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Broke: Good Omens isn't a gay love story because Crowley and Aziraphale aren't in love
Woke: Good Omens is a gay love story because Crowley and Aziraphale are in love
Bespoke: Whether Good Omens is a gay love story or not is debatable; it is, however, undeniably a story of the love between Crowley and Aziraphale (whatever type of love that may be)
Neil Gaiman: Good Omens isn't a gay love story because while Crowley and Aziraphale are in love, they are not human males, they are an angel and a demon
no idea how it came up, but my programming prof was talking about his friend who works for Nintendo Japan who’s secondary role is The Loud American, and my prof explained what that was and how it came about
see, in Japan you do not talk back to your boss. you just don’t, even if they have stupid ideas and want the company to act on them. Like Nissan did sometime back. But since the other employees couldn’t do anything about this terrible idea that would ruin the company, they called in an American who had no reservations about telling the boss that their stupid idea was a stupid idea
and that’s just become a role in Japanese businesses, where they keep an American on staff who plays up the American stereotype and tells the boss what the Japanese employees can’t or won’t out of societal norms
“Profits you think will start soaring high, but be wary my friend because your dream is a lie. Invest in this product and knowing our luck, our stocks will all crash! It’s stupid as fuck!~”
Cw for uuhhhhh... childhood curiosity about bodies that takes a distinctly kinky turn as the characters get older? Sort of non-sexual but also sort of sexual kink?
Also generally cloneshipping (incest or pseudo-incest?), oral fixation, breastfeeding kink (but no actual lactation)
Back on my bullshit about clones being fascinated by the idea of breastfeeding, since they (obviously) don't have a mother and therefore were never breastfed. They were probably bottle-fed by nurse droids or something. Maaaybe the later batches were bottle fed by older brothers after the kaminoans learned that being held is important to human infants' mental development?
But like- clones having no idea breastfeeding was a thing until it came up in a biology class or something. Maybe it's briefly touched on in one of the medics' classes. (I don't imagine the kaminoans teach them much that isn't directly related to war.)
There are no families in their city, no babies being born to mothers who the clones would see breastfeeding. They learn about it as a biological process, and- it's weird.
It's weird to know that that's something human infants are supposed to get, but they didn't. Their younger brothers being decanted now aren't getting it. Do they feel like they were cheated out of yet another experience that natborns get? Or do they think breastfeeding is kriffing weird and gross and they dodged a bullet?
Tweens in medic training wondering if, since being bottle-fed by non-droids is good for the tubies, maybe they would benefit from being held against a bare chest and sucking on a nipple, even if nothing is coming out?
And when they give it a try (secretly, because they weren't told to do this, so who knows how the longnecks would react), it does seem to help! The tubies seem happier and calmer when they get a bottle and a nipple, than when it's just a bottle. And it's soothing for them too, nursing their baby brothers.
And one of those tween clones starts wondering what it's like, what they missed out on. They're embarrassed to admit it, to say they want something they haven't been offered, something the other brothers don't seem hung up on like they are, but eventually they confide in a sympathetic squadmate about what they've been feeling.
And, well- that squadmate has already been nursing tubies, so nursing someone older doesn't seem too much weirder. They lay down together in a bunk, and it's awkward at first, and hard to figure out a position, and they're nervous, but once they start the tension drains quickly.
It's- comfortable. Comforting. For both of them. After a while, the medic shyly asks if they can switch, and their brother agrees, and- it's good. Soft skin under their fingers and a heartbeat beneath their ear, the warmth and darkness of huddling under a blanket in a bunk, the familiar scent exactly like their own, and the taste of skin, the feel of something in their mouth.
With millions of clones, they're not the only ones who explore like this. Not everyone tries it, and not everyone who does likes it enough to do it again. Most of the brothers who like it eventually grow out of it, but for some, it continues off and on for years.
When they hit puberty and erections are frequent and require only the barest provocation, the nature of the encounters- shifts. Not just cuddling and suckling, but rubbing, rocking, thrusting, and stroking. (It doesn't even feel like they're crossing a line by adding a sexual element to their relationship. Maybe there is no line. Maybe the line was crossed long ago.)
Suckling shifts from nipples, to fingers, to cocks, as they feed one another the only type of "milk" they can make. It becomes a favorite activity, nursing on one another's cocks, both in urgency to reach release and because- it's comforting, just like nursing at the breast.
As they get older and hormones settle, not every encounter turns sexual. Sometimes it's about release, but just as often it's about comfort, given and received.
Then the war comes. Death and destruction and planets saved and brothers lost. And maybe they're split up, different barracks or different ships, or even different battalions. They can't indulge like that anymore, and they learn to live without it.
But when they see each other again, it's the most natural thing in the world to fall into that again. Yes, there's sex. There's need, and desire, and a drive to prove and to celebrate their continued survival. But there's also comfort, especially after a hard battle, when brothers they fight alongside barely made it out, or didn't make it out.
They lay together in the darkness of a bunk, like they did when they were small, with the blankets pulled over their heads like they can block out the world, block out the war. Soft skin bears new scars, and the smell of blasterfire is inescapable, but some things never change: the taste of skin, the sensation of it slick and soft between their lips, the steady heartbeat in their ear saying "We're alive, we're alive, we're alive."
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