessary; Akira would happily serve as Rohan's companion even without the rewards afterwards, and even if there wasn't a paycheck involved. But he decided he ought to be grateful and not look a gift horse in the mouth... He was damn lucky to have found himself in his position, and he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about the special treatment.

    -

    On one otherwise unremarkable afternoon, as Akira was double-checking a contract, he could feel Kishibe’s eyes all over him -- and he had a feeling he knew why. Just as he was about to ask if he had something on his face, it occurred to him that all morning, he’d been absentmindedly using his free hand to rub at his left nipple, and his boss must have noticed.

“Um... Kishibe-sensei,” he said sheepishly. The mangaka paused in his work and met Akira’s eyes properly. “Do you mind if I do away with the shirt today? I wanted it to be a surprise, but… I got a new piercing last night, and it’s chafing like hell.”

For a split second Rohan almost looked flustered… almost. But then he nodded solemnly and replied, “Of course, go ahead. You know I want you to feel comfortable when you’re here.”

“Thank you sensei,” Akira breathed. He promptly unbuttoned his snug top and placed it over the back of his chair. He looked down at his chest, at the nipple that was sore and red. He pouted a bit, then glanced up to meet Rohan’s dark, hungry eyes.

“You know, Otoishi… I’ve just remembered something important I needed to do today. Why don’t we take a break from office work so you can give me a hand?” He rose from his chair and arched a brow before turning to leave the room.

Akira sat up straight in his chair and brightened.

He’d had his eye on an expensive new guitar amp lately.

And he had a good feeling about this.

-

Bonus:

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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[dwellordream]

“…Being a damsel was a specific job. It meant that you were a lady in waiting in a house that was not your own. A lot of the time the period of service would kick in around about thirteen when families had educated their daughters to a level that was deemed sufficient. The next step of their education was to get refined and ladified, so they would get shipped to live with another, usually richer and more powerful, family.

Damsels did all sorts of work. They embroidered and helped with cloth production. They made their lady’s bed. They took messages to other rich people if their mistresses didn’t feel like going themselves. In general, they made themselves useful in whatever way was best. In return, they learned how great houses were run, made contacts among the aristocracy, and hopefully made a good impression so that they could secure a marriage with a nice (rich) young man as well.

Anyway the thing about being a damsel, as my patron Max (shout out!) pointed out, is that the main sort of work you did was essentially being an inverse influencer.

This is because the major thing that damsels did was be very conspicuously pretty, well dressed, and hanging out with the woman that they were serving, especially in ceremonial circumstances. Phillips notes, for example, that Dame Katherine Grey and Mistress Ditton served at Elizabeth of York’s (1466-1503) coronation in 1487 by going “under the table where they sat on either side of the Queen’s feet all the dinner time.” Similarly, the Countesses of Oxford and Rivers “kneeled on either side of the Queen, and at certain times held a kerchief before her Grace”.[2]

Now this is an extremely specific (and weird) flex. What Elizabeth was showing was that she was surrounded by hot important chicks at all times. She had so many hot important chicks around her that they just hung out to pass her a napkin when she needed it. Hell, she had hot important chicks sitting under the table where you can’t even see them just because she can. It’s like a late medieval version of a selfie full of Instagram baddies and a caption that says, “Quiet Tuesday in with these idiots, yawn.”

The point of having a bunch of damsels around you was to create a spectacle which highlighted the woman in charge. She looks very feminine and very powerful because she has lots of feminine powerful women surrounding her and serving her. In return, the damsels get to be a part of the spectacle and prove that they are well connected and feminine enough to be used in this manner. It’s a form of display and you, peasant, are meant to be very very impressed by it. So basically, a powerful lady or queen with a large retinue is running a hype house. I will not be apologizing for this analogy, thanks.

This is interesting though, because it acts in a sort of reverse way from how influencers work now. Influencers are, of course, expected to be extremely hot, and usually conspicuously feminine when they are women. When we have to deal with every white girl in the world in a pair of suede boots at a pumpkin patch every autumn they are acting out a specific form of girly-girlness that we are meant to recognise, respect, and respond to.

However, unlike damsels which are meant to make it clear that someone is very important, and indeed much more important than their audience, influencers have to make their audiences feel as though they are actually friends. Yes, they are standing in a million-dollar beach house in a three-hundred-dollar bikini, but maybe you could be there too with them! The only thing preventing you from doing so is buying X product which will make you just like them.

…So the difference is that influencers are attempting to create what we in the analysing society game refer to as “parasocial relationships”. That’s a technical way of saying when you feel like you have a relationship with someone based off of their media output. So, you know like how you feel that you are friends with the people who are on your favourite podcast? That is a parasocial relationship and that is what influencers do. This is in stark contrast with damsels and ladies’ courts who are extremely on a Mean Girls vibe and doing “on Wednesdays we wear pink” in front of an audience who knows that they, decisively, cannot sit with them.

Hilariously in both the medieval and modern contexts, whether the women in question are letting you know you are not friends, are trying to make you think that you are, the pretty ladies doing the display make some people very very sad. Phillips notes that in the fourteenth-century Book of Vices and Virtues it was written that damsels wearing pretty clothes were in mortal danger of their souls, both because they were vain and because they inspired lechery in the dudes who saw them. It reads:

“To behold these ladies and these maidens and damsels arrayed and appareled, that often [time] apparel them more quaintly and gaily for to make [foolish] lookers to look on them and [think] not to do great sin … But certainly they sin well grievously, for they make and be the cause of loss of many souls, and where-through many men are dead and fall into great sin; for men say in old proverbs, ‘Ladies of rich and gay apparel are arrow blast [against] the tower.’ For she has no member on her body that is not a [snare] of the devil, as Solomon says, wherefore they must yield accounts at the day of doom of all the souls that by reason of them are damned.”[3]

In other words, the damsels at court might think there is nothing wrong with being conspicuously hot in public, but in fact, it is very sinful because it creates a sinful society and encourages lust in men. TL/DR: dressing up in public means that you are in league with the devil.

…This is important to note because both medieval European society and our society now have a clearly very fraught relationship with women displaying themselves in public. The attempt to control gaze both then and now has some very visceral reactions. It can make people feel awe, or build entire relationships in their mind. It can also enrage people to the point that they condemn these women even though, and this is crucial, in neither case were they actually in a relationship with their audiences.

The important thing to take away from all of this is that women being put on display, and using that to wield power, is a very old practice. What has changed over time is the way that display is focused. Medieval people used it to keep others as an outgroup, and people now use it to make outsiders feel as though they are in. Overall, the goal is the same: accruing power, prestige, and respect to the woman who is in control of her image. This often results in backlash but the thing about it is that the world has yet to end because a bunch of hot chicks hung out one time and then someone felt bad about themselves.

Do I think that either iteration of hyper-feminine display is necessarily laudable? Not especially. I am just saying it is a constant feature in our society, and if you want to get rid of it, then we need to rethink our approach to femininity more generally. Until we can offer women more ways to gain prestige, we are gonna keep going back to old reliable: being conventionally attractive. I find it hard to get mad about that.

- Dr. Eleanor Janega, “On damsels and influencers.”

[floralovebot]

How do you think Helia’s “i’m just gg to disappear becuz ive fucked up and i feel like it” tendency affected his relationships with others. Like the guys, or Flora and even Saladin. Like do you think it might have given them trust issues regarding his reliability?

oooo... very nice question.

The really interesting thing about Helia's escapism tendencies is that they almost always come out of left field. Like it completely surprises them every time it happens, even more so the first time it happened. And this is mostly because Helia himself comes off as a very reliable and trustworthy person. I mean Timmy called Helia to help them like after a month of knowing each other and it's like? He didn't even warm up to Brandon that fast. Helia never really gives people reason to believe that he would just... leave or that they can't rely on him. So when he does actually get up and leave, it always surprises them (add on that he never tells them beforehand unlike characters like Bloom).

Ironically enough, Flora is probably the least bothered by it despite her being (arguably) the person he's hurt the most by doing this. The thing is... Flora completely understands it. Remember in the first season when she was fully prepared to live in the fucking swamp because the girls were mad at her? Flora 100% understands what it's like to disappoint people and to want to fully fuck off because of it. And while she is often confused about why he got upset in the first place, she never hates him for leaving. Flora cares about Helia so much that no matter how many times he leaves, she'll always try at least once to get him to come back. And since his escapism tendencies majorly calm down after he realizes how much he loves them, it never really affected their relationship in a negative way and it certainly doesn't affect how she views him in the future. If anything, I'd say these times strengthened their relationship and understanding of each other.

Now the Specialists on the other hand... I find it hilarious and also really sad how they got more hurt than Flora did. I really want to talk about Timmy in particular because he was the one who was most affected whenever Helia left. I've said this before but before Helia, Timmy really didn't have a super close best friend on the specialists team. Sky and Brandon were already besties and he practically hated Riven before he got better so he was majorly in need of a close friend. Then Helia comes along and he's not this super macho man who keeps making fun of him?

It gets missed if you're not paying attention to the specialists as much but Timmy fucking idolized Helia for a while. He had this idealized version of Helia in his head that could do no wrong and would always be the perfect friend. And that's why Helia ditching them affected him so much. While Flora reacted with confusion and sadness, Timmy got angry. He was genuinely hurt that Helia was being a bad friend and couldn't understand why. In fact, it was literally Riven that had to tell him "bro you're being weird Helia isn't perfect no one is calm your tits". This didn't actually make their relationship worse though, it made it better. Timmy had to go through this little self realization moment where he realized that he was placing impossible standards of "goodness" on Helia and how that wasn't healthy for either of them. It made him take a step back and go "yeah we're friends but I can't expect him to be perfect all the time and I can't rely on him like that". It made their relationship more even, balanced, and ultimately a lot healthier.

Saladin is sad because he mostly just feels disappointed and potentially even guilty. It's hard to say exactly how he feels since we don't get a lot of inner dialogue with him, but we know that Saladin cares deeply about Helia and that he really just wants what's best for him. Saladin mostly seems to be sad that Helia feels like he can't rely on him or that he needs to escape every now and then to be happy. He gets disappointed in himself for not being able to help Helia properly. And this shows up really clearly when it's shown how much he's willing to help Helia escape and how happy he is when Helia actually makes a decision.

It's honestly really funny but no one ever actually distrusts him afterward and they don't rely on him less. They often get confused about why he's left in the first place, but then once the situation gets explained they always understand and agree with him. If he ends up hurting Flora they get mad at him but he always made up for it and apologized properly so they never actually stayed mad for long (and they didn't hold a grudge against him - something they often do with the guys).

I think, for the most part, Helia's escapism was really tied to feeling like he didn't belong anywhere and trying to escape from really harsh expectations and rules. And once he realizes that he is free from all of that when he's with the specialists and winx, he stops trying to escape from his life. At the end of the day, they know that he'll be there when they need it even when he's going through one of his moods.

[ganymedesclock]

I’m gonna ask a dumb question. Is nan related to Great Larigma(did I spell her name correctly?)?

Nan is not related to Lagrima in the familial sense, no! They do have a connection though.

Gods in rpgverse are basically natural spirits. There's both wild gods and gods-from-men. The latter are folkloric figures who gather enough attention, worship, or belief to either transform from a prior state, or just sort of manifest ex nihilo. In the former case you could feasibly have a ghost of a dead human who apotheosizes in this way and thus has living human relatives.

Wild gods, though, are basically just natural forces who were never human, and don't relate to humans particularly more than they relate to any other part of existence, just that sapient beings can make and ply complicated magical rules to seek their attention a little more often.

Lagrima is the second category; she's one of the Trinal, which are three gods that specifically appear as dragons, and are worshiped widely throughout Terios. Nan's mom worked in a temple, so, she was exposed to Trinal worship from an early age and it's still sort of significant to her. In particular, within Terios, some people are born with golden eyes, and this is a mark of an uncommonly powerful connection with light magic. It's believed to be a sign of favor from the gods. Nan was born with one golden eye, and her child, Beauregard, has two much brighter golden eyes. Beau is a little too young to be deliberately ritual invoking any gods, and if Nan has anything to say about it, he won't start until he's much older, if at all.

Of the Trinal gods, Joyeuse is seen as, well, the god of rejoicing, glad tidings, and euphoria; Somne is seen as the god of apathy and rest, and Lagrima the god of grief and pain. All are, ultimately, healing forces; they see themselves as benevolent and are fondly disposed to humanity, which is why they're remembered collectively as benefactors. Joyeuse brings happiness and excitement, Lagrima releases despair through the catharsis of tears and bloodletting, and Somne in turn offers release from either of the other two. Any of them can become overwhelming; they embody these emotions more or less without human limits.

Needless to say, this does not make them extremely comforting as figures to have a personal emotional relationship with. Nan does not particularly like being 'favored by gods' because having their attention isn't a uniformly good thing, even if it means she can sometimes catch the ears of very powerful beings.

Metatextually, Nan is kind of a version of the 'white mage'/holy cleric concept in many rpgs. She is actually a holy person, and can pray to invoke the gods. This tangles in quite a bit with the fact that at this point in her life, she's about as unvirginal as it gets- she's had a child out of wedlock, she drinks, she's a killer and a thief. She's also had pretty much abjectly the furthest thing from a charmed life, so, the fact that of the Trinal, Lagrima is the one who responds the most reliably and powerfully when she calls is sort of a bitter thing to her.

From Lagrima's POV, Nan calls to her specifically because Nan is full of suffering. That's simply what makes sense. There is no judgment. There is nothing wrong with grief; it is simply the nature of humanity, and of water, to flow. And Nan is a very good human worth listening to; she breaks open what is stationary, and fixed, and immutable. She is a bringer of pain. And pain is the way that suffering leaves the body.

Beau, meanwhile, is pure, and that actually makes Beau a lot scarier in terms of god invoking. Because Beau usually invokes Joyeuse, and if you think Lagrima sounds like the scary god, Lagrima understands what pain is.

[timelesslords]

So Under Freezing Stars is finally done 😭I’m incredibly sad it's over but also so happy with the finished product and with the response it's gotten over the past few months <3 

I thought it might be fun to compile some little details about the fic- easter eggs and callbacks to the original books, little thematic details and symbols I included, chapter parallels, stuff like that! Everything is below the cut to avoid spoilers, but hopefully y’all find it fun and it’s an interesting way to top everything off :’) 

Symbolism/Theme

the first time Annabeth drinks nectar, she can’t put a taste to it. This is because she’s in a transitional period with her identity, where she hasn’t quite solidified a sense of home. When she wakes up after being given nectar for the second time, her mouth tastes like apples because her and Perseus had split one together back on the ship. It’s the first food they shared together after she starts associating him with the concept of home, so the nectar takes on that taste. also apples are a sacred fruit of aphrodite so, ya know ;) 

Water plays a big role thematically. There’s the obvious connection to Perseus (whenever Annabeth is looking out into the sea during an unrelated conversation, it’s sort of supposed to indicate that he’s on her mind) but also the more traditional symbolic meanings of water— washing someone/something clean, renewal, rebirth, etc. all of which are themes of the book anyways so it worked out!! Chapters to watch for water symbolism would be 18 and 32 in particular but really anytime there’s an emphasis on the sea

the quote I chose for the epigraph (”Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen”) is from Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi, one of my favorite books! In the context of Freshwater, this quote is when the main character (spoiler) meets someone from their culture who helps them realize they’re a god. It just felt like a particularly perfect way to start off the story, given how many parallels there are to that moment in Freshwater to the entirety UFS. Even without context it frames the story of one of self discovery, but particularly self discovery in tandem with another, which is exactly what I think UFS is about at its core. Freshwater is an incredible book that I owe so much to in terms of inspiring UFS thematically and I def recommend it, though please look up TWs for it beforehand bc it does contain a lot of triggering content.

another more obvious meta thing, the chapter titles switch from Latin to Greek after Annabeth realizes she’s Greek and not Roman 

Chapter Parallels 

 ch20 is called divinity because Annabeth views the sex as akin to a religious awakening— sleeping with her lover is both an act of worship and a revelatory experience wherein she comes to terms with the godly side of her identity. But chapter 33 is called mortal because the thing that makes them special together isn’t necessarily their parentage or their godliness, it’s their humanity. Gods can’t bare their souls to one another because they don’t have one. But mortals— vulnerable and breakable as they are— have that advantage, and when they sleep together the second time Annabeth is fully cognizant and appreciative of that fact.  

The drooling in sleep thing is obviously a callback to the OG books (it’s such an iconic first line I had to include it somehow lol) but it also has a thematic parallel (one that Annabeth actually points out within the narrative). That was one of the first moments she recognized he was human and not some unattainable figure, so it comes back to her later in ch33 when she's thinking about their mortality

In ch14, Piper offers to fix Annabeth’s hair as a peace offering. In ch33, Perseus untangles her hair for her because the idea of doing it herself is overwhelming for her. I just really like the idea of caring for someone else’s hair being an act of love towards that person :’) 

Easter Eggs/OG Book Callbacks

Blackjack asking for fried dough at the end of chapter 4 is a reference to him always asking for donuts in the original books (yes I did google “did they have donuts in ancient rome” for that lol)

The way they fight the hellhound in ch6 (Percy distracting in the front and Annabeth sneaking around the back) is their go-to fighting strategy in the books, which Percy comments on in BOTL

Obviously Jason passing out every 30 seconds is a reference to Jason getting knocked out like 3x a book in HOO (#brason)

Fai turning into a lizard in the Athens chapter is a callback to Frank the Iguana from MOA

the masthead of the ship being a dragon is meant to be reminiscent of Festus  

Other stuff!

Chapter 16 is named calm and chapter 17 is named storm bc 16 is the calm before the (literal) storm

Annabeth saying “is your head full of kelp” to percy in ch13 is the closest I could feasibly get to her calling him seaweed brain lol. I think in chapter 15 she also comments to herself that she feels like his brain is made of seaweed sometimes <3  

When Annabeth decides to let Jason and Piper wake up on their own instead of waking them up herself in ch32, it’s sort of a callback to previous comments she’s made about Jason not being a morning person. She’s still scared that he’ll be mad at her, and she doesn’t want to exacerbate that by waking him up early because she knows he’s in a worse mood in the morning. 

In the final conversation with Jason, Annabeth says “you’re always too hard on yourself” which is kind of a play on her last words to Luke in the original books (“you always pushed yourself too hard”). I don’t know why but I’ve always really liked that line, it feels very Annabeth, so I wanted to include it somehow. Jason isn’t dying but she does love him like a brother so that felt like a good place for it to go. 

something to generally look out for is how reliable or not reliable Annabeth’s narration is. She’s not like a Holden Caufield where she straight up lies to the audience, but her thoughts and observations are not always the most true version of what’s going on. This is probably most obvious in the Luke conflict (particularly chapters 21 and 23) but also when she has to read other people’s emotions and make assumptions about what they’re thinking based on that. A lot of times she’s straight up wrong and just doesn’t realize it (this is particularly relevant in ch14 lol)

another general thing to look at is chapter titles, particularly in the second half of the book. A lot of times the title of the chapter is one of the main themes of the story and that chapter is either an important plot point for that theme or a resolution of it! 

That’s all I can think of right now! I might update this later if I remember more but this is already stupidly long lol. I would apologize for turning my fic into an English assignment but if you made it this far you probably thought it was at least a little interesting, so 😂 

thank you guys again for reading <3 love you all!

[scorpionatori]

NatsuYuu Character Names Kanji

(note: this is a compilation of the kanji and their meanings and doesn’t have any info on history or context of these names. kanji is also pretty complicated and versatile and they can have different meanings and connotations depending on what other kanji they’re paired with)

夏目貴志 (Natsume Takashi)

夏=summer; 目=eye (given the kanji for “eye”, possibly a reference to his ability to see things others can’t?)

貴=precious; 志=intention (fitting for his personality and kind-hearted nature, as well as as his resolution and good intentions for wanting to return the names in the book of friends instead of using it for his own benefit)

夏目レイコ (Natsume Reiko)

EDIT: the Fandom Wiki had a kanji spelling for her name but I’ve never seen official kanji so I’m just taking that out. However, “rei” can be written as 霊 which means “spirit/souls”. It is used in the word 幽霊 (yuurei) which means ghost as well as other words related to spirits. “ko” in names is generally written in kanji as 子 which means child. So her name could be interpreted as “spirit child”, given her being a sort of “ghost” in this series.

斑 (Madara)

斑=speckled, spotted (pretty self-explanatory. he’s a creature with spotted markings)

田沼要 (Tanuma Kaname)

田=rice field; 沼=marsh (family names with 田 are very common and I’m not sure how much hidden meaning could be in this. “marsh” could be a reference to his pond, which, if that’s the case, I find it interesting that a kanji referring to marshes and wetlands and swamps, which have murky and unclear water, is used, given the fact that Tanuma doesn’t have clear vision when it comes to youkai)

要=pivot, vital point, keystone (he is a turning point in Natsume’s life, being the first person he meets whom he can share the knowledge of his abilities with. he is a source of reliability and support, and is someone important to Natsume both in his “normal” world and his world of being involved with youkai)

多軌透 (Taki Tooru)

多=many, multi-; 軌=rut (this kanji is usually used in railroad terms) (I have no interpretations for this name)

透=transparent (I’m not entirely sure with this one either. maybe related to her abilities to make invisible (transparent) things visible?)

名取周一 (Natori Shuuichi)

名=name; 取= to take/get/have/earn. (the themes with his character, especially in his backstory chapters, of trying to create an identity for himself, reviving the family name of his fallen clan, searching for his own way of living. he’s also made a name for himself by being famous in both the “normal” human world as a celebrity and in the exorcist community)

周=circumference, lap, circuit; 一=one (these kanji switched around spell 一周 (i’shuu), which means “a circuit/revolution/turn”. likely a reference to his role in the narrative as a character foil to Natsume, being a sort of older, alternate version of him (so like, “Round 1”))

的場静司 (Matoba Seiji)

的=mark, target; 場=location (his main symbol is literally an archery target. 的 can be used with other kanji to mean “goal or purpose”. 場 can be used with other kanji to mean “situation” or “opportunity”. These fit with his ambitious and goal-oriented nature, and his archery skills)

静=quiet, calm; 司=director (used in many words used to describe a leader or someone in charge) (basically “calm leader”. he’s the cool and calculating head of the exorcist community)

七瀬 (Nanase)

七= seven; 瀬=shallows, rapids, current, shoal (I don’t have any interpretations for this. There is the connection of the youkai/exorcist/shiki she met as a child who was a piece of jade from the river, though it should be noted her backstory was anime only and not from the manga. we do not know her given name)

柊 (Hiiragi)

(a type of holly. it has traditionally been used to ward off demons, and is still planted today to protect homes from evil spirits and even burglars, due to the leaves being painfully spiky. this fits very well with Hiiragi’s background of being tied to a storehouse to protect it from intruders. she is an exorcist’s familiar, which means it is her job to protect people from malicious spirits)

瓜姫 (Urihime)

瓜=gourd; 姫=princess (Natori named her after the crow’s gourd vines he found her entangled in)

笹後 (Sasago)

笹=bamboo; 後=behind, after (we don’t know her backstory, but my theory is Natori found her in a bamboo grove and named her the way he named Urihime)

(okay from here on out there might not be noticeable significant meanings for the names but I’m listing them all anyway)

藤原塔子 (Fujiwara Touko)

藤=wisteria; 原= meadow

塔=pagoda; 子=child

藤原滋 (Fujiwara Shigeru)

滋=nourishing

北本篤史 (Kitamoto Atsushi)

北=north; 本=true

篤=fervent; 史=history

西村悟 (Nishimura Satoru)

西=west; 村=village

悟=enlightenment

笹田純 (Sasada Jun)

笹=bamboo; 田=field

純=innocent, pure, genuine

ヒノエ (Hinoe)

no kanji!

三篠 (Misuzu)

三=three; 篠=bamboo grass (note: “suzu” is also the pronunciation for 鈴, which means “bell”)

紅峰 (Benio)

紅=crimson; 峰=summit, peak, ridge, back of a blade

柴田克己 (Shibata Katsumi)

柴=brushwood, firewood; 田=field

克=overcome; 己=self (Shibata is determined to overcome his past behavior and reaches out to Natsume)

Anyone else who’s familiar with Japanese and kanji, feel free to add on/comment/correct!

[rawmeknockout]

LL crew reacting to figuring out Bot! Reader used to do porn?

Rodimus

Hot, hot, hot. He’s blazing hot and now he might open up a position for personal assistant, because isn’t that a cliche from every bot’s dreams? He might have the full line of your work saved on his personal computer. In fact, he definitely does and he’s not ashamed to say it. Okay, he’s a little ashamed because you are working for him and technically he shouldn’t be thinking about you that way. Now, instead of a bureaucratic pencil-pusher, you seem like a regular mech with a regular past! It makes you more approachable to him. He has newfound respect.

Ultra Magnus

It’s really none of his business. You’re a good crew member and a much-needed asset to the ship. Your report on ways to increase team-building among reluctant coworkers almost made him cry with relief, so it’s not like he is going to fire you or judge you for this. In fact, he shouldn’t even know! That is your business! But maybe one lonely night he goes searching for it, out of curiousity, and does anyone really have to know that he did? Of course, he feels incredibly guilty. You’re a good friend, a reliable ally, and your intake can do things he’s only ever dreamed of. 

Megatron

He’s used to working with mechs of all backgrounds, so it hardly fazes him to learn this about you. Every type of mech could be a Decepticon. You’re still an attractive mech and were probably very sought after in your youth, so it doesn’t surprise him that you used the chance to make some cash. He scoffs at the way Autobots are still so prudish about these things. TLDR: doesn’t care, didn’t ask, plus his meat is huge.

Ratchet

Self-servicing is perfectly healthy and a regular part of any mech’s routine. Sure, some bots are bashful about the work that others engage in, but Ratchet really can’t judge. He’s seen and done some shit, too. And if he has watched some of your previous videos just to get a feel for your flexibility, well... Fuck it, he’s jerked it to you, too.

Drift

Like Megatron, he’s not exactly fazed. He’s more... elated? Autobots can be hard for him to connect with, but you two may share more in common than he thought. He’s not as interested in your previous videos as some other mechs, but that doesn’t mean he won’t go looking for him. Debates with himself about whether that’s disrespectful of you or not. He figures if you don’t think your previous employment is a big deal, then he doesn’t either. Drift jerks it to your videos more than he would like to admit.

Whirl

Not really his cup of tea. You’re hot and all, but he’s into more freak shit. If you’ve ever fucked around with someone’s optic socket, let him know. That’s the weird shit he’s into.

Cyclonus

Doesn’t see you any differently really. Sure, he may look up your videos out of curiosity, he thought about hitting you up before he confessed to Tailgate, but that doesn’t change who you are as a friend and crew mate. Maybe you’ll be willing to still fuck around in a threesome, but he hasn’t quite gotten around to asking Tailgate if that’s something he would be interested in.

Tailgate

As far as he’s concerned, that just makes the view from the first-floor level even more lewd. When he looks up at you he sees a friend, comrade, and someone who’s legs can stretch so far behind their helm. He’s going to need a few days to get over the heat in his systems.

Rewind

He knew he recognized you from somewhere. You’ve changed your armor, though, and some of your kibble so he wasn’t sure. He even has some of the videos that were exclusive releases and were harder to find. Luckily, you still have a pretty loyal fanbase. A cult following of porn fans, if you will. And Rewind has all the recordings. He’s an archivist, it’s his job! If he shares his porn findings with his conjunx, that’s just one of the perks Chromedome gets for marrying an archivist.

Chromedome

He wasn’t going to look your work up at all. You’re an adult and while it’s totally acceptable and you don’t seem to mind, Chromedome doesn’t want to push any boundaries you might have. You probably don’t want all your crewmates knowing what your valve looks like. But then he and Rewind were fucking around, and Rewind pulled out his collection of your work, and the night just got away from him.

Rung

You’ve been open with him from the start about your history. There’s no secrets between you and Rung, because you two have become the best of friends. Rung doesn’t really go searching for it but he happens upon a gif on a social media site and it feels sort of like cheering on his best friend to get some dick. He wants the best for you, whatever will make you happy, and it’s not that he finds you unattractive! It’s just strange watching a past version of you going buck wild. He’s proud of you, though! You’ve cultivated quite the fanbase.

Swerve

He’s more into Earth content, of course. Not that he doesn’t also watch porn with bots, it’s just not his preference. But you have been so nice to him and friendly and the way your servos feel on his shoulder tires has him feeling a type of way. So he looks up your videos and one thing leads to another and he’s wiped out on his berth contemplating what has led him to a night of five overloads back to back.

Velocity

She’s not chill about it. You’re so pretty and nice and knowing there’s naughty content just a click away. She holds off as long as she can until she feels guilty enough to ask you if it would be weird if she looked up your old videos. After the go ahead, she has to admit you are a great actor. The camera loves you! So does her spike.

First Aid

He already knew who you were. Delphi was a cold, lonely, out of the way place. When he had free time, First Aid didn’t exactly spend it commiserating or doing jigsaw puzzles. He has furiously beat his meat to you and is part of your loyal fanbase. He doesn’t let on he knows, though, or is a fan. That just feels like a bit too much. Will fight anyone who talks shit about you.

Brainstorm

Will outright tell you he’s now a fan and loves your previous work. Not so pompous as to imply he wants a live demonstration, but he does lay on the praise pretty thick. You two have some friendly banter over it, and Brainstorm doesn’t mean any harm. You even sign a copy of one of your softcore posters for him. Stormy replies well to your back-and-forth, and it brings you two a little closer.

Nautica

She is looking 👀 respectfully! She’s not usually a fan of most porn videos, because they’re over-produced and fake. They just don’t give her the right feeling! But when it’s you she feels more at ease. Like you’re on screen just for her and putting on a personal show. There’s nothing respectful about the way she’s obsessed with your aft.

Perceptor

Has a pretty wild past, too, so he’s not fazed. It’s not like it affects who you are or what you do, especially not so long after you’ve done it. There’s really no use for him to go looking for your videos. If he’s interested in you, well... He can just go ask to see the real thing. 👁👁