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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

Note

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #spoilers #pregnancy mention #should i do a part 2 of this?#dhampir baby part two?#fun fact im actually so scared of pregnancy it sounds like hell to me #so pregnancy/child fics are very interesting to write #personally #i'm getting through these asks slowly but surely #nine more to go!

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bunnywritesjunk · 1 year ago

Text

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You and König attend a holiday party.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI, vague racism, heat (omega verse)

Word count: 3.1k

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there. Smut.

A/n: Omg....Hi guys......it's me.....hey.......I am alive. This chapter is defiantly geared more towards my poc readers. Theres some angst that i'll revisit in a later chapter. Some comments are made. You'll see. Anyways, I can't promise I will be posting super consistently but I will definatly try to post more then I have been.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Five:

Your editor droned on about deadlines and writing engines as you ate some soup König got you earlier. You can hear the desperation through the computer screen. You'd be lying if you said you were listening. They'll get the pages when they get them, with you, no money. König sat on the couch waiting for your meeting to be done.

“I'll get the next chapter done, Frankie.” You said.

“You promise?” He was almost teary-eyed.

“Yes, I promise.”

You hung up and closed your laptop while sighing. You got up and walked over to your giant Alpha. You outstretched his arm, inviting you to cuddle. You obliged plopping yourself on his lap and resting your head on his chest. The November winds were seeping into the atmosphere slowly. You didn't mind. That meant the holidays were coming.

“The 141 is having an early holiday party. Everyone goes on leave one week into December, so we celebrate early. Would you like to go with me, Schatz?”

“Oh yes, that sounds lovely. When is it?” You asked delightedly.

“This weekend. It's a dressy event.”

The weekend was in four days. You haven't done your hair or dressed up in a while. You'd want a new dress for this especially with the cold, but you supposed you could make something work. As for your hair, it was time to hit up a YouTube tutorial for some ideas. König seemed to sense your internal struggle.

“We can go shopping today, I need a button-down shirt.”

“You don't have a button-down?” You asked a little amused.

“Never needed one.”

“Huh, well I also want to get my hair done. But, I've never been to a stylist here.” You started searching for braiders in the area, and to your surprise, there were some.

The prices were comparable to ones in the US so that gave you some comfort. König looked over your shoulder browsing the different styles along with you. Some he has seen and others he hasn't. He chimed in with some styles he thought would look cute on you every so often.

“Oh, she has an appointment available tomorrow.”

“Book it, I'll take you.”

“I can take myself it's alright.”

“Nein. I'll take you.”

You grumbled a bit at his stubbornness but gave in. You booked the appointment and placed your deposit.

“How much is it?” König asked.

“Um, all together with the deposit, one hundred fifty euros. I was also gonna tip but I forgot Europe doesn't do that.”

König replied with a 'hmm' and tapped away on his phone. Your phone dinged and you checked the notification.

'König has sent you € 150,00'

“Kö, You don't have to pay for this.”

“Why shouldn't I? You are mine, You want it, I like it when you look beautiful, so I pay.” He said simply.

König had a habit of paying for everything. You liked it but it made you a little uncomfortable. This wasn't how you'd be treated back in the States. Whenever you mentioned it, König would always rant about how American men were cheap and lazy. He also would mention how he has more money than he needs so spending it on you is fun. König loves to see your little face light up whenever he buys you something sweet, or a piece of jewelry you were looking at. He told you to get dressed for the shopping trip and you obliged, making sure you were bundled up for the cold weather.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you opted to shop for König's clothes first. Finding clothing that fits him nicely is a challenge with how tall and muscular he is. There were some stores specifically made for big and tall men that you went into first. One store only had bright floral patterned shirts and loosely fitting dress pants. Neither you nor your Alpha liked that. The next one had some nice boots in his size. They were a fancier version of combat boots. Finally, you found a simple black button-down shirt and slim tapered dress pants for him. You made him try it on before leaving the store.

My god...You had to keep yourself from drooling. The pants hugged his waist perfectly, and the shirt was just tight enough for you to see some muscle peeking through. König smirked at your reaction.

“You think this will look good with my sniper hood?” he asked.

“What?! You're gonna wear your hood and cover-up that gorgeous face? No way.”

“I don't show my face to anyone on base, Schatz.”

“Hmm, well you look good in anything so... I guess.” You pouted.

König got dressed and paid for his clothes. Nearby there were a few boutiques with dresses. You wanted something nice, but not too fancy. You didn't want to overdress. König was patient with you as you browsed a bunch of stores. Eventually, you found something you liked. It was a midi deep purple knit dress. It had elegant sleeves and looked like it could be dressed up or down. Perfect for a cold night. König sat on the bench of the fitting room as you tried it on. You came out and twirled giving him a full view of the dress.

“So?” You asked.

“Beautiful.” He motioned for you to come closer. When you did he placed a hand on your hip gingerly.

“I can think of many things I could do to you in this dress.” He said quietly.

“König!” You gave him a light slap on the arm and went back into the changing room embarrassed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day you started prepping for your hair appointment. You had to wash your hair but the stylist said she could blow-dry it for you. You spent about an hour washing your hair and another detangling it. König kept you company on the couch as you combed and sectioned it out. You sighed and slumped on the couch once you were done. Your arms were a little sore but you were glad you were done. You put your bonnet on to keep your hair neat and moisturized. You made sure you had your tip ready and a book to read while you got your hair done. König stood at the door watching you pace around the apartment gathering your things.

The drive to the salon was quick and smooth. König gave you a kiss on the cheek before you exited the car. You opened the door to the building, and the smell of hair spray wafted into your nose. A tall woman greeted you as you walked in. Her hair was braided back into neat rows and her dark cheeks had a warm glow to them.

“Are you my twelve pm?” She asked with a smile.

“Yes, I am, nice to meet you.”

She guided you into a salon chair and got started. Her hands were quick, skilled, and gentle as she worked her way through your head of hair. In about two hours she finished. You admired your new do in the mirror and thanked your stylist profusely. König waited at a café down the street. You spotted him sitting peacefully at one of the outdoor tables, away from most other patrons. As you got closer he glanced up to meet and look at you. His eyes widened, taking in your new look. Although he had his mask on you could tell he was smiling under it. He stood up to greet you.

“You look beautiful, Liebe.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead careful to avoid touching your freshly done hair. You giggled bashfully and returned his kiss on his cheek.

The next few days went by quickly. You did some extra work and scheduled an editor meeting before the weekend. When Saturday rolled around, you were anxious. You wanted to make a good impression with your Alpha's coworkers. How do you act around military personnel? Your father never brought you around any of his military friends. As you got ready you just tried to keep an open mind and stay confident in yourself. Also, you will get to see Soap again. You slipped on your dress and spritzed a light mist of perfume.

You walked out of your room while looking through your purse to make sure you had all of your essentials. König was sitting on the couch but stood when he saw you. He was dressed and ready, looking over your form affectionately. You zipped around the dining room and kitchen making sure you had everything in order. König walked over to you, stopping you in your path. He slinked his hand around your waist pulling you out of your thoughts. He pulled you into his chest gently.

“Relax, Schatz.” He purred. You looked up at him and gave him a nervous smile.

“I think I left my wallet in my room. Do I need it? Should I bring a gift?” You rambled.

König pulled your wallet out from his back pocket and handed it to you. He shook his head and gave you a small smile. His sniper hood was hanging haphazardly over a dining room chair. He led you towards the door swiftly grabbing it and opening the door. You followed him out reluctantly.

The drive to the base was uneventful aside from your occasional worrying that was quelled by your alpha quickly. You can't help but feel more on edge than you usually would, but you can't put a finger on why. König pulled up to the massive, barbed wire-lined fence. A man in full military gear and a large gun strolled up to the window. You hadn't noticed that König out his hood in a while back. He rolled the window down and quickly flashed his ID to the soldier. The man nodded and waved his hand in the air. The gate slid open almost painfully slowly. König placed a hand on your thigh as he drove slowly through the base. It helped calm you for the time being.

There was a large building with a few dozen cars parked outside. König Parked the SUV rather haphazardly a good distance away from the entrance. When you opened the door you heard faint music coming from the building and lots of voices and laughter. Your alpha lapped the car and met you on the passenger side. You started to walk towards the door but he stopped you.

“What is the matter, Schatz?” His eyes softly gazed down at you.

“Nothing is wrong, I'm fine.” You said quickly.

“If you are uncomfortable, we can go.” He gently caressed your cheek., his scent enveloping your senses.

“I'm ok, I'm just a little nervous.” Deep down you knew something was off, but you were confident you could get through this night.

“Shcatz, You forgot your collar.” König said nonchalantly.

You gasped and your hand flew up to your neck covering your exposed scent glands.

“Oh no! Why didn't you tell me? Now I'm gonna stink up a storm in there.” You turned around embarrassed and even more on edge.

Your Alpha said nothing, he simply opened the back door of the car and pulled out a small black bag before closing the door. He spun you around by the waist to face him waving the bag in front of you. You glanced at him unsure before taking the bag. König gave you a small nod waiting for you to open it. Inside was a large square jewelry box. When you opened it it held the most beautiful gold metal collar. The one you looked at from the boutique a while ago.

“König....” You truly didn't know what to say. Tears pricked your eyes but you quickly wiped them away and replaced them with a smile.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You said while wrapping your arms around his middle.

He held you close and kissed the top of your head through his hood gently. He pulled away and took the collar out of its box. He clasped it around your neck locking it with the provided key. It fit perfectly, you could barely tell it was there. König held the small key out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Keep it safe for me Alpha.” You said giving him a warm smile.

Although you couldn't see his face, you could tell he was happy you trusted him with the key. König held out his elbow for you to hold and led you towards the event. You were still nervous but you brushed it off, you had someone there to protect you. The large hall was buzzing with conversation. Most people were sitting around in large groups having conversations and others were at the bar. There were string lights hung all around the ceiling giving the place a relaxing atmosphere. König led you to the bar eager to get a drink. Parties are not you or your Alpha's natural element.

He ordered a beer for himself and a gin and tonic for you. As you waited you glanced around taking in the different people. You were probably one of the very few omegas. You could tell who was military and who wasn't very easily. Some were still in uniform, others wore masks or dog tags. Some soldiers brought a plus one but it was a minority. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. You turned to see a familiar mohawk.

“Hey! There they are!” Soap exclaimed pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. You could smell the alcohol on him.

“Hey, soap.” You eked out while being squeezed.

Soap turned to König and gave the large Apex a hug as well. König grunted, a little uncomfortable with the contact but patted his back affectionately.

“We've been waiting for you two to get here, everyone wants to meet the Colonel's Mrs.” His Scottish accent was thick and slightly slurred.

The bartender set your drinks down and you quickly scooped yours up and took a sip. Soap led both of you away toward a group of men. You lingered behind König slightly allowing him to greet the group first. Soap announced your name loudly sparing König of the burden. You waved shyly giving everyone a small smile. Everyone greeted you and your Alpha before returning to the conversation they were having. You were grateful the attention on you didn't last as you could sip your cocktail and listen to the drunken ramblings of the soldiers.

As the night dragged on, you met various people. You chatted with Ghost a bit and met Captain Price, as well as Gaz. Though the drunker people go the more rowdy things become. You sat on a chair near the group, only on your second drink. Your Alpha was loosening up after four. Soap suggested they go out to the field and play football, challenging Ghost to a team match. The whole group along with some others from the party joined them outside. König glanced over at you.

“Will you be ok if I join them?” He asked gingerly.

“Of course, go have fun.” You gave him a reassuring smile.

You watched him follow his coworkers out of the door into the frigid night. You decided to hang out at the bar as your drink was almost done. Although the night has been fine so far there was still something nagging in the back of your head. You plopped down on one of the bar stools and ordered another drink. Good thing this event had an open bar. You scrolled on your phone for a while not noticing how fast an hour has passed. An Alpha sat on the bar stool next to yours sighing loudly. You didn't bother acknowledging him as many people have sat there in the time that has passed.

“It's a nice night huh? Not too cold.” The guy said in a European accent you can't place.

You looked up from your phone. “Oh, are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, I am. So uh, are you a new recruit or?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no, I'm just a visitor.” You glanced back at your phone hoping he would leave you alone.

“I've never seen an omega like you.”

“An omega like me?” You looked at him puzzled.

“Yeah, you're so exotic. I thought omegas like you have to stay in your own countries.” He said while taking a sip of his drink.

“Well, that's rude and extremely ignorant.” You scowled at him.

“Come on, it's a compliment. I mean I knew your kind your be spicy but damn.” He chuckled.

You took that as your cue to leave. And you stood up from the bar your felt a tug on the crown of your head.

“I mean, is this even your real hair?” He rubbed the hair he grabbed in between his fingers.

You ripped away from his grip. “What is wrong with you?! Don't touch me!” You yelled. Everyone at the bar turned to look in your direction.

“Relax, I'm just joking around.” The Alpha said trying to diffuse the situation.

“You don't touch a random person's hair, who raised you?!”

You felt a hand rest on your shoulder gently from behind. The Alpha you were confronting turned pale.

“Schatz? What did he do?” Your Alpha asked lowly.

You turned to face König anger still written all over your face. As angry as you were, you wanted this to be a teaching moment for this young Alpha. You turned back to the Alpha who was standing up now sweat forming on his face.

“Nothing Alpha, this guy just needs to watch where he's going, right?” You eyed him carefully.

“Yes! Yes, I'm very sorry miss.” He looked down at your feet.

You looked up at König who seemed unconvinced. He was staring daggers into the young Alpha. You saw König take a deep breath closing his eyes while doing so. When he opened them he looked down at you.

“Time to go, it's a long drive home.” He placed a hand on the small of your back and led you out.

Some people glanced in your direction as you left. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You hurried to the car in an effort to get out of the cold. König opened your door for you and helped you slide into the passenger seat.

“I forgot something inside, I'll be right back.” He said quickly shutting the door and storming back inside the building.

You couldn't tell if he was about to torture that soldier or not. But you did what you could, if he gets in trouble it's his own fault. König came back out no more than two minutes later. As he started the car, you got cozy relishing in the heated air.

“What did you forget?” You ask him.

“I had a project for Ghost, I had to tell him about it.”

“Hmm.” You responded, not buying it completely.

As your Alpha drove, the gentle rocking of the car lulled you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

König shook you awake gently. “We're home.”

You stirred and sat up stretching gently. You felt warm, a little too warm. Did you drink that much? You followed König into the apartment and kicked off your shoes at the door. That's when the cramp hit you. It was so painful it made you dizzy causing you to stumble. König caught you by the arm and ushered you to the couch.

“Schatz? You're burning up.” He laid you down and hurried to the kitchen.

You felt the sweat forming on your brow. Your heat had come early. You whined into the couch cushions trying to breathe through the dull achy pain. König brought some water and sat you up to drink.

“Why didn't you tell me your heat was coming?” he said concerned.

“Early...it came early.”

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#konig fluff #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x you #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig #alpha könig x reader #alpha könig #alpha konig #alpha/beta/omega au #könig mw2 #cod mwii #könig x reader #könig cod

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asukaskerian · 5 months ago

Text

bleach daemon AU - outside POV on harribel

so a couple centuries (5 years) ago i asked for prompts for this (grimmichi) verse. most of them are still languishing in my file.

but then i was prodding at the fullbringers arc and i was like "lol i could add some yakuzas" because, lol, in the last fic of that series there's an outsider pov on a yakuza. (he thinks ichigo is an oyabun's young heir and grimmjow is his hitman bodyguard. it's hilarious.) and then this ficlet was like "i will be short to complete and then, having gotten back into the yakuza oc mindset, you can go back to the multipart!" (it was a lie) but anyway.

anonymous asked: In the Grimmichi Daemonverse, could you have Nel and/or Harribel come try out the daemon thing? Then Ichigo could be seen hanging out not only with his hot yakuza boyfriend but also with hot dangerous-looking women, like he's slowly growing his harem :)

it alas did not end up looking like a harem. but, lol anyway.

Jin's daemon Rin is a snake i forget which kind and Yamatora's daemon Queen is a little terrier dog. Grimmjow's panther is Leucanthe and Ichigo's lioness is Rikuto. Oh and some of Grimmjow's fraccion survived and are hanging around in gigai too.

Times were, Jin and Rin liked it when the big boss's eyes fell on them and he said things like, "ah, I can entrust you with that thing". Felt important, like understanding, like respect.

Now Rin coils tighter around his neck and resists the urge to sigh.

"Urahara-dono, sir?"

The boss nods slowly. "You're good with the weird," his daemon says.

Jin does not feel very complimented.

"Take your newbie with you. Urahara-dono's heir knows him, doesn't he?"

Urahara-dono's heir regards Jin's trainee the way one regards a dumb, hapless chicken in a field full of foxes and tiger pits -- with vague, despairing concern. It's, Jin supposes, not the worst thing. He could be regarding him like a newly powerful man regards the punk who used to try to beat him up behind the grocery store.

Jin supposes the operative word here is "try".

"Yes, sir," he replies, dutiful if not enthused.

"Oh, and I'm sending Matsuoka too. He's got to get used to dealing with Urahara-dono's cohort if he wants to get anywhere as an underboss," the big boss mutters, and Jin feels very briefly doomed.

Matsuoka-san is a very new underboss; a modern, ambitious type. His daemon is a falcon -- observant, wary, viciously fast to attack. He comes from a sister family to the Kishiume and he has a great many fresh ideas to revolutionize the criminal underworld.

He also has no fucking clue why the big boss went so far as to meet with some unkempt undercover-as-a-shopkeeper guy with no bonds of brotherhood to any other family when as far as anybody can tell he has twenty men tops and isn't trading out any weapons or sellable shit.

He'll learn, Jin knows.

"Or he'll get dead," Rin mutters. Jin doesn't even bother huffing his reaction.

"What'd you say, Rin-san?" Queen asks solicitously, craning her neck to catch a glimpse.

"Nothing of importance. Turn left at the next crossroads."

They turn left. Yamatora is humming nervously, fingers tapping the wheel, but he's a surprisingly good driver. He maintains his speed with machine-like precision and uses his turn signal religiously. They're not going to get pulled over today, no matter how completely suspicious the semi-trailer truck is, driving through narrow suburb streets as it is.

Inside there's a giant tub of water and a rigged-together bunch of sprinklers and some pulley system for a stretcher. Jin officially does not want to even wonder.

Matsuoka-san is following them in his sports car. If anybody gets them stopped today he will.

They get to the Urahara shop; park the truck on the stretch of beaten earth before its front door. Step out of the truck. The front steps are home to three men -- two of them massive and well-muscled, the last whipcord-thin and playing with something that shines in the sunlight. Jin does not want to take a single step closer to them. They bother him the same way Kurosaki-san's bodyguard bothers him -- something crazy in the gleam of their grinning teeth. He goes anyway.

He lets Matsuoka-san go first, though. It isn't his place to tell the underboss to be careful of bottom-rung flunkies.

"Tell your boss the Kishiume envoys are here," Matsuoka-san starts with, his falcon mantling her wings pointedly. Rin hisses quietly, winds herself tighter. Queen briefly cowers behind Tora's legs, and then wanders out to swagger awkwardly as they try to provide backup.

The three men stare back for a long couple of seconds, and then the scrawny one with the fat lizard laughs, like they have an inside joke and it's on Matsuoka-san.

"Be polite," the red-haired one chides mildly, his baboon smiling in a too-human way for fangs that size. "Go get him."

"Yeah, yeah," the scrawny guy goes, standing up, and disappears indoors, daemon wrapped around his shoulders like a yellow-and-black scarf. The sliding door snaps closed behind him as he stomps on wooden boards loud enough to be heard from outside.

The guy who emerges isn't Urahara-dono. It's the crazy panther guy.

The panther slinks out of the door first, casually brushing against the last guy's warthog, and on her heels comes the man, loose-limbed and his eyelids heavy, unimpressed. He scans their trio and says nothing to Matsuoka-san, visibly at the head of it, stares at Jin himself for a second longer. Nods, to him and not to the underboss.

"I remember you."

That is... not something Jin knows whether to appreciate or not, but he nods back, expressionless.

The panther sits, licks her paw with casual unconcern. "Thanks for last time. We had fun."

Yamatora blinks dumbly. "Oh, at the p--" Jin elbows him. The hitman smirks.

And they've officially reached the end of Matsuoka-san's patience. Daemon fluffing up her feathers in annoyance, he takes a step forward. "I asked to see your boss. Where is he."

An arctic-blue look spears him right back. "No, you asked for their boss. That's me."

... Oh, hell. This is now a pissing contest. Jin knew it. He doesn't even know who to bet on; Matsuoka-san has a gun and a lot of rage, but the hitman is... The vibes. No. His panther is just going to leap and pluck the falcon right out of the air before anyone can even throw a punch, how can Matsuoka-san not see that?

Also how the hell does it work? Kurosaki-san is training under Urahara-dono, so how--

"Grimmjow, what the hell -- oh, you guys are here! Awesome."

And Kurosaki-san's daemon is now peeking out of the door, sans her human, looking as innocently curious as a black lioness can possibly be. She doesn't pad out, likely not wanting to strain her bond; instead she just... stares at Queen, and blinks myopically, and goes "Oh, hey, I know you. I think? Hi."

"I'm Queen!" Queen yaps, bristled in offense. "Queen and Yamatora!"

"Oh right! Taroyama. Yeah. I remember. Anyway!"

Tora and his daemon are suffocating with spluttery offense. Rin and Jin would be offended too if they thought Kurosaki-san actively meant to be offensive, but the fact of the matter is that she just doesn't seem to care enough to be deliberate.

They're not sure if she meant to utterly ignore Matsuoka-san to start with, but when his daemon starts angling out her wings like she plans to dive and strike, they know it's not gonna matter in the long run.

Kurosaki-san turns her heavy head up to the falcon, nods, expression a little more reserved. "Kishiume-sama's representative, huh? I'm Kurosaki Rikuto. Thanks for coming, we appreciate it."

"Do you," Matsuoka-san says back, jaw clenched. "Greeting us with disrespectful little punks, and then with half of you--"

The way the black jaguar slowly moves to stand between him and the lioness says nothing good. "I'm sure he couldn't help it," Jin says before the hitman can open his mouth and shoot something really impolitic right back.

"Yeah, he's -- ow, fuck." The lioness shakes her head, as if hurt; from inside the shop comes a muffled, "Grimmjow! Can someone come help me hold her down?!"

"Leu?" the lioness asks, and the panther groans.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Kanchana, you and Edrad are in charge. You guys know what we need."

The hitman and his daemon amble back inside without another word. Fuming, Matsuoka-san hisses between his teeth, daemon with her feathers all puffed up.

The redhead with the baboon stands, a faint smirk on his face that could pass for apologetic in the right light. "Alright. Sorry for this. Things have been a bit chaotic this morning. It should go much smoother now that you and your men are here to assist. That the trailer? Can I check it out?"

At Edrad's instructions, they've turned the truck and the trailer around to back it against the front door. Matsuoka-san has been gritting his teeth over not being invited inside for the whole ten minutes it took, and Jin and Rin have been standing next to the big, silent one and his warthog in mutual, warily respectful quiet for just as long as the blond brat with the lizard pops in and out of a window to the side of the building to relay informations.

"Who do you think they were holding down?" Tora whispers in his other ear. "The journalist?"

"The journalist was months ago. It'd be over with by now."

Matsuoka-san narrows his eyes, as if he wants to ask for the story but knows better than to do it in a yard where everyone comes and goes. "Or they were giving us a half-assed excuse not to greet us properly. Who the fuck does that kind of business in the same rooms they receive people--"

From the shop comes a sudden, ragged scream; a woman's scream, raw and gut-deep. The three of them tense, Tora's eyes going wide. The big man beside them blinks down at them placidly.

"--Okay, who the fuck does that kind of business somewhere they can be heard from the street?"

Inside they can hear a mad scramble of feet approaching through the shop; the screams die down into gasps even as they get closer and -- bumps and thuds, feet, the trailer swaying under the growing weight of... they can see nothing, the trailer parked so damn close and the big man standing there blocking the hair-thin gap between it and the door. The paper squares of the screen are opaque and the light is stronger outside and Jin can see nothing but shadows.

Rin sees a lot of warm spots moving around, but that doesn't say much more.

"What... What do you think she did?" Queen whispers from Tora's arms, quaking just barely. Rin strikes at her nose, annoyed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it doesn't matter what she did, or her lover did, it's not your business."

Their only job is to assist with transport. Transport of a screaming woman who needed to be held down, in a trailer with a tank of water more than big enough to submerge someone. Yeah, it's gonna be a right dirty job.

But Urahara-dono asked for that favor, to pay back some favor he did the boss a way back that's been hanging over his head for years. Here they are and that's it.

He hopes being asked to take the fall isn't going to be part of it. Surely the boss would have warned them. Or he would have given Jin and Rin someone else than Tora and Queen. Right now all they can do that isn't drive the truck and beat up people is provide a convenient corpse, and ... No, Jin didn't get that vibe. Which is good because he got kind of used to Tora's dependable stupidity.

They get asked to deliver the trailer to a secret address.

The address is a beach. A craggy little thing tucked between two cliffs, pebbles instead of sand with big splashing waves and a quick drop toward the depths. A great place to dump corpses.

Maneuvering the trailer down that beach is a six-person job; the two big henchmen, the blue-haired hitman, Kurosaki-san, and Jin and Tora themselves. It's heavy, and the slope is pronounced.

The water inside keeps splashing out, even though the thing inside seems to be doing its best not to move.

The waves lap at their legs, ankles first and then thighs. It's cold. Not a season for swimming. Kurosaki gets slapped in the face by a wave and huffs. "Ugh. Okay -- okay, a bit more. Harribel-san?"

Then the trailer shifts and bobs, half-carried by the waves, and unlocks from the inside.

The loading ramp flops down, slapping the water. A woman emerges to stand on the threshold.

Jin stops breathing.

He hopes he's being discreet. He hopes she doesn't notice he exists.

"Holy shiiit, babe alert," Tora whispers, and from her perch across his shoulder Queen perks up, scanning her shoulders and around her legs for the daemon. Rin strikes out without a thought, hitting Queen's flank with her snout and stopping herself from sinking in her fangs at the very last second. Does he want to get them all fucking killed?!

Queen yips in betrayed surprise. The woman's eyes glance over them. Jin stands very, very straight and mentally catalogs his weapons; he barely relaxes when she finally looks away.

"That is not someone's girlfriend," he hisses under his breath. Sure she's tanned and blonde like any gyaru from the clubs but if she's more than half Japanese he'll cut off his pinky on the spot. She's... something else.

Back on the shore Matsuoka-san and his daemon are bristled up like they're still working themselves up to snarling something. Time to take one for the team. The big boss had better be thankful.

"Your pardon, ma'am. Do you need any help to unload?"

Whatever it is inside there, that the men didn't let them see carry in. Whatever they're carrying in water (water daemon?) to a disposal area (screaming woman with cement shoes?) that they will no doubt see now unless they leave straight away, and Matsuoka-san won't. He feels too slighted to allow them the discretion.

She looks down at him from above and her eyes are depthless, suffocating.

"If she needs help it sure as fuck won't be yours," the hitman laughs. "Yo, Harribel, you vacationing up here?"

She doesn't answer the hitman's jeer; she looks at him for a second and then back at Jin, and her voice is low, husky. "I will manage. Step back onto the shore. Grimmjow, have Nakeem hold onto the hitch."

The hitman makes a permissive hand gesture and the man with the warthog obeys. Kurosaki-san herds everyone else out of the water in big splashing steps, and they're still ankle deep when the trailer rocks and something massive slips out.

Jin was keeping watch over his shoulder. He still barely has the time to see the long body slip down the ramp -- white belly, dark back, fins --

"Is that a shark?" Matsuoka-san chokes out.

"It's obviously a fucking tortoise," the hitman drawls back with unimpressed mockery. His panther is watching them and Jin doesn't like the cant of her ears one bit.

"He's a Great White, I'm pretty sure," Kurosaki interjects, and elbows the hitman in the ribs. At the other end of the trailer a splash resounds, the woman diving smoothly after her daemon.

They miraculously all shut up for a minute or two as they watch the dorsal fin cut through the waves. The woman doesn't resurface for -- pretty long.

"All good, Harribel-san?"

"Satisfactory," she replies, bobbing with the waves. The fin resurfaces, and a great deal of sleek shark back. "Wait a bit longer for the trailer."

It's bobbing on the waves, the henchman Nakeem still holding onto the chain to keep it from drifting away and sinking. Dragging it back upslope is going to be a chore and a half.

Getting the shark back into the rig--

How did they even get it inside the first time around? Does Urahara-dono have a seawater pool with a winch in the backroom of his shop? It's ridiculous. His shop looks so small. Even if there's a basement it would need a freight elevator--

Not his business, he reminds himself.

"Shouldn't we at least beach it, ma'am?"

The shark surfaces, much closer to the shore than he assumed it could get. The woman shakes her head, expressionless. "It's not safe yet."

--Ah?

Further away -- so far, how long is her tether, isn't that uncomfortable -- a fish jumps out of the waves. A dorsal fin follows. The shark was between her and the shore not a minute ago.

"Not... safe?"

The henchman with the baboon laughs in amused sympathy. "So he doesn't react badly if you scratch yourself on the frame and bleed. He might bite down before he's thought it through."

Queen whimpers. "Oh my god."

"He's been cooped up a while, is all! He'll be more sociable in a minute."

The panther grumbles, batting at the lapping waves. "Yeah well he'd better hurry up, cause I want to swim too."

"Seriously? It's cold as hell! You're a tropical cat!"

"You're a whiner."

"Oh, fuck off--"

"Shut the fuck up," Matsuoka-san snaps without warning. "The fuck kind of job is this? A vacation?"

Kurosaki scowls back, but half-heartedly, more chiding than insulted. The hitman props an elbow on his shoulder and snorts, a derisive half-smile floating on his face. Both cats turn to stare, then the panther rolls her eyes and goes back to aimlessly slapping at the waves. The lioness starts scratching her ear with a back paw.

"We didn't have a trailer big enough," Kurosaki-san says, patient but tired. "And you guys did. Nobody said it was life or death, you don't need to be so tense."

Tora slips Jin a look like he's asking if they need to back him up. Jin shakes his head no. They have twice as many people if this goes bad and Kurosaki-san is still attempting to deescalate; if Matsuoka-san wants a pissing contest it's probably not going to go further than a beatdown, which at this point he is asking for.

"Tense? The fuck do you mean?"

-- Unless the hitman gets involved --

"I mean tense like tense," Kurosaki-san snaps back, finally getting annoyed, "but if you want to hear it like scared that's not my business," but the hitman has already let his elbow slide off his shoulder, is already taking a gliding step forward--

"Grimmjow."

He stops.

Thigh-deep in the waves, the woman is staring, still expressionless.

"What," he growls back, head inclined toward her but still facing Matsuoka-san.

"Don't cause Urahara Kisuke problems."

"You're telling me you think his boss didn't send him here so we fix his attitude problem for him?"

Jin winces inwardly. Matsuoka-san gets shocked stupid, bird rearing back. Apparently he didn't have the first clue that his attitude needed adjusting and the concept is stalling his brain -- or maybe it's the matter-of-fact way they speak that hammers it in, like of course that's true, but it's nothing to get excited over, because he's just that unimportant, just that harmless.

"That doesn't matter. He didn't ask out loud. Let Urahara make the call."

"... Boring." The hitman gives Matsuoka-san a dismissive look and turns away.

Yamatora and Queen are staring, mouths open. "W-wait -- ah, miss -- lady -- are... you his boss?"

She walks up onto the beach, hair dripping. Her wetsuit follows every curve of her body, and they all spell predator. Jin wishes he had muzzled his rookie.

"He's on loan to Kurosaki Ichigo."

... Jin reorganizes his understanding of Urahara-dono's outfit in his head.

Is Grimmjow-san an underboss? Loaned with his whole team? Are they all crazy hitmen like he is? The man with the pig daemon is expressionless like somebody dead and the one with the baboon normal, friendly, and standing between them and the car and Jin didn't notice.

"Thanks," Kurosaki-san says drolly. "How do I give him back?"

"You don't," the hitman leers back. "I gotta be wrapped all special in a... Edrad, what's the word?" he asks leadingly.

"Body bag?"

The man smirks wider, fangy, flicking his fingers at his man. "That's it."

"I can arrange that," Kurosaki-san grouches. "Harribel-san, can I drown him a little? Is it okay now? I don't want to give your daemon indigestion--"

"The fuck he could eat us!" the panther yowls, incensed. "Fucking goldfish--"

Sighing, the woman nods her agreement to the lioness, who sidesweeps her human's legs with her own flank, sending him careening into the hitman, who trips over his own daemon, and they all end up knee deep in the waves, spluttering and hollering insults. The henchman with the baboon laughs.

"Harribel-sama. Anything you need?"

"No. Don't get into the water yet, you'll seem more edible."

"Oh, I had no intention, ma'am."

She comes to a stop before Matsuoka. Her daemon is so far from her, swimming laps at the entry to the cove, barely visible; she stands alone and barely seems to notice.

If he treats her like somebody's woman he is going to die. It looks like he does have some good sense behind the bluster, though, because he grits his teeth and says nothing and nods back when she does.

"Thank you for the ride. I won't be needing your help on the trip back. Edrad and Nakeem will help you get the trailer back and after that you may go."

... What?

"Convey my thanks to your head," she adds with another nod to the three of them, and then she turns right back toward the sea.

"But... How is she going home?" Tora asks plaintively.

Jin can only shrug.

Maybe there's a boat waiting out there. Maybe there's an oxygen bottle and a mask hidden somewhere in the rocks, and they will go out at sea and disappear that way. Maybe that is how she gets around usually and the inland side-trip was unplanned, a trap even; and he doesn't know and will never know, and he sure as hell will not ask.

Unless they fit inside a carry-on aquatic daemons are a disability for everyday life. Where do you live with them as a human; a barge? A cruise ship? Venice?

Where do you live that still lets you become a boss?

And how have they never heard of her?

He is so, so glad it's a question for his oyabun and not for him. He feels like knowing would shorten his lifespan considerably.

#asuka writes #daemon AU #bleach #harribel #grimmjow #kurosaki ichigo

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artist-issues · 10 months ago

Note

From one Christian to another, you seem like someone who stays true to your values, convenient or not, and that’s exactly what I need.

In short, what’s your stance on writing LGBTQ characters? Does including such characters normalize sin, or is it comparable to writing about any other flawed human? I’ve heard some say I could write such characters out of a sense of realism, but fiction is made up of a writer’s intentional choices, and I don’t think one can have those choices and not say something to the audience.

I’ve looked all over the internet for a definite answer to this, and most results are either vague or very permissive without any scriptural backing. Your thoughts?

I think your head is on good and straight!

I am not an expert on this but I'll give you my unprofessional opinion.

The truth is, sin is normal. I mean, it's normal in this world. We're living in a cursed, fallen world. So if you were going to write a story about wildlife in Africa, there'd be a place in the story for a zebra. Because zebras are normal... in Africa. You wouldn't have to be making a comment about zebras to include them in a story about Africa; they just naturally are in that setting.

When you're writing a story about this world, and humans, that same sense applies. There's a possibility for any and all sin to be mentioned in the story. Because that's normal in this world.

Now, I guess that wasn't always the case. Even ten years ago having a homosexual couple in your story would've been surprising, and you could've run the risk of "normalizing it," because of the low percentage of people identifying as homosexual. But now? With the social contagion and overwhelming popularity, especially in adolescents, of the very idea of gender-fluidity and open-ended attraction? You're not so much "normalizing it" anymore.

Everybody's talking about being LGBTQ+. Everybody's making a statement. The question is no longer "are you going to say something about it?" The question is kind of "WHAT are you going to say about it?" Even by leaving the topic out, if it's a story about modern day life in the West on Planet Earth, you're saying something by leaving it out.

(Note: if your story isn't on Planet Earth in the Modern ((and RECENT)) time period, and even if it isn't in the West, then I wouldn't put homosexuality in your story. I can elaborate on why if you'd like in a different ask.)

So I'm basically saying it's comparable to writing about any other flawed human. 😅

As for Scriptural basis, there's no verse that says "don't talk about homosexuality," --and talking about it is all that "telling a story which includes the topic" is.

For storytelling principles found in the Bible: Jesus put one guy choking another guy out over a debt into one of His stories. That was to illustrate the depravity of the guy who was forgiven of much, but wouldn't forgive his fellow man of a little.

So now I have two very important questions for you!

If you are going to put a homosexual couple in your story, why are they there?

You have to answer this question for every decision you make in a story...but with this, because you are putting a sin in your story, the important thing to note is that the culture we're in doesn't actually consider it a sin. So by putting the sin in the story at all, you're right, you have to say something about it. You have to say that it's good or it's bad.

Doesn't have to be super in-your-face. I mean, Kuzco's "sin" is that he's selfish. So in the first scene he insults a bunch of women. And they all react like he's a monster; one of them's crying, the other one's lunging at him, but it's all just in the background. The point of the scene is that he's funny but he's a jerk and he's selfish; and those traits, "jerk" and "selfish" are treated like they're bad things, not good things, about Kuzco. A good rule of thumb is "call what is good 'good,' and call what is bad ''bad."

2. And this is the really important one, from one Christian to another: why are you considering adding a homosexual couple to your story?

You don't have to answer me, but ask yourself that question super honestly and examine every possible reason. Of course it doesn't really apply if you're not writing a story, you're just wondering about it on principle.

More on the point: I think sometimes, Christians cover up some sins by not talking about them, and it's not out of a desire be self-controlled and careful with their words. It's out of a warped desire to appease the culture.

C.S. Lewis says something like this in Surprised By Joy. My understanding of him was, Christians in the 40s didn't want to ever talk about homosexuality because, to them, it seemed the worst of sins...but when you examined how they came to that conclusion, you realized that the only things that made homosexuality different from other sins was that, if you were discovered to be engaging in homosexual sin, you'd lose your job and your fame. So Christians were choosing not to talk about it, even if all they were planning on saying was "homosexuality is wrong and God's definition of sexuality is right," because to address it at all was taboo to your public appearance.

That's a really bad reason for Christians not to talk about something. Christians know that all sin has been defeated and conquered by Christ. So why are we acting like mentioning it gives it power? Mention the sin (not the people sinning, but the sin) like it's a monster that WAS terrible and scary, but once Jesus gets ahold of it it's actually powerless and slain.

Christians have done the same thing with sex. It's supposed to be this awesome act of worship that God created to point to the cosmic idea of oneness with Him. It's supposed to be a wonderful thing, like singing beautiful songs or eating good food; all in the right way, in the right time. But Christians saw people using it sometimes in the wrong way, at the wrong time, so they threw the whole freakin baby out with the bath water and now the Church in the West is just starting to turn the corner and talk about sex again. But young people really needed to hear about it, the right way, from the Church, generations ago.

Anyway. Soapbox. The point is, if you know that homosexuality is a sin that is only destructive when it isn't submitted to Christ, and you're going to call it THAT, then what's to fear? Why does the corrupt culture get to hog the mic? So what if it wasn't a widely-accepted sin again until recently? Acting like it wasn't worth addressing, or like calling attention to it would've made the sin expand, didn't do anything to actually stop the culture from treating it like a good thing.

If Christians don't remind everybody of truth, the culture will twist it.

It's like being at a kid's birthday party, and you notice a tiger slinking over the backyard fence. Only instead of warning everybody you just sit there and try not to look directly at it. Try not to draw attention to the tiger. Because if you do, the kids might run over and try to pet it. So it's best to just sit there and hush everybody who points the tiger out up? No! The tiger's in the yard! It's too late to ignore it! Point it out, and point it out for what it is: not a big kitty you can pet, but a big dangerous beast that will hurt you if you don't treat it like that's what it is.

Rrrrg.

Thank you for asking me this question.

P.S. VERY IMPORTANT:

If you ARE writing a story, and you DO feel convicted about putting homosexual couples in the story—don't do it. Why? After everything J just said?

Because the one scripture that trumps everything I said is the one about your personal convictions: Romans 14:23. It's talking about meat sacrifices to idols, but the principle is, if you make a decision that is not based in faith, it's sin. So if you read everything I just said and still feel convicted about writing in a homosexual couple, it's not a good idea to force yourself to do it anyway. Because if you're forcing yourself to ignore conviction, it means you're making a decision based on...what? Peer pressure? A sound argument? Neither of which are agreed with by your redeemed-conscience? Can't be a decision based on faith, then, right?

We can talk more about that if you want!

Pray about it. Have you done that? Sometimes I get so spun into my own reasoning and puzzling something out, and then I'm like, "God is literally watching the inside of my brain spin itself out, He's standing right there with the answers and I don't even bother to ask 😅" Don't do that!

Thanks again for the hard question.

#I love it when people make me think about stuff like this #thank you #asked #answered #Christianity #writing #Storytelling

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finethingswellworn · 1 year ago

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Our Flag Means Death is so much about the struggle between what people have the ability to do, what they're good at doing, even, verses what they actually want to do.

Just because someone has the aptitude for being a pirate or a brilliant captain or a gentleman, it doesn't necessarily mean they're happy in the role that's been prescribed to them.

There's this harmful idea we have when we're growing up and even into adulthood that we should stick to what we know, what we're good at. I was told from a very young age who and what I would grow up to be based not on what I wanted, but on what others wanted from me.

And yes, I might have been alright in that life, content in a vague sort of way, but they treated it as such an indisputable fact of the universe that it eventually drove me away.

Our Flag says: "Hey, what if you tried something new? What if you did the unexpected? What if you abandoned others' preconceived notions of what you ought to be doing and just did what makes you happy for once?"

But Our Flag also says: "What if you were horrible at it? What if you made a complete ass of yourself? What if you watched your whole life burn down, everything you worked so hard to build lying wrecked and smoldering on the ground until there was nothing left, just you, you alone with yourself and the person you hope you could maybe be someday? But what if you were the happiest you've ever been standing there in the ashes?"

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta

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suzukiblu · 8 months ago

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the theoretical me that exists in the YJ gets packed up verse (DC continuity does, after all, supposedly take place on Earth and my home country is yet to be blown off the map) just turned into a Superman rogue and they only have a vague idea why. man, fuck Clark. just what is, or isn't, he thinking? what pack? what pack???

He DOES think Kon has a pack, I will say, because this is working-at-Cadmus era Kon and so Kon does have a lot of connections and friends there. Clark just has assumed that those connections and friends are more pack-like than they actually are and, uh . . . not ever discussed it with Kon?? ( Clark, why. )

Also, like, word of god he heard a cat up a tree/natural disaster somewhere and ran off quicker than he should've to go deal with that instead of having a full and proper conversation with Kon and giving himself enough time to realize Kon did NOT in fact have any pack to go to, which I think is something I should posssssibly try to make evident in the narrative sooner than I originally intended to so everyone doesn't start stocking up on the kryptonite. 😆 Possibly.

( Look, it's Kon's POV and Clark was trying to be polite, okay?! The dumbass. The absolute DUMBASS. )

#daemoninwhiteround2 #rintalk #omegaverse

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canmom · 1 month ago

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choosing the treasure that eats you

the gods in narrative podcast The Silt Verses cover an enormous variety of motifs and subjects - and indeed, we are told how new gods are invented all the time, researched and tested by the government, competing to be the patron of companies and individuals, broken down and dumped when they're no longer needed. but they are all unified by two things: they all demand human sacrifices ('a god must feed' as Carpenter puts it in the opening episode) and they all inflict dramatic body-horror transformations (a process known as 'hallowing'), associated with their theme.

nevertheless, the idea of not following a god seems to be pretty alien to the people of this world. and you don't really get much choice: if, as in episode 7, your advertising company's restructuring decides that the weakest performers need to be sacrificed to their new 'sponsor', you don't get to opt out, it's in your contract and no doubt the police will catch you if you run. we see over and over how the gods (and their chief devotees) pick out the vulnerable, drive their believers to spiral down into life-defining obsession - by stringing them along with vague promises of some kind of final answer or fulfilment, then turn away and discard them as soon as they've served their purpose.

it is a very, very productive theme, and the writers have a gift for furnishing it with evocative words and nasty details so it doesn't get stale. so of course I reflect on the metaphor.

in nier automata, the childlike machine lifeforms search for purpose in a world that doesn't seem to offer any. the answers they find are their 'treasures': small, seemingly insignificant objects which individual machines devote themselves to protecting.

youtube

for example, one machine may devote itself to cultivating a flower (as in the second episode of the anime), or looking after a broken doll (as in the story of pathetic failmachine Plato 1728 seen in the DLC/the Deserving of Life single by Amazarashi). other sidequests lead you to encounter machines who obsess over fighting, or travelling fast (easy challenges to implement in a game engine).

the machines' behaviour seems inexplicable and even random to others, but the pointlessness is kind of the point: somewhere the chain of 'why' has to terminate. i choose this one.

sometimes i think about 'art' in the sense of a set of behaviours exhibited by humans. i don't have any interest in demarcating art vs non-art, just to understand what this phenomenon is, why it should be so compelling.

one definition that keeps sticking around in here, despite it not really working, is that 'art' is a word for the thing we devote ourselves for no other reason. you could spend your time drawing, but equally you could spend it speed cubing. we are obsessively optimising creatures so, presented with a defined scope of an activity - something like the rules of a game - we refine our skills within it, pushing the bar further and further, changing the rules as we go to keep it interesting. the art forms that stick around tend to be the ones that continue to be productive and evolve. but it's all, in a sense, pointless - and that's why it's the most important thing, because it's done for itself, not in service of some other goal.

this is not actually a good description of the thing it claims to describe. many things we celebrate as 'art' are done for extrinsic, not intrinsic motivations, like commissioned paintings. indeed, far from being purely intrinsically motivated, there are many extrinsic functions that the various activities we call 'art' perform: communication, entertainment, distraction, a tool to reason with, a safe zone to explore emotions, ideological propaganda, historical memory.

nevertheless, the idea of a thing done for its own sake, defying justification, continues to compel somehow.

art does not escape the logic of sacrifice. if you sacrifice your time, your health, your social connections in pursuit of your art - why, does that not prove the art is more important than your time, your health, your friendships? there's a romance in the narrative about burning up in pursuit of something 'great' - and if you want to undercut that narrative, you likely claim that the object is not particularly worth the effort. it's just videogames. it's just cartoons.

the slogan of The Silt Verses is the sarcastic line of Carpenter (originally her friend Vaughan, part of episode 7's corporate hecatomb): "you get to choose the thing that eats you". a very succinct statement! don't we, indeed.

not that sacrifice is always for some abstract intrinsic goal. in the story, the feeding is often done in exchange for some straightforward, material advantage - and in a sense that is the same in our world, with the threshold adjusted so you have to sacrifice a certain amount to just stay alive.

here's a calculation, because i'm fond of numbers: if you start working full-time at, say, age 21 (a conservative assumption, most people start earlier) up until the UK retirement age of 66 (currently, set to rise), working 40 hours a week (conservative, but then again most people don't actually work the hours they're paid for), the current price of a full human life is 114,793 hours to the gods of capital - pick your fave. if you sleep eight hours a night, the god of sleep gets 160,710 during that same period. harder to fit parameters on the demands of the gods of food, cleaning, caring for others, travelling to and fro, and 'being too tired to do much of anything', which certainly have their own demands.

that leaves you with a certain number to use for your own arbitrary ends. in theory, you get to choose what will eat those ones. in practice? a unified will? consistent intentions? ya joking mate. how many hours go to the god of 'responding to the thing in front of me', known by its sacred name, Aydeeaitchdee?

i used to feel jealous of people, some of them my friends, who seem to have some kind of unique vision, some sort of captivating identity to the creations that they express. the 'spark' that makes that special. i wondered - still wonder - if i will finally find my spark, a reason i'm here, a unique contribution i'm poised to make to the world, the value over replacement - the thing that all this mess was building towards all along, the thing that will make all the efforts so far feel less faltering and haphazard. but why should there be such a thing? if one day i live long enough to, by chance, find something that feels like it's an answer, it's just a retroactive reframing of the chaos - because that's what brains do. convince someone they made a decision they didn't, and they will justify it to you.

there is a song by Sassafrass, an incredibly nerdy a capella band who otherwise largely sing about norse mythology, called 'somebody will'. when i first heard this song i honestly kind of hated it (you can probably find that post if you dig hard enough). it felt like a tragic cope: facing the blatant reality that you will never be an astronaut as you (apparently) desire, to insist on narrativising your life as being part of the great project space colonisation - even if it's so remote as clerking a funding organisation or working at a scifi bookstore or attending a convention (it's from quite a specific milieu), you can claim to be one of the 'sailors' helping to 'conquer' that 'ocean'. i hated it, because why should the space program be all that? somebody will walk on mars someday - so fucking what? what then? job's a good 'un, everybody? is that really worth sacrificing shit ('sacrifice something i don't have for something i won't have') for, here and now? surely your life is about more than putting 'somebody' on Mars one day?

but considering it again today - i mean it might as well be the space program as anything else, right. you need a direction to move in. it doesn't matter what the direction, as long as it keeps you moving. change is life and stillness is death, don't you know. perhaps you drag others along with you and you get a current flowing that way for a while, until the energy driving it runs out, or it runs up against the overpressure around an as-yet uneroded bank. so we all move around and the dynamics of it all, invisible to us, build a delta, which becomes a rock, and against that flows another river one day, grinding down the rock to move it to another delta, all by the nearly-random movements of the water molecules. shit i think i lost the thread of the metaphor and now i'm just talking about geophysics

it seems... almost laughably tedious to be circling this existential drain still. in my milieu: douglas adams cracked his joke about 'the ultimate question of life the universe and everything' 30 years earlier in 1977. randall munroe uploaded 'i'll get the super soaker' in 2007. but navel-gazing has been a joke for much longer, surely at least as long as there have been people to question what the point is.

funny how it always comes back to water metaphors.

#introspective nightposting #the silt verses spoilers #nier automata #Youtube

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ordinaryschmuck · 7 months ago

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*Sighs*...Okay, yeah, Wish really IS bad

And I didn't want to go in thinking that. I went in with the most optimistic view possible. Because with EVERYONE treating this movie as the worst thing possible, a POX upon the house of mouse itself, I went in thinking that there's no WAY it's THAT bad. So when I finally watched, I decided...I was right. It's NOT that bad. But...Well...Let's get into it.

This is the part where I'd say "Positives First," to show off what worked before picking apart what didn't. Except that, aside from a few little moments and easter eggs that made me go, "Aw, that's cute," I'm coming up EMPTY. Every single thing--And I do mean EVERY SINGLE THING in this movie, from the animation, songs, characters, story, themes, ideas, and even EXECUTIONS...is ALMOST good. Every single aspect of this film ALMOST worked. The pieces are there and I can see just how this film could have been the masterpiece that was a CENTURY in the making. The problem is that there's ONE THING holding it back: Not enough time. And I don't just mean that the movie should have been longer. No, I mean that this movie needed another YEAR of production to tighten up EVERYTHING. Why's that? Well, let's go in order of the things I mentioned.

The animation is clearly trying to go for this mixed-medium style that movies like Puss in Boots: The Last Wish or Spider-Verse popularized. Those movies mixed hand-drawn animation with 3D models, making storybook illustrations or comic book art feel ALIVE. That's sort of Wish is going for. I hear people say that Disney's 100 year celebration should have been completely hand drawn to call back to their early years, but I tend to disagree. I think Disney making a movie that's mixed-medium is a better way to honor its one hundred years, taking the animation that made Disney huge and mixing it with modern CGI as a way to make it feel like a celebration of the old AND new. EXCEPT that it doesn't really look good, aside from certain screenshots. There are SOME still images where if you paused the movie at the right time you can get something that looks like a 2D image with CG touch-ups. For the rest of the movie, it looks like a modern CGI Disney film with a storybook filter slapped on it. It doesn't look TOO BAD when your eyes get used to it, but it doesn't stop the movie from feeling like it ALMOST hit the right mark. The only times it REALLY works is with Star.

Wha--No. No, not that one. That's the wrong Disney character named Star.

There he is. There's my little guy.

But look at him. He's a 3D character with hand-drawn touch-ups that really makes him feel like a 2D character brought to life. If the whole movie looked like HIM, then it would have been a revolutionary achievement for Disney. But it doesn't. Instead, it feels like a missed opportunity that would have worked better if they had more time to animate this film instead of leaving their animators scattered to the winds to make half-assed sequels or forcing out one to two projects every year.

There should have also been more attention given to the songs because...Oh my gosh, they're bad. They SOUND nice, I love the instrumentals and the POWER these people put into the vocals. "This Wish" and its reprise successfully gives me chills through how well they're sang and how epic the instruments make them. But the LYRICS...are messy. When you sit down and actually LISTEN to what's sung, it all just...BLEH. That's the best way I can describe it, I'm sorry! It's BLEH!

Why would a king in a fairytale kingdom in the distant past sing, "You're sure you're not the prob?"

"Throwing caution into every warning sign" doesn't come across as a person freeing herself from her insane king's vague warnings but ADHERING to them.

The way that Asha and King Magnifico sing about protecting wishes makes it sound like they're singing to EACH OTHER.

And "You're A Star." OH BOY! The song that's meant to explain how these animals can magically talk is just filled with allegories and allusions that think they explain EVERYTHING only to explain NOTHING. It's just vague nonsense that, again, SOUNDS nice, but offers no real substance. On its own, I guess I can get into it, but to tell a story, it falls apart. Because that's the difference when it comes to writing a regular song and writing a musical: You're not just making a good song, you're telling a story through MUSIC. Wish's soundtrack is one that's filled with catchy songs, but not ones that properly move the story forward. Not to mention how they're so jarringly out of character in cases like "This is the Thanks I Get." When Disney released the soundtrack, that was my favorite song because I felt like it perfectly fit this smug, egotistical prick who thought he was the best person alive. Turns out that's not what Wish was going for...Not entirely.

Magnifico feels like he's meant to be a mix between Gaston and Maleficent. A character that has a huge ego and loves himself more than anything, but has an incredible amount of power to make himself a threat. If done right, a villain like that could stand up to be with some of Disney's best. And, yeah, like everything else in this movie, he ALMOST works. When he's finally a villain, he's campy and over the top, making him entertaining...But notice how I said "When he's finally a villain." That's because Magnifico doesn't really become what he's meant to be until halfway through the movie. He starts off as a King with good intentions but paranoid ideals that doesn't make him evil, it makes him feel like a guy who needed evidence to prove that other magic isn't a threat. By the time he finally acts more like a Disney villain, it was such a jarring left turn that his sudden switch-up made me feel like it was somehow a nightmare sequence from Asha. He's NOTHING like the guy he starts out as, and it's not a natural change that flows well throughout the film. That's mainly because the story has a pacing problem worse than any movie I've seen. If King Magnifico's path to the dark side was slow and gradual, showing signs of his worst qualities first and make them more apparent as the film goes on, he would have worked INCREDIBLY. Instead, it comes across as his villainy was activated like someone flipped a switch in his brain that says, "Be evil now." It's the absolute REVERSE of a bad redemption story, mixed with a lazy explanation that it was dark magic that made him more corrupt when he should have been evil since minute one. And you want to know the worst part? He's probably the best character in this.

Asha...isn't bad. She's your standard quirky nice girl protagonist that Disney just LOVES to use, especially lately. It's just that Asha doesn't have that "Gets stuff done" attitude like Moana or Mulan, nor does she have the infectious charm like Maribel or Anna. Asha, instead, is a lot like her breakout song: Nice and enjoyably, but doesn't stand out from the biggest hits. As for her animal sidekick Valentino...He's not annoying, but he's not funny either. Honestly, his comedy peaked when it was revealed that this cute baby goat sounded like Clayface from that Harley Quinn cartoon. A joke, by the way, that got spoiled by the trailers, so it's not really AS funny in the movie. Honestly, Asha's SEVEN FRIENDS are funnier at times. Speaking of, those characters are very clearly meant to be the Seven Dwarfs. And it is VERY distracting because not only does it feel like only two or three of them are necessary to the plot, but they're the ONLY major reference that the movie shines a light on when it comes to Disney's history.

Would I have wanted this entire movie to be nothing but references of past Disney movies? Of course not. That's not how movies work. But Wish seems to have this problem where it doesn't really COMMIT to honoring Disney's legacy. The most it does is give the Seven Dwarfs human OCs, make them supporting characters, and throws in tiny little easter eggs here and there. Again, some of them are cute, but it's not enough. The same goes for when Wish tries to honor some of the tropes and cliches that Disney popularized. It's an animated musical with talking animals, a campy villain, an objectively pretty protagonist, and goofy sidekicks. But it takes more than ADDING that stuff to your movie in order to honor them. You need to look at what made those tropes and cliches work in the first place and make something that calls back to those classic films while still having something new to say. And Wish almost--ALMOST--has something new to say.

With everything surrounding King Magnifico and how he got more power with people's wishes, I almost thought Wish was going to be a film that called out modern Disney. At least, modern CORPORATE Disney, a company that takes ideas and thoughts created by dozens of talented people, twists them into something unrecognizable, and refuses to give those ideas back when choosing to do NOTHING with this great idea leaves them free of competition. And to stop something evil like that, you must make something of your own and work hard to make your idea yours instead of letting someone more powerful take it from you. I thought that would have been a GREAT message...But of course DISNEY wouldn't want a movie calling them OUT for their one hundred year victory lap. So, instead, we have a message that tries to get the same idea across, but in a simplified way where the wishes are taken LITERALLY and that the only way to get what you want is to wish hard enough for it. That is...NOT the message I want kids to learn from this as it often leads to bad expectations. If this movie tried an ironically anti-Disney message in ANY OTHER year, it would have a better chance of getting away with it. But for a hundred year celebration, there was no chance in hell.

Wish is NOT Disney's worst movie, but it's nowhere near the best. I love SO MANY of the ideas and what it TRIES to do, but there's a difference between good ideas and good executions. It was ALMOST good, but Wish was not the movie anybody was really wishing for...

#disney #wish critical #quick thoughts #what i thought about

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hazbinhotel-bitch · 9 months ago

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Alastor x (Name) podcast

Head cannon:

Alastor making fire segues to sponsors

(Name) both loving and hating the segues that he comes up with on the spot.

The two have a lot of banter and sometimes will have arguments live on the broadcasts.

(Name) having to convince Alastor to try and revamp his broadcast by having sponsors.

(Name) also happened to be a well known journalist before she died so she tends to be the bringing in new stories circling the rings of hell.

Alastor eventually learned to enjoy having a co-host for his live broadcasting to help the exposure of the hotel.

(Name) is a Fox Demon (Might Draw what she looks like)

(Name) is a very creative woman who also enjoys the arts of music and dance.

Unlike Alastor she is rather fond and open to many genre of music and has an appreciation of all things old and new.

They often bicker about what sponsors to take on, (Name) was newer things that are deemed more modern but Alastor surprisingly prefers things a little more outdated or a little more sustainable in nature.

(Name) passed away around 21st century, she was roughly in her early 30s when she passed after a bad lead that ended up killing her. She had always been a very cunning woman and knew how to get what she wanted and would do anything to get the information she needed for her articles.

She was a very selfish woman when it came to her career and her promotions but aside from her greed and her pride she was sent to hell due to her questionable behaviour in obtaining said information, it’s a detail she still keeps vague from those around her.

(Name) managed to come across Alastor after she saw the news interview of Charlie prompting her little hotel of redemption, the Hazbin Hotel. She originally pretended to be a sinner who was on the path to redemption, but her original motives were to write a paper giving the inside scope to twist and tarnish the silly cause, but after meeting Charlie (Name) started to rethink her motives.

Alastor as an Overlord scared her when he fought on to her snooping but eventually the two dispute coming from two different eras were able to become the unlikely of friends. (Name) still does write her papers on other subjects and publishes them anonymously until she ends up pissing off Valentino and Vox.

Above all Alastor and (Name) have a very platonic relationship but it can tiptoe around almost being romantic as they are both very protective of each other.

--------- ---------

** Alastor in this Head Cannon I am creating for this Fanfiction is that Alastor is part of the Ace spectrum in his sexuality/orientation. I am not well versed in asexuality aside from what friends have told me about their experience. Alastor in this fanfic is not someone who feels sexual attraction nor does he find any interest in romantic relationships. Not because he dislikes the idea but because he doesn't understand romantic relationship and just doesn't find romance important (this is subjective to change as the story progresses when he and (Name) start to develop a closer relationship). If I had to label his asexuality for this fanfic it would be Demisexual.

I just wanted to be clear here so I don't get anyone getting mad at me. I am aware back in 2018 the creator of Hazbin hotels said Alastor was Asexual and that at some point someone said that Alastor was Aro-Ace (Aromantic-Asexual) which is fine but for the sake of this Fanfiction he is Demisexual **

(Photo of (Name) the fox demon writer)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fanfic #alastor x reader #radio demon #alastor headcanons #x reader #female reader #alastor

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transmutationisms · 6 months ago

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i know this might be an annoying ask so im willing to pay for it lol but do you have any nonfic book recs that discuss sex and porn? super vague i know but im just interested in whatever books youve read on the topic that heavily informed ur current understanding/ideas

honestly i don't have much to rec here; it's not a topic i consider myself particularly well-versed on & mostly when i talk about it all i'm doing is applying the same principles that underlie the rest of my politics rather than treating sex as some kind of exception. i think reading samuel delany probably did more to shape my position here than anything else---not to say 'theory' on this topic doesn't exist, just that im not the person to ask for it. matory's 'the fetish revisited' could also be useful here as an example of what i mean by treating sexuality symmetrically to any other aspect of life, and applying the same political analysis rather than considering sex as exceptional.

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milgram-tournament · 11 months ago

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MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 4 HALF vs. MAGIC

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for HALF:

kazui may just be an old gay man but HE CAN SING.

its. literally stunning.

like aside from his character and everything else, half is just really really beautifully written

THE INSTRUMENTALS.

HIS V O I C E??? its so pretty

heartbreaking lyrics. i dont love kazui as a character but i have bawled to half

GAY RIGHTS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love amane but she will undoubtedly win when her purge march poll rolls around, so lets let the old man have a win shall we?

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half propaganda let's goooo sorry i'm sobern't in true kazui style so this probably won't make a bit of sense

theatre kid man. i love him, incredible mv.

this song is pure ASMR to me

visually aligned with Cat and it's so lovely to see that continuity

the GRAINY MOVIE DOTS THING ON THE MV <3

kazui is so dramatic. i love him i love him

dapper gentleman. such clothes

the key change is so well done

AND THE . THE PART WITH THE. THE ENDING SORT OF LYRICS OVERLAID WITH SPEAKING. and then his quieter singing and, and, and o h my god. im sorry. im not very coherent abt this rn

every part of the song is amazing but once it gets to the key change and after it keeps stepping up the amount of being perfect

kazui is in it

go my psionic warriors vote for everyone's favourite failhusband

no children were tortured in the making of this MV (cough looking at You magic)

---

Allow me to present my Half propaganda!

- The slower tempo adds a very relaxing feeling to the song. Kinda ironic, but I like it! It sort of reminds of old indie songs from 2012 (especially with what I think is whistling added in the instrumental in-between chorus and verses.)

- Kazui’s voice. Enough said.

- It’s very easy to listen to, and I find it’s one of the only songs from Milgram that I like to listen to out of context (besides After Pain, Backdraft, and Purge March, oddly enough.)

- The MV is rife with imagery, and is used to beautiful effect. It really makes you feel for Kazui and his situation.

- The scene with him and Hinako before the key change… that makes me so emo.

- The overlapping part at the end… the lyrics combined with the dialogue in the background makes me really sad in a way I can’t explain.

Propaganda for MAGIC:

MAGIC MY BELOVED MAGIC!!! Its one of the best MVs in the entire series, even including T2. Magic is visually stunning and has some fantastic art direction but also is very clever in how it conveys its themes and ideas. Magic doesn't really hide anything from you, not really. It's all symbolic but it Tells You Things. It shows you the abuse, it shows you the cat. There's a fun little relationship going on here where, In Magic. Amane's pain and suffering isn't taken seriously by the people around her and the Audience we are discouraged to take it at face value due to the fictionalized nature of Magic. It's so cool. I'm so fond of the song as well, it's one of the best in the series purely cause of the Layers in it. The implications of this Inability to be good is seeped into Magic. Amane knows this isn't reality, Magic knows it's a show, she watches it at the end. And it's so Sad to me that even in her fictionalized happy world she Cannot be a good girl. It's a standard completely out of reach for her and that idea is just conveyed so well visually.

Im not even talking about the goddamn cat yet- the cat symbolism goes Deep. That cat is HER it has the same wounds Amane has in Purge March. I- I cant talk about the intertextuality of Purge March and Magic here this is Magic propaganda only- I- there's so much good stuff to Magic. I Re watched it over and over again. It has some the Best Writing and Visual Communication in Milgram and I will Die on this Hill.

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shoutout to magic for having pretty props AND being vague as fuck about the crime! diversity win!

seriously though amane looks SO cute in it! the mv has such a pretty and colorful style and even with that it's able to show the horrors of what amane went through.

adding onto my last point. that scene where the cat is hyperventilating and you see the camera shaking???? that scene where the mascots find amane helping the cat and they're all standing over her? CHILLS. im repeating myself but the fact that they were able to portray the awful things amane went through in a genuinely emotional way while still keeping the cute cartoon look is soo impressive

there are SO many layers to itill the entire cartoony style making it look like a tv show… utilizing the cartoony effects and bright colors to show amane downplaying her own pain… the transformation after she gets punished barely changing anything to show just how manipulated she was from the start… ueueueue

ALSO ALSO ALSO THE SCENE AT THE END WITH AMANE STARING AT THE SCENE? OHHH ITS SO GOOD it adds such a feeling of dread and reminds you on top of this whole thing that all of this is truly horrifying! something is going on here!

this song is so catchy it gets stuck in my head CONSTANTLY

"Dear wise one, Am I worthy? Is it ok to spoil myself?" AMANE... UEUEUUEUE

the little ding sound effects in the instrumental?????

amanes voice is ADORABLE

THE INSTRUMENTAL IN THAT PART WHERE SHES HELPING THE CAT HAS THAT GODLY TYPE SOUND YOUD TYPICALLY ASSOCIATE WITH CHURCHES AND STUFF AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN IT PROPERLY BUT JUST RELISTEN TO IT AND YOU WILL KNOW WHAT I MEAN. ITS SUCH A NEAT DETAIL

i could go on about this mv for days but i am not a theorist unfortunately. just. magic sweep

#milgram #milgramtournament #mukuhara kazui #amane momose

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noxexistant · 19 days ago

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ai-less whumptober; day nineteen

@ailesswhumptober 19 — disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.” ↳ the farm, intentionally vague word count; 1.2k

cw; violence, abuse, resulting in disability

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's just one hit that lands wrong.

Morris is fourteen when it happens.

Both he and Oscar are well-versed in being hit, being beat to absolute shit by their father — and Ma, when she was in the mood — and thus Oscar had always held this misguided belief that they're both toughened up by it all. The hits don't really matter anymore, have lost their weight with their frequency — and they can take it. The same way a scarred knee stops scraping as easily, the same way his arm that Da had once wrenched from its socket no longer seems to hurt as badly when it's wrenched in the exact same way by that same hand. They're strong, toughened, even though Morris still cries most of the time when Da goes at him.

Oscar knows immediately that something is wrong when the usual crying shifts distinctly with Da's last hit.

Da's been laying into him a while, over some stupid little thing that never mattered, but he's got this way of riling himself up when the violence starts. He'll just keep going, spurring himself on, remembering every tiny thing that Morris has ever done until he's furious, and then he'll go at him until he's satisfied. Or exhausted. Whichever comes last.

The final blow is a crack across the side of Morris' face, not particularly more brutal than anything else, but it has him curling up on the floor and wailing, both hands coming up to wind around his head as if to shield himself. But Oscar's seen him take worse. There's a bad feeling in his gut. Morris is making an awful wailing, high-pitched the way he used to screech when he was a baby hurting.

Da walks away, doesn't look back. Oscar scurries over to his crumpled brother's side.

"Mo," he says, reaching for his brother. Morris ignores him. "Mo, c'mon, it's me."

He gets closer, trying to yank his brother's hands away from his head to see what the damage is, but Morris fights him. His one arm finally goes, goes limp as it does, but the other is holding his palm clasped desperate over his ear — the one facing up towards Oscar. The one Da had cracked him across.

"You bleedin'?" Oscar asks him, gentle as he can, and tries again to pull the hand away. He's strong enough that, for a moment, it goes — and he does see blood. But it's not a gouge along Morris' ear or anything, it's blood dripping out of it. And…something else, something paler and more watery. There's something…so distinctly wrong-looking to it, something that makes Oscar's stomach twist.

Morris is still screaming.

"Mo," Oscar says. "C'mon, stop. You're makin' a fuss. It'll get better, okay? It'll stop hurtin' soon."

Losing his patience — panicking, though he'd never admit it — he forcefully rolls his brother over, intending to haul him up, and Morris freezes when he sees Oscar above him like he'd had no idea he was here.

"Os," he says, but it's. Garbled and weird. He doesn't make the sound right, the way people talk when they're sick and real bunged up. "Os. Os—?"

"What? What? I'm here, Mo, alright?"

Morris stares at him for a second, unmoving except for how he seems to be swaying, listing. There's something utterly petrified in his eyes, and in a moment there's tears dripping down his cheeks again. Silent this time.

"Os, p'ease—"

"I'm right here. You're fine, okay? He jus' caught you in a bad spot, but—"

"Os, I can't hear you."

Oscar is initially adamant that it'll fix itself. His own hearing has gone funny before, when he's been sick or after he's been stood too close to Da with the shotgun. He'd been deaf in one ear for days, just like Morris seems to be now. So he calmly cleans and wipes the blood and gunk leaking from his little brother's ear and promises him, mouthing the words real clear, that it'll get better. The pain and ringing will go away and the hearing will come back, be as good as his other ear again.

It doesn't.

Oscar's left to wonder, sometimes, if maybe it would've. If it hadn't been for everything else, if Morris had had the chance to just heal without being hit again and again on that same side of his brutalised head, whatever had been broken in that one ear surely being broken worse and worse. If he hadn't kept being overworked, sent out into the fields in the blinding heat and freezing cold, made to keep working even when he's sick, even when his ear starts leaking again. If they'd had the opportunity to just see a fucking doctor rather than Da ignoring it all, never once saying he's sorry, never once even facing the possibility of what he did.

But it doesn't.

The pain fades, and Morris cries less. Steadily, he stops falling over whenever he walks, though he still bumps into stuff constantly, gets real dizzy real easily. He's shit at following instructions and worse at paying attention, lists to one side when he's zoning out — and, sometimes, he disappears entirely.

It's something Oscar would love to blame on the deafness.

The fact that Morris will go catatonic sometimes, unresponsive, would be so easy to blame on him just not being able to hear Oscar's calling for him. But he knows better. Knows it's Da's fault, just like the deafness is — so maybe that comes together, at least. Morris will shut down rather than face what he can't. Oscar gets that. Wishes he had the same luxuries, but he can't seem to get any respite, awake or asleep — and though Morris is much better now at hearing, knows how to pick out the sounds and read them against lip movements, and Oscar knows how to speak and where to stand so that Morris can always understand him, there's so much that's lost. Been lost.

Oscar's spent every year missing that brother he lost at fourteen. All the time lost to Morris having to relearn how to hear with just one working ear, figuring out how to speak when he can't pick out the sounds he's making. All the worsened abuse from everyone else who never understood, insisted Morris was just rude and ignorant and belligerent when he didn't hear their murmured instructions or failed to respond to their speaking on his deaf side.

It's not fair.

And a part of Oscar knows he's being selfish, making Morris' pain — his own loss — about himself, but. It's for both of them, really. They've always been as much each others' as theirs, always together, and if Oscar is grieving a brother he lost then he's also grieving that Morris lost a version of himself too.

"I wish I could get you back," he says, to the silent air between them. Says it a little low so Morris won't be able to pick it out, but Morris is a million miles away regardless. Exhausted eyes staring straight ahead, glassy and empty, not even seeing the blank wall of their bedroom that he's been locked on all this time. Oscar had only sat beside him, shoulders brushing, ready to weather the emptiness as long as Morris holds it.

As much as Morris has had to relearn how to be himself, they're still relearning how to be them.

They'll figure it out.

#newsies #morris delancey #oscar delancey #ailesswhumptober2024 #my writing

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halliescomut · 1 year ago

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I defended Lom, but now I shall talk about Nuea

So...a lot of this is going to be a bit rant-y, because honestly there's some reactions that have been going on that really aggravate me. But I wanted to talk more about Nuea as a character in the show, and how I think he's being presented. You hear (for reasons unknown) a lot of discussion over how Lom is almost tricking Nuea by withholding the fact that his arrangement and marriage to Yiwa is in name only. I have so many problems with this read on the situation. While it is VERY common for BLs to use naivety as a trope, it's actually surprisingly rare to see from Mame. It's not one of her go-to's and so I was actually really surprised at how many people saw Nuea as 'innocent' (read virginal) or naive. We saw a similar reaction with Sky, this idea that he's an innocent little lamb, and I kind of figured that was because that's what Rain was. Rain was clearly modeled to be this sort of ingénue-style character, young, wide-eyed, innocent to an extent, but also experimental, not constrained by societal boundaries. But what the first encounter with Prapai showed was that he was not only not innocent, but experienced. Now granted many of his experiences were likely awful and traumatic, but Gun likely didn't got straight from 1 to 100, abusers rarely do, but there's also no clarity at all on whether Sky had any other intimate partners of his own choosing, whether a relationship or just another one-night stand. But circling back to my actual point, I think there are many viewers for which LITA was their first experience with Mame, and they believe Rain to be the blueprint for her 'bottoms' when in reality he's an outlier.

How this affects the perception of Nuea, is that since he is shown to be a fairly quiet, sensitive, kind person, some viewers began making assumptions. They assume that he's not physically experienced, that he's submissive, or even shy, and that's not really the case. We don't see much to indicate that at all in the show. He's very vocal for a lot of the show. He expresses his concerns to his boss freely, without concern for reprisal, and this certainly due at least in part to the type of boss she is, but even if she were some angry, obstinate crone, I doubt that would have stopped him. He's very vocal and honest in his conversations with Lom all through the series. He doesn't put up with any of Lom's rich/privileged BS. His kindness and empathy throughout is more a show of strength than anything. He's able to pretty easily get the results he wants without being rude, or mean. Even in his frustration with Lom, he's not vicious, but exasperated, reacting to Lom's childishness more like an exhausted nanny than anything else.

Nuea is confident, like really confident. He's confident in his abilities and skill at work. He's a confident gay man, he doesn't shy away from sex. His hesitation in regards to sleeping with Lom initially is based only on his knowledge of the likely fall-out (especially emotionally). Once we get to this most recent episode it's very clear that he has no hesitation in being an active and passionate partner.

I'm willing to bet after the absolute boss way that he shut down that shitty orchard customer, that we may see his confidence make an appearance next week in regards to Lom and Yiwa's mothers acting like petulant toddlers.

I think it's also important to remember that while he is younger than Lom (his actor is actually younger than ALL of the LITA boys), he's not actually all that young. While ages and timelines are pretty vague in the Mame-verse, Prapai should be about 30 in the Wedding Plan, and Lom is meant to have been his junior while they were getting their Masters, so he's probably 27-ish. Nuea, having attended university and worked as an event planner for several years is probably 25. He's not a child, and their age difference is practically negligible. Again, I feel this is an assumption based on the idea that LITA is the norm, when it's very much not. All of Mame's other main couples (in shows) have either been the same age, or with in a year or two of each other.

So while Lom may have some power/privilege over Nuea, it's very much situational and based on him being 'employed' by him, which is something that we as the audience know he could change if he really wanted to. We see that P'Im is more than willing to go to bat for her employees, Lom wouldn't be able to pull a Karen and get him fired, or forced to work with him. And while Lom is rich, Nuea's family has a generational business and owns a large amount of property. It's not the same level of rich by any means, Lom essentially has fuck you money, but it's still not like Nuea would be without resources and support if he chose to quit his job or leave Bangkok.

Also, the fact that he gets upset or cries over Lom, doesn't make him 'weak.' I've not heard anyone say that directly, but it's been implied. It's not weak for a man to be able to recognize and express his emotions. That's toxic masculinity bullshit, and we certainly don't want to be putting that pressure on characters that are actively defying it.

I guess in conclusion, my point is that Nuea is a bad-ass, the best kind of bad-ass even, one with a kind heart, and that he's more than capable of standing up for himself both in general and with Lom.

As a final note, what I realized watching episode 3 is that Lom 10000% has a competency kink, and further watching of the show only confirms that. He first encounters Nuea while he works at Pai's wedding and immediately begins lusting. The wedding suit try-ons where he looks at Nuea after learning he took pictures of each choice so that you don't have to try something on over and over again. He gets riled up watching him do the event where Payu proposes. He falls even harder watching Nuea put the creep in his place. Like...he just loves watching his man get shit done, and I respect (and understand) that.

#Wedding Plan #Wedding Plan the series #Mame BL #LomNuea #NueaLom #Nuea x Lom #Lom x Nuea #Sunny Wannarat #Pak Naphat

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