#because i expanded on a few things in the doc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mamayan · 8 months

Note

don’t think i didn’t see this yannie

you know what you have to do now

shiggy step on us with his big feet

This is my third time writing this because Tumblr has eaten my work twice. I will actually slaughter the entity that is tumblr, pull it’s intestines out and use them as a fucking jump rope, if I lose it for a third time. This time I didn’t delete my work on Google doc once I “saved” it to Tumblr. Enjoy some Shiggy nastiness babe♥️

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

tw: All of them NONCON • DUBCON • Rough Sex • Anal Fingering • Degradation • Humiliation • Breath Play (noncon)

You knew better.

In all the time you’ve known him, you knew better than always show your true feelings.

For the most part it hardly mattered, it was second nature not to flinch at the death and destruction he left behind him.

It was the little things which got you. The mundane and unimportant. It was the times he’d let you completely relax, to feel utterly safe and content, that you’d slip up.

He’d been playing video games for the last few hours while you’d been reading. Mindlessly flipping pages and switching between dreams and wakefulness. Wearing his shirt and only a plain pair of underwear, you were content to laze about the day as he was.

You didn’t notice a set of dull garnet eyes soaking you up. The sight of you made his skin itch and teeth ache. On his bed. In his clothes. Reading a graphic novel he recommended.

You were a pretty picture, even to his delusional standards.

This was Tomura though, so his show of love could never be conventional. At best, mildly annoying and at worst, horrendously violent.

You weren’t prepared for a socked foot to nudge your cheek, the scent of sour sweat and mildew entering your nose and causing your face to scrunch up as your stomach recoiled. You nearly threw up, the thought of feet and the smell enough to have you panicking and losing yourself for just a moment as you flinched away.

“That’s fucking gross Tomu—,” it was too late to redact that statement dripping with revulsion.

Too late to stop the dawning of this new information from his calculating mind. Too late when his face showed surprise, only to be followed by a grotesque smile that had your insides curling for a different reason. It was too late to run when his hand gripped your wrist just as you’d moved to throw yourself off the bed.

“Fucking gross?” You winced at his grating tone, his lip splitting grin speaking only of evil intentions as his eyes crinkled unnaturally around the edges. “You think I’m gross?”

“N-no that’s not what I meant—,” he cut you off with a laugh, the sound reverberating around the room. It was rolling and filled with dark amusement.

“Then what did you mean princess? Hm?” You were shaking. It was obvious nothing good was coming, his saccharine tone as he called you princess telling of the nightmare sure to follow. You couldn’t pull out of his grip, the strength he’d placed initially only growing as the seconds tickled by, becoming painful as you jerked. “Got nothing to say?” He chuckles, his gleeful face not matching the cruel intensity of his actions.

He’s doesn’t hesitate to nearly dislocate your shoulder as he throws you to the floor, blue strands of hair falling into his vision as he stomps down on your chest when you attempt to get up.

It didn’t matter you were crying now.

If anything it seemed to spur him on, as he palmed his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

“Common princess, you didn’t really think I’d let this go, did you? I asked you a fucking question.” You gasp in pain as he increases the pressure on your sternum, air becoming difficult when you couldn’t expand your lungs to drag any oxygen in. Crystalline tears pooled in your eyes, dotting your lashes as you pathetically struggled beneath his foot, trying to grip his ankle and remove the pressure.

“N-no—,” you could hardly breathe and the panic seeping into your system made answering or even thinking difficult.

He let up, lifting his foot as you rolled to your side and gasped for air like a fish out of water. The burning in your lungs ebbing but a dull ache remaining as you coughed and sputtered.

He was hardly done with you.

Easily slipping from his socks, he snickered in amusement as he kicked you over to your stomach, foot digging into your shoulder blades as you whine in protest.

“What? Not going to call my feet gross again? They’re all over you now slut.” He rolls his eyes as you whimper out a stuttered apology.

It’s too late for that now.

Dropping to his knees, he easily grips your hips and lifts your ass into the air.

He was going to show a little mercy, but when you tried to push your chest up too, he easily lifted his left foot and smashed your pretty face into the carpet with it.

“Ngh!” Your cry of surprise and pain only making him giggle as he yanks your underwear down to the middle of your thighs. Enjoying the way his shirt on you slides up to your chest and gives him a nice view of the underside of your breasts and soft stomach.

Tomura doesn’t hesitate to land a sharp slap to your now exposed cunt, licking his chapped lips as the wetness clinging to his fingers when he pulls away. Your cry and jolt of shock only furthering his rough treatment with you, as he meanly shoves two dry and bony fingers inside you.

“Tomu—!” you can only dig your fingers into the carpet and try to breathe, because the foot on your head hurts. His toes already tangled in your hair and tearing strands out as he shifts to work you open.

He’s not looking to get you off. When his fingers are sufficiently wet enough for his standards, he happily drags them out of your tight warm walls and up to your puckered asshole.

“Please—,” you can hardly see through the tears, but when the pressure on your head increases you’re forced to relax as he shoves both into your ass.

“Shut up!” He all but snarls, furious at having his fun interrupted by your stupid whining.

“You act like you don’t like my fucking feet, but you’re really just a dirty whore who fucking loves this, aren’t you?” He spreads his fingers, lighting up all your pain censors as he leans over to spit in the small gap he made, before fucking it into you quick and fast.

“Hurts!” Your hiss of pain through gritted teeth is ignored as he lifts his foot off your face, letting your turn your head enough for fresh air and a sigh of relief as he removes his fingers too.

You don’t see him stand, but when your back is forced to arch further with a hand in the middle of it, you cringe as you hear the sound of rustling clothes.

Tomura drops his pants enough to free his cock, rutting into his palm and roughly jerking himself before lining up with your cunt.

“You say it hurts but this cunt is dripping isn’t it slut?” He sneers, keeping you pinned and laughing at your scrunched up features. Your pretty cheeks wet and puffy, snot and tears covering you along with your sweat making strands of hair stick to your forehead.

He hunches over you again, moving one hand back to your hip and swinging his leg around to smash his foot against your face now, snorting in laughter at your cry of outrage. Your cheek burns, your tears and the carpet rubbing your skin raw as you feel his thick tip begin to push into your pussy.

You weren’t actually wet enough despite his words, the stretch and sting bringing a fresh wave of tears as you sob out loud now.

“M’sorry Tomu’ please, hurts, please—,” your begging does nothing but make him shove deeper faster, trying to jam his cock into your tight hole despite the resistance of your clenching walls.

“Fucking relax, or I’ll fuck your ass,” his threat only served to further frighten you, bearing down almost painfully on him.

His moan of pleasure is your only comfort. “So fucking tight,” his hips jerk, rocking unevenly inside of you, before finally having mercy and letting his spit slick you up a little more. The rough skin of his foot slips a little on your tears, moving his toes closer to your mouth and nose as he loses himself to his own pleasure.

You’re left helpless and weighed down as he essentially uses your face and hips as leverage to fuck harder down into you.

As it gets harder to keep himself up, he drops to one knee and bears down more weight on you. You struggle to breathe or even think as his cock works to open you, balls slapping against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it slut, you like this don’t you princess? You gonna cum with my gross fucking feet in your mouth? Haha!” He’s delirious in pleasure as he fucks you, hips slamming

His disgusting untrimmed toenails digging into the soft skin of your lips as your tongue hangs out in pleasure, his face giddy looking at your fucked out expression with his foot on it.

“That’s it bitch, I knew you’d like this,” his gaze dark as he watches you, letting his toes wiggle into your mouth and grunting as your core tightens. “This cunt likes it at least,” he grunts, feeling his balls draw tight as he gasps and works his hips faster.

“Go ahead and cum princess, with my filthy fucking feet in your mouth like the slut you are, hah, fuck yes, that’s it,” you couldn’t stop your orgasm even if you wanted to, crying out around his dirty toes as your body convulses beneath him.

He fills your pussy moments later, moaning loudly as his cock twitches and spills inside. Panting heavily as he catches his breath, Tomura’s eyes crack open to stare down at you.

He removes his foot to reveal your messy appearance, too exhausted at this point to do much else but lay pliant below him. Your lip is split, eyes blurry and unfocused, with cheeks stained in drying salty tears.

Tomura chuckles as he pulls out, watching your pussy twitch and push all his warm cum out and down your shaking thighs.

He stuffs his half hard cock back into his sweats he pulls up, standing and stretching his sore side.

“Look who’s fucking gross now bitch,” he grins, digging his phone out of his pocket and snapping a couple pictures, the flash blinding you for a moment.

He intended to set it as his new screensaver.

#I’m in my doing my best era this week #my service and wifi have been shit #enjoy some Shiggy I love him #Shigaraki Tomura #mha tomura #bnha #mha #Shigaraki tomura smut #Shiggy smut #Mha Tomura smut #Shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader smut #Yan loves her mooties

134 notes · View notes

hephaestuscrew · 10 months

Text

"Minkowski's been talking about Sondheim again…": Minkowski's love of musical theatre and what it reveals about her characterisation and her relationships

TL;DR: Renée Minkowski's love of musicals, while it might seem just like a mundane character detail, is used to give depth to her character because it contrasts with expectations of her from both the listening audience and the other characters. Her willingness or unwillingness to share this interest in different circumstances reveals her relationships with other characters at various points. Since this is a long one, if you'd rather read it as a document, you can view it here: Google Doc version.

"She actually really cares about these talent shows": Episode 8 (Box 953)

In the early episodes of Season 1, Minkowski is presented (largely through Eiffel's unreliable perspective) purely as a strict no-nonsense authority figure without much emotional depth, the kind of person who only likes things that are useful, purposeful, or mandated by Command. In contrast, musical theatre is a creative pursuit that has nothing to do with the mission of the Hephaestus and is viewed by many people as fairly frivolous or silly. The gradual exploration of Minkowski's passion for musicals is one of the many ways that the show expands and challenges our understanding of her as a character.

The first indication that we get of her interest in musicals is through her entry into the infamous talent show, something that is required as part of the mission. Minkowski really cares about 'crew morale' activities in general, even when they actually have a negative effect on morale and even before she's friends with any of her crew (for example, the Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners in the earlier stage of the mission), perhaps partly because doing things in the "right way" is important to her.

But Eiffel senses that the talent shows aren't just about rules for her: "it’s bad enough when she makes us do something just because it’s military protocol, but I think that she actually really cares about these talent shows". This might be the first indication that we get of Minkowski caring deeply about anything that isn't inherently part of her role as a Commander. Moments like this are part of the gradual process of giving us insight into her character beyond the Commander archetype that she tries to embody. And yet, she only indulges her theatrical passion because something mandatory gives her permission, or an excuse, to let another part of herself out.

Of course, to satisfy the needs of a talent show, she'd only need to provide a performance of a few minutes. But Eiffel mentions "the second act of the play" - which along with Hera's comment that "Isabel isn't the biggest role in the play" - implies that Minkowski was intending to put on the whole of Pirates of Penzance as her talent show act, rather than a few of the songs or some kind of medley. (I suppose that Eiffel could be exaggerating or Minkowski might have been planning to do extracts from different parts of the play, but I prefer the interpretation in which Minkowski gets to be more ridiculous.)

Even though no one else would be willing to be in her production of Pirates of Penzance, Minkowski casts Hera as Isabel, a role with two lines and no solo singing. I found some audition notes for this play which said "The traditional staging gives [Isabel] more prominence than the solo opportunities of the part suggest, so she must be a good actress" which does make me sad in relation to Hera's inability to have a more significant role by being physically present on stage.

It’s sweet that Hera still wants to take part though. She tells Eiffel "Pirates of Penzance is a classic of 19th century comic opera", so either she’s absorbed what Minkowski has told her about the show, or she’s done her own research and formed her own opinions. I enjoy the fact that Hera is the one Hephaestus crew member who shows potential to share Minkowski's musical theatre appreciation; I like to think that this is something they could explore together post-canon.

Anyway, I'm obsessed with the idea that Minkowski was planning to play every character except one in Pirates of Penzance, a show which is designed to have 10 principal characters and a chorus of 14 men. It seems that her contribution to the talent show was supposed to be an entire two-hour two-act musical, with costumes and props, in which she would play almost all of the parts. This is very funny to me as the perhaps predictable consequence of giving an ambitious and frustrated grown-up theatre kid a position of authority and asking them to arrange a talent show. Minkowski knows that the audience will be made up of her subordinates who are theoretically obliged by the chain of command to watch and listen, so she absolutely tries to make the most of that opportunity. There's probably also a degree to which she limits other people's involvement in her musical because - as with her other endeavors - she wants the outcome to be almost entirely within her control (something that is usually pretty much impossible in as collaborative a medium as musical theatre).

Of course, Minkowski's behaviour in most of the talent show episode is affected by her being drugged by Hilbert. This creates an exaggerated situation which is the first real opportunity for Minkowski to be something other than the strict sensible authoritarian Commander and the foil to Eiffel's jokey laid-back attitude. I don't agree with ideas that being intoxicated brings out anyone's true self (especially in the absence of consent for the intoxication), but it seems pretty clear that being under the influence of whatever was in Hilbert's concoction caused Minkowski to fully commit to a level of manic enthusiasm for her musical production that might have otherwise been obscured by her professionalism. It's a particular kind of person who belts showtunes when drunk, and Minkowski is that kind of person, even if that's not how she wants to present herself. (As a sidenote, I seem to remember that they took Emma Sherr-Ziarko's script off her to help her sound more drunk. It's an excellent performance.)

Minkowski wants interval ice cream. She wants "pirate costumes" (and she'll threaten to shoot a man to get them). She wants "swashes and buckles". She wants whatever props she can get her hands on (including a real cannon). This show is important to her, even though only three other people will witness it and two of them actively don't want to be there. It’s important to her for its own sake.

Eiffel says Minkowski wants "a second pair of eyes to tell her if the prop sabre for her Major-General costume was a bit much…" While I certainly wouldn't put it past Goddard Futuristics to have a prop sabre on the station for no apparent reason, it feels more likely that she might have made it or adapted some existing item. Which suggests that maybe she was that passionate about the props even before Hilbert drugged her.

Even so, it does feel significant that Minkowski's love of musicals is only revealed in the episode in which she is drugged, exhibiting lowered inhibitions, exaggerated behaviour, and an "impaired euphoric effect". Her love of musical theatre is initially revealed through a professional structure that provides permission, and then further emphasised by a forced intoxication that exaggerates some impulses that perhaps she already had.

"Some hobbies other than making trains run on time": Episode 17 (Bach to the Future)

After Eiffel tells to find Minkowski to find something else to do while her work duties have quietened down, they have the following exchange:

EIFFEL: You must have some hobbies other than making trains run on time. Something to do with friends? Boyfriends? MINKOWSKI: Of course I do, but, well, there aren't really a lot of opportunities for rock climbing or trail hiking in the immediate vicinity.

Even though this quote doesn't mention musicals, I've included it here for two reasons. Firstly, it's very funny to me that, even after the talent show debacle, Eiffel acts like he's never had any evidence of Minkowski's hobbies. She tried to perform a whole play almost single-handedly and it didn't occur to him that this might indicate an interest of hers outside of work. I think this reflects the fairly two-dimensional view that Eiffel has previously had of Minkowski, which her interest in musical theatre didn't fit into.

Secondly, it feels notable that Minkowski doesn't mention musical theatre here. She wants to show that she has non-work interests, but without undermining her own authoritative image. Her interest in rock climbing and trail hiking - while it may be genuine - fits with how she wants to be seen as a Commander. These are hobbies which portray her as physically capable, with a high degree of stamina and a willingness to adapt to perhaps less hospitable surroundings. Of course, Minkowski does have these traits and they serve her well on the Hephaestus. But there's not really anything particularly surprising about her expressing these interests. The surprise in this scene comes from the reveal that she has a husband, a character detail which - like her love of musicals - isn't something we'd necessarily expect from the archetype-based view of her we are initially presented with.

Her interest in rock climbing and trail hiking never come up again, because these details don't really deepen her characterisation (or at least, they aren't really used to deepen her characterisation beyond proving that she isn't entirely all-work-and-no-play). In contrast, Minkowski's love of musicals is brought up over and over because it shows another side of her that she struggles to reveal on the Hephaestus, and that allows more interesting things to be done with her characterisation.

"You wanted to write showtunes": Episode 35 (Need to Know)

Alongside the more high stakes discoveries prompted by the leak from Kepler's files, we also learn that Minkowski applied to - and was rejected from - the Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program.

Up until this point, we've only had evidence that Minkowski enjoys performing in musicals. But here we learn that Minkowski doesn't just love watching or performing in musicals - she wanted to write them too. This suggests a creative side to her that we never see her fully express.

The course

The Tisch Graduate Musical Theatre Writing Program claims to be the only course of its kind in the world and it accepts just 30 students each year. The current application process requires applicants to: upload play scripts or recordings of songs they've written; answer a large number of extended response questions about their creative process and views on musical theatre; write a 'statement of purpose' which has to talk about why they are applying and include 3 original ideas for musicals; provide a professional resume and a digital portfolio; complete an exercise of writing in response to a prompt; and undergo an interview. The process might have changed somewhat since Minkowski would have been applying (which, if it was soon after she finished college, might have been around the early 2000s) or it might be different in Wolf 359's alternate universe, but I think we can safely assume that applying to this course was a serious undertaking that required an intense amount of commitment and work.

Applying to a course like that isn't something you do half-heartedly or on a whim. You couldn't apply to this course if you hadn't done a fair amount of musical theatre writing already. (The course requires applicants to choose to apply as bookwriters, lyricists, or composers, but I'm not going to make a guess here as to which of these Minkowski went for.) The fact that Minkowski wanted to study this course suggests that she was seriously considering trying to make a career out of musical theatre writing. In Once In A Lifetime, she tells Cutter that commanding a space station has always been her dream job, but we've got evidence here that it wasn't her only dream job. There's something kind of funny and kind of sad about the idea that writing musicals was her back-up / fall-back career path. She does not like to make life easy for herself.

The revelation

This information is revealed against Minkowski's will. It's not something she wanted people to find out, and she isn't happy about them knowing:

JACOBI: "Dear Renée, thank you for your interest in the Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program..." MINKOWSKI: Oh, come on! JACOBI: (pressing on) "We are sorry to say, we will not be able to offer you a spot in this year's blah blah blah." Oh this is too good. You wanted to write showtunes? MINKOWSKI: Number one? Shut up. Number two, why are my personal records on there?! [...] How is it in any way relevant?! JACOBI: Oh, I think it's very relevant. I mean, if you're sending someone to pilot ships in deep space, you want to make sure that they can, you know... paint with all the colors of the wind. Jacobi CRACKS UP - and, although to a lesser degree, so does Lovelace. Minkowski looks at her: really? LOVELACE: Sorry, Minkowski. It's... it's a little funny. MINKOWKSI: No, it isn't!

Minkowski seems defensive and embarrassed here. She obviously doesn't trust everyone there with this revelation (Jacobi, Maxwell, Lovelace, and Hera are all present). She considers this information to be "personal" and irrelevant and not even "a little funny". She's used to reactions like Jacobi's (and to a lesser extent Lovelace's); in Ep41 Memoria, she says "most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals" (see below for more thoughts about this quote). But the fact that these mocking reactions are expected doesn't mean that they don't bother her. She wants so badly to be taken seriously and, in this scene, her interest in musical theatre seems to be incompatible with that. Jacobi reacts the way that he does because of the idea that I've already expressed, that a passion for musical theatre does not fit with the serious authoritative image that Minkowski has often presented. It's not the typical hobby of a soldier, especially not a Commander.

To me, the way Lovelace laughs suggests that she might not have previously known about Minkowski's love of musicals, or at least perhaps not the full extent of it. At any rate, it's definitely news to Jacobi. And Minkowski clearly hasn't talked about it enough for it not to feel like a big reveal for her.

The rejection

It's notable that this reveal is not just that she wanted to write for the stage, but also that she failed to get into a course that might have helped her work towards that goal. This of course compounds Minkowski's discomfort at having this information revealed. Not only did she want to write showtunes, but she encountered rejection in her attempts to do so. This detail implies that perhaps it wasn't just the appeal of her spacefaring dream that stopped her going down a theatrical career path.

I'm about to move more into headcanon territory rather than just straightforward analysis, but I personally believe that, while Minkowski auditioned for a lot of musicals (particularly as a child / young person), she was never cast as the main role. She seems embarrassed about her interest in musical theatre in a way that (at least judging by people I've encountered) people who were always the lead in their school / college productions don't tend to be.

We don't have much evidence about her actual level of singing/acting ability, given that she is inebriated during the only time we hear her sing in the podcast. However, it resonates with other aspects of her characterisation to imagine that Minkowski was generally good enough to get an ensemble part but never quite good enough to be cast as a main part. I think she might see only ever being cast as part of the ensemble, and failing to get into the Tisch Musical Theatre Writing programme, as slightly more down-to-earth examples of the same pattern as her repeated rejections from NASA. She is desperate to prove herself. She is "someone who very much wants to matter. To do something important." When she casts herself as almost every part in Pirates of Penzance, she is finally taking the opportunity to be a main character, an opportunity which I imagine had been denied to her over and over in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

"It's just from a play I saw once": Episode 41 (Memoria)

The next scene I want to talk about is from a memory of Hera's, which took place on Day 57 of the Hephaestus mission and in which Minkowski appears to be talking about the Stephen Sondheim musical Sunday in the Park with George:

MINKOWSKI: Oh, it's just from a play I saw once. It doesn't matter. (BEAT) The guy who sings it is this famous French painter. And his entire life is kinda falling apart. But he can always turn what's happening around him into these beautiful paintings. HERA: And? MINKOWSKI: And... That's, I don't know. Reassuring, maybe? (BEAT) I don't know why I'm going on about this. You don't care. HERA: I think it's interesting. MINKOWSKI: Yeah? Most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals. HERA: I don't see what's funny about it. MINKOWSKI: Well, thank you Hera, but you're not exactly... you know. HERA: I'm not... what?

There's a couple of different things I want to pick out from this exchange. Firstly, the line "Most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals" makes me sad. I don't think she's talking about people on the Hephaestus there. Judging by the quote I talked about from Bach to the Future, Eiffel definitely wouldn't have registered Minkowski's love of musicals at this stage, and I doubt Hilbert cares at all about the hobbies of his fellow crew members. So Minkowski is talking about experiences that she's had on Earth, of people mocking her interest in musicals and thinking it doesn't fit with who she is. You can hear the impact of those experiences in Minkowski's reluctance to elaborate, in the way she says that something she obviously cares about doesn't matter, in her assumption that Hera doesn't care.

Secondly, this scene is a complicated one for Minkowski and Hera's relationship. On the one hand, Minkowski freely talks to Hera about something she's passionate about, and Hera listens and expresses interest. Hera validates Minkowski's interest in musical theatre without making a thing of it being weird and Minkowski thanks her. Again, it’s shown as an interest they could could potentially share.

But on the other hand, it seems like part of the reason Minkowski feels able to open up to Hera is because at this point Minkowski doesn't see opening up to Hera as fully equivalent to opening up to a fellow human. She doesn't just accept Hera not making fun of her interest; instead it seems Minkowski is about to imply that this lack of judgment indicates Hera's difference from humans (although she does have the decency not to say it outright). Minkowski's expectation of judgment from others contributes to her saying something very hurtful to Hera here. (This kind of potential consequence of negative self-attitude is explored a lot with Eiffel, so it's interesting that Minkowski can sometimes have a similar issue.)

Minkowski and Hera's conversation is interrupted when:

The DOOR OPENS. EIFFEL: Hey, Minkowski, we've - What are you guys talking about? MINKOWSKI: We were just discussing how I'm going to take away your hot water privileges if you don't reset the long-range scan.

Eiffel can obviously tell that he's walked in on a conversation that is about something other than work, or he wouldn't have asked. But Minkowski actively chooses not to tell him that she was talking to Hera about musicals. Perhaps she doesn't know how to open up to a human subordinate about it. Perhaps she doesn't trust him not to make fun of her. Perhaps she just doesn't have any impulse to talk about her interests with him. Either way, if Minkowski's love of musicals is something which reflects a side of her personality outside of her Commander role, this is a moment where she chooses not to take an opportunity to share that side of herself with Eiffel. This reflects the emotional distance between them three months into the mission, which forms a nice contrast with the next couple of quotes I'm going to talk about.

"Composition. Balance. Harmony.": Episode 54 (The Watchtower)

When Eiffel comes directly face to face with alien life, he discovers that music is the human invention that fascinates the Dear Listeners:

EIFFEL: You haven't figured out music? BOB: ORDER. DESIGN. TENSION. COMPOSITION. BALANCE. HARMONY. EIFFEL: (low, to himself) Minkowski's been talking about Sondheim again…

I only learned in the course of writing this post that in this moment the Dear Listeners are almost exactly quoting a repeated phrase used throughout Sunday in the Park with George. The titular protagonist lists various combinations of these qualities in multiple songs in reference to his art. In the closing song, the lyrics are "Order. Design. Tension. Composition. Balance. Light. [...] Harmony." It's not only Eiffel's references that the Dear Listeners are incorporating into their speech - they've picked this one up from Minkowski. This also suggests that some element of her appreciation for musicals and the way she talks about them has fed into the Dear Listeners' understanding of the human phenomenon of music. The Dear Listeners aren't just parroting - they understood the quote enough that they left out the word "light", arguably the only quality in that phrase which isn't a big part of music as well as visual art. Eiffel likes music too, but I don't think that this is how he'd talk about his favourite songs.

This is a refrain about finding order and beauty out of the chaos and uncertainty of life, which was also the aspect of Sunday in the Park with George that Minkowski focused on when talking about it in Memoria. It suggests that art/music could be something governed by rules and principles, which is potentially something that appeals both to Minkowski and to the Dear Listeners.

Eiffel's response to this reference is one of those little hints that reminds us that Eiffel and Minkowski have spent a lot of time together and that not all of that time has involved them being at each others' throats or actively in a life-or-death situation. Some of it has just been Minkowski going on about a musical she loves and Eiffel (willingly or not) paying enough attention that he recognises this phrase as a Sondheim quote that Minkowski has talked about. I suppose that this quote might have been in Eiffel's pop-culture-brain anyway, but judging from Eiffel's general tastes and the fact that I don't think Sunday in the Park with George is one of the more commonly known Sondheim musicals among non-musical fans, it seems more likely that this quote is something he only knows because Minkowski has talked about it.

Eiffel sounds exasperated at the mention, like he's heard Minkowski talk about Sondheim far too much. But I'd argue that this still says something positive about their relationship, when we contrast it with a couple of other moments I've already mentioned. Firstly, when her previous musical theatre ambitions are revealed to Jacobi, Maxwell, and Lovelace in Need to Know, Minkowski seems embarrassed and defensive. Secondly, in the memory from Memoria, she avoids telling Eiffel that she was talking about this same musical. Yet, by the time The Watchtower takes place, Eiffel is sick of hearing Minkowski talk about Sondheim. She doesn't have the same barriers up in sharing her interests with him, even though he doesn't have the same interests. I think this is a demonstration of how comfortable she feels with him. It's a hint at the kind of easy downtime that they've sometimes shared.

"One day more": Episode 61 (Brave New World)

Eiffel recognises another musical reference of Minkowski’s in the finale. As the crew are preparing for their final confrontation with Cutter and co., Minkowski quotes Les Misérables, mostly to herself - but Eiffel recognises the lyrics and joins in:

EIFFEL: Hey - chin up, soldier. We're almost through. Just one more day, and then we're done. MINKOWSKI: Yeah, one more day. (more to herself) The time is now, the place is here - one day more. EIFFEL: - one day more. They both stop, dead in their tracks. MINKOWSKI: Did you just - ? EIFFEL: Was that what I - ? They look at each other: No way. And BURST INTO LAUGHTER. EIFFEL: Man... this is really it, huh? The end of everything.

It feels really important that Minkowski and Eiffel share this moment of togetherness before she tries to send him back to Earth and before the rest of the action goes down. I think there’s some nice symbolism about them finding a way to communicate that they both understand. Making references is Eiffel's thing, and musicals are Minkowski's thing, so this is a synthesis of their two approaches. Again, there's a contrast with Minkowski's previous unwillingness to share her musical theatre passions with Eiffel (at least without the mitigating circumstances of a mandatory talent show and some kind of intoxicating substance).

I talked about the significance of the fact that they reference this particular musical in this post from ages ago. I don't think it's too much of a spoiler for Les Misérables to say that the revolution that the song One Day More is building up to does not end well for the revolutionaries. When Eiffel says "Just one more day, and then we're done", it encompasses both the possibility that the crew will escape to travel back to Earth and the possibility that they will all die. Minkowski's reference to a famously tragic musical suggests that it's the latter possibility that's at the forefront of her mind (right before she tries to send Eiffel away from the danger). But Les Misérables is also a story about people standing together in solidarity against powerful oppressive forces, which gives particular resonance to the way that this reference brings Eiffel and Minkowski together in a moment of being completely on the same wavelength as they prepare to fight Cutter and Pryce's plan.

When they laugh here, it's not about the 'hilariousness' of Minkowski's interest in musicals, it's about their unexpected unison - Eiffel's recognition of Minkowski's reference and Minkowski's surprise at the fact he joined in. It's a laugh of togetherness, of shared understanding, of friendship. It's a moment of lightness in dark times. And that moment is provided by Minkowski's pop culture interests, not Eiffel's. In spite of all they've been through, she's not lost that part of herself, and in fact, she's more open about it, at least to Eiffel.

I'll finish by highlighting what Eiffel says when he's trying to get into character to impersonate Minkowski so he can turn the Sol around:

EIFFEL: Umm... yes, this is Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski. I'm... uh... well I sure love schedules, and, uh, musicals. And that man, who I married…

I just think this is a nice example of Eiffel not defining Minkowski solely by her professional Commander role. Sure, she likes schedules (probably in a personal as well a professional capacity to be fair), but she also loves musicals, and her husband. It is a fairly reductive overview of her as a person, but it feels reductive in a fond way, like these things are part of Minkowski's brand to Eiffel in a way that he might affectionately tease her about. (Credit to @commsroom for this thought.) His view of Minkowski has come a long way from "our resident Statsi agent" or even just "you must have some hobbies other than making trains run on time." He doesn't see any contradiction or inherent humour in Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski's appreciation of musicals.

Conclusion

Minkowski's love of musical theatre is used to deepen her characterisation and is one of the ways in which we gradually begin to see her complexity beyond the strict Commander archetype. The degree to which she is prepared to share this interest at various points is used to illustrate the nature of her relationships with other characters: a general unwillingness to show a less serious side of herself; a complicated potential shared interest with Hera; and the growing understanding between her and Eiffel.

If you read this whole thing, well done / thank you 😄 It wasn't meant to be this long - it just happened… Feel free to share your thoughts!

#It's Minkowski Essay Time again!#This is over 4700 words and still doesn't cover it all...#I hadn't quite realised there was so much to say!#Wolf 359 #w359 #If anyone is more familiar with 'Sunday in the Park with George' and has thoughts on why it might particularly appeal to Minkowski #I'd be interested to hear #I listened to the soundtrack and read the Wikipedia plot summary #but I don't think I really got it #My other significant bit of research was that #in order to see what applying to the Tisch Graduate Musical Theatre Writing Program involves #I had to create an account as if I was actually applying #which might be the oddest thing I've done for character analysis #If it interests anyone I could do a post with more detail about that application process #cos it looks insanely intense #Renée Minkowski #Renee Minkowski #the empty man posteth #I hope no one takes things I have said here as critical of musical theatre people btw #I'm just talking about general perceptions #In general I do enjoy musicals myself from an audience perspective

196 notes · View notes

neurodivergentbraingoblins · 8 months

Text

Story time about how being "inclusive" is often used as pretty jewlery to make workplaces seem less shitty than they are.

So I used to work for a place that did workers compensation claims. I was a data entry worker - essentially my job was to processes all incoming and outgoing documents and make sure they digitally got attached to the correct claim so other people could do their job.

I had been working at this place for about 6 months, and we had a MASSIVE turnover in people. Like over half my team/coworkers quit. Well, I just happened to be really, really good at data entry work. My pattern recognition skills and OCD compulsions were a perfect fit for this job. Even management constantly would say how impressed they were with the amount of work I could get done.

Here's the problem - the 2 other people who didn't quit during the turnover were my superiors. They had problems with the way I communicate (AuDHD). So instead of dealing with it, they openly harassed me in group chats. Our boss would see the chats and then call them out on it and tell them to stop.

Fast forward a few months later. Shit is getting crazy for our company as we were expanding. I'm getting harassed constantly by all my "teammates" and from higher ups. I go to HR about the concern and they decide to have me just directly report to our boss. But the problem wasn't solved. I still had to work with and ask questions to the team who obviously hated me. Simply because I communicate and work differently than I do. I was always willing to help them get caught up on work, but never the other way around.

So I've been at this place for about a year now and I'm testing a brand new method of cataloging data to the correct files. (Example- adding medical records for a specific person to their specific digital file so the adjuster assigned to the claim can review it). Turns out something broke with the process and over 700 files were lost.

So I get pulled into a very sudden meeting with me, the 2 teammembers who were my superiors and my boss. They are freaking out trying to figure out how to fix this. When I could finally get a chance to speak I told them I had backups of most of the files. They all went silent and just stared at me.

I explained that the way the process worked gave me anxiety because of this very potential issue. Once the files were uploaded to the claims, they were deleted from the storage location. Gone permanently. I didnt want to be the one responsible for losing important documents if something when wrong, so as a precaution (and a newly developed OCD compulsion) I would save most files to a different folder as a backup (usually just the files I had to convert from one format (ex: word doc) to a PDF).

Turns out I ended up saving the company thousands of dollars and thousands of work hours. My boss literally said to my face "your OCD saved the day! You're a hero!". The very next day everyone was back to being upset at me for how I did my job 😅

Well, over the course of my year there, management put together a COMPANY WIDE MANDATORY meeting about inclusivity and anti-discrimination. Of course I attended and I was having to hold back tears and laughter as everyone made all these promises to not judge people and to be open to "other working styles". The meeting was a 5 hour long meeting with different games and activities. You could tell the company execs were so proud of themselves for the meeting.

The very next day I received the perfect example of what NOT to do from my own boss who helped lead the company meeting! Essentially she heard a rumor that I was setting up meetings with other departments to work on things that hadn't been approved through the proper channels. She pulled me into a virtual meeting and, I kid you not, lectured me for 5 minutes straight about how that wasn't allowed. When I finally got a chance to speak I calmly told her I'd never done anything like that before. I admitted that occasionally I would ask someone else questions in a random email here or there when it related to what we were talking about. But I had never done any of the things she just accused me of and lectured me about. She was "assuming the worst and the negative instead of something positive" which was one of the core values we had spent almost an hour on at the meeting the day before.

I immediately went to HR crying. What was the point of that ridiculous mandatory meeting if the company superiors were still going to discriminate against me??? Well after a year of putting in hard work for them, fighting against all the harassment they threw at me, and doing my best to advocate for myself I ended up quiting. It was an amazing paying full time (40hr) job that fit my skills perfectly. But I had to quit because I couldn't stand listening to them say "we love your OCD and it really helps the company, but you need to stop doing things that way. It is really annoying and takes too long. Plus your coworkers don't like it. But keep giving us those same results! You really are our best worker!"

My OCD was turned into a joke. Something that was only okay when it benefitted them, but a disgusting trait to hide away when it didn't.

Tldr: I gave a year of my life to a company that outwardly toted being "inclusive" while simultaneously being harassed for my OCD and AuDHD symptoms. All while being told my "OCD saves the company money but like, can you please stop doing things that way? Thanks!"

#actually ocd #ocd #obsessive compulsive disorder #actually adhd #actually autistic #actually audhd #adhd adult #adhd brain #adhd #autistic adult #autistic #inclusivity #discrimination #disability #disabled #physical disability #physically disabled #mentally disabled #mental disability

91 notes · View notes

yourlocallovesickie · 1 year

Note

I saw your doc ock post!!! I also just got into him!!! Ummm idk if you’re still writing but really anything regarding him as the recipient of stuffing, farting, diarrhea, and/or constipation would be great!!! Thank you!!!

(sorry that this is so late! hopefully its worth it, ive been very busy but also writing this on and off for a while. Thank you for the request it was a lot of fun :) enjoy!)

BEFORE YOU READ! This story contains lots of scat, stuffing, and m@sturb*tion, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+ i indulged myself a little more than usual lol

Doc rubbed his stomach, or at least tried with that annoying metal band in the way. He'd definitely never really been skinny, and the suit was designed to fit his body, but after the explosion it seemed to have clamped down onto him, and especially now that he was bloated; rolls of his tummy sticking out from the top and bottom of the belt. His poor stomach was pressing so hard on it the metal was bowing ever-so-slightly. The rubbing didn't help the ache, the only response from his gut being a horrible cramp and gurgle, weeks of trapped gas and waste and now what was probably a weeks-worth of cheap snack food swirling around. Being a super-villain you don't really have the best dietary options and can only really eat what you can steal, and primarily from gas stations unless you want to cause a scene over some steak. Another cramp surged through his intestines and he bent over to give room while he flexed his asshole with a grunt, pushing and pushing until his guts felt like they were going to burst. Nothing. Not even a fart. There had to be some way he could get things going, he'd been stuck in his lair barely making any progress on his generator because of this stupid bellyache, and it only seemed to get worse. But it wasn't like he could just stop eating! Then, he got an idea.

One of his four giant metal actuators crept over to the small fridge in the corner of the room; one of the many things he had invented to accomodate his stay in the ruins of his lab. The actuator opened it, and Otto was happy to find a full carton of milk. He'd gotten a little lactose intolerant as the years went by, not bad just enough to give him a solid case of the runs and some gas for a while, which he would gladly take on for relief. Another cramp shot through his gut, sending a gurgle out through his bowels. Excitedly, he bored down with his hands on his knees and pushed. His asshole gaped open, kissing the insides of his underwear, but again nothing. He groaned and opened the carton, ready to just chug it straight out. He didn't have any clean dishes anyway.

With the fullness in his stomach, which seemed already packed to the brim, the milk was not going down easy. Every few gulps he'd have to let off to calm down the nausea starting to build, and let out a few milky burps that only end up making him feel fuller. If before he was bloated, by half the carton was gone he was huge. His stomach gurgled nonstop, and he sat idly on the ground, milk in hand and a pack of crackers to help it wash down as his stomach expanded around the belt, coming over it on the sides with a red, angry hue. The pain was unbearable. Gurgles and groans that sounded sicker and sicker by the minute filled the room, accompanied with his animalistic grunts and curses as he desperately tried to get something out. He could feel the milk begin to seep into everything he had eaten, and then finally! Moving down his intestine. He could feel the burning inside him, and knew that his next load if it ever came was going to be liquid, but he looked forward to it if it meant he could actually poop. He didn't remember the last time he unloaded but it had definitely been over a week, maybe more. And he was usually a pretty consistent guy.

As the hours went by he had finally finished the jug and now sat on the floor, hands desperately kneading into his stomach as he let out dry burps and moaned through cramps. The milk was starting to run through his system, the pressure that once lie under his belt now pressing against some mass behind his asshole. Crawling on the floor, he threw his ass into the air, uncaring that he was still wearing pants and underwear, and pushed with everything he had. The mass moved maybe a centimeter.

"Come on..." he grunted to himself, and pushed again, feeling all of the hot mush in his rectum push against the hard turd. He was sweating now, teeth grit and eyes screwed shut as he lay unabashedly with his legs spread wide. He guessed he couldnt get anymore embarrassed than this, and two of his metal arms flew down to remove his pants. He hooked his naked legs over his arms and scooted down into place, his other arms steadied himself against the wall, holding him up as he shook and strained. Inch by inch, he could feel the hot liquid shit forcing the mass through his bowels, working him so hard he was breaking a bit of a sweat. "Please--" He grunted as hard as he could, flexing his asshole once more and a small pocket of air around the turd squirted out of him, blasting a jet of hot warm stink onto the floor in front of him.

His guts roiled, pushing desperately to get more out. He grunted and groaned, sounding somewhat primal as his eyebrows furrowed and face turned red in concentration. Several short and slightly damp farts shot out, each one carrying the mass a little more until it was finally resting against his asshole. He took a deep breath before giving it one final push, asshole puckering to reveal the large brown lump inside him, which didn't move. His guts groaned and churned around it, pushing the diarrhea that rest snugly behind it forward and compacting it even harder against the clog in his system. Trapped gas squelched and his eyes were starting to grow wet. Along with the strain, the embarrassment of the situation was very very real, even alone having his naked ass exposed like this felt alien.

The pressure in his stomach got worse, and the bottom of his belly and bowels bloated up, the pressure from the belt creating an even worse pain so bad he felt he would pop. He had to do something, and as another unsuccessful push traveled through his guts he grew desperate. His legs hiked up farther, and one arm came down to rest by his ass, hesitating. Was he really about to do this?

Gggrrgllgg... His stomach answered him, twisting in an agonizing affirmation, and his asshole was forced open another time. His fingers ventured inside, the rim wet and soft from forcing out what little gas he could, and lubing itself up to prepare for what was cooking in his guts. His middle finger slipped inside, and the foreign sensation made it feel like he was already messing himself, but he quickly found the log blocking said fate. It was hard and round inside him, stretching past the walls of his colon and stopping him up good. He knew there was no way he would be able to fit his fingers around the turd to pull it out, so instead he resigned to breaking it up. The sensation of having his fingers stuffed in his own ass, literally about to dig the shit out had already given him quite a tall erection, and he used some of the precum beginning to spit out of his cock as lube before venturing back into his hole.

The sensations were incredible; the pressure of his diarrhea crammed up behind the monster of a log he was currently dismantling, the sexuality of his fingers sliding in and out of his own butt, his massive erection steadily pumping thick hot precum out on his thighs... Even the actuators began to purr and click as they held his position on the floor for him. 20-30 minutes passed and the log was finally venturing closer and closer to the exit, now in still very large but easier to push out chunks. Sliding his finger out from his ass one last time, giving his aching belly and encouraging pat, and moaning out an even more encouraging grunt, Otto began pushing again. His asshole bloomed open, sore and irritated, and he could feel several large knobs of solid feces begin sliding out, fast. Wet farts forced themselves out, pushing his turds to go even faster until one exceptionally juicy fart was plugged by a soft, wet 'ppllrrfffbbt' as his asshole stretched around the first turd. His stomach groaned, the belt forcing even more pressure than he was applying as a hard, slippery shit shot from his asshole, letting out a series of wet sharts that stained the dark floor of his lair with a muddy brown. The turd fell on the floor, resting beneath his asscheeks with a soft noise unheard over the crackling of the rest of his load and his grunting. His face was certainly red from the struggle, and sweat rolled down his face as he filled the room with animalistic moans. His hole didn't even have time think about closing to rest before two more turds were forcing their way out, nudging over the first one to make room in their pile on the floor.

The bottom of Otto's asscheeks were smeared a dirty brown, and the whole room smelled of shit, an odd turn-on the physicist found as another hot smelly jet of farts covered the pile. The pressure was slightly better, but his stomach roiled and bowels moaned, and he knew he was nowhere close to finished. The next load that slid out of his hole was significantly softer and more malleable, pockets of chunky brown liquid sliding out the sides of each piece of mushy shit. The release was incredible; more than a weeks worth of waste all forcing its way out of him at once. As his asshole bloomed harder, forcing a small spurt of shit that began a trickling stream of thick diarrhea, he took one hand to his hard cock. Slowly, he began pumping it, and his moans of pain and grunts of relief turned into those of pleasure.

By this time he was having full on diarrhea, the milk having degraded all of the shit in his body to a thick, chunky liquid like a chowder. His legs were raised in the air, asshole on full display as it worked, the lips blooming open to kiss out more disgusting mud. The sounds were much louder and wetter, his farts becoming more frequent and intense, blasting chunk after chunk of poop all over the floor in front of him, going feet past the huge pile he'd created. Each wet noise from his body send a throbbing wave of arousal through his cock and stroked up the base, sending him closer and closer to coming, but he had more to go.

His ass squirted steadily for about 3 or 4 minutes, and by the time it finally tapered down his poor abused hole felt like fire. He actually had to push to get the final chunks out; mostly just degraded sludge and loud, hot farts. His stomach felt empty, a welcome feeling considering the past week and more of pain, and he realized how hungry he actually felt. Looking down at his pile, or more a smear, of poo he thought about how full he'd felt, and how bloated. All of that having been stored up inside him, brewing and going soft in his rectum. The idea sent him over the edge. At the same time the very last slippery turd slid out of his butt into the shitcastle, his cock throbbed and thick, hearty ropes of cum spurted out of it, adding what appeared to be whipped cream to a hot fudge sundae. With one last, airy fart splitting open his asscheeks, he laid down completely on the floor beside his pile, absolutely exhausted. One of his actuators crawled up, almost seeming embarrassed as it presented him a napkin, and upon his go-ahead, slinked around his legs to wipe up his ass. It was beyond disgusting, coated in diarrhea and would definitely smell awful for a while, as would the rest of his lair. He just hoped it wouldn't hinder him too much as so he couldn't focus on his project, now that he could finally get back to it.

#scat tw #coprophilia #my writing #sickfic prompt #bloating #fart kink #farting #eproctophilia #diarrhea #sickfic #fanfic #doc ock #stomach ache #tummy ache #dont let this flop #Please i worked hard #scat writing #coprophilous

202 notes · View notes

amethystfairy1 · 2 months

Note

Ttsbc glamor, I have a few different questions about it because it's something very cool

What is the weakest type of species that has glamor? I know it changes depending on the person, like Tango glamor being weaker compared to the average blazeborn, but on average, who has the weakest glamor?

Can you change the speed at how fast you can shoot glamor out of your hands? We know it can be shot as fast lighting bullets to play tag, and they can be normal bullets.

Can you change the size of the bullet of glamor you shoot (I'm going to assume you can but still)

Can you slowly release glamor, so it's like a trail? Kinda like when Disney Channel will take the magic wand and draw micky mouses head, then it will show up ?? (Or like produce fireworks type of design in the air using glamor?

Can you shoot glamor using other body parts besides your hands? (For example, your eyes or your toes?)

When glamor releases from the hand outwards, does that glamor slowly fade as it goes through the air, or does it stay the same strength until it hits impact with something? Also, what happens once the bolt of glamor hits something? Does it hit the object and splat, then fade, or does it hit like a bullet, and the impact will slow it down, then it fades out?

Does glamor leave marks? Like, I think you said it can leave bruises and stuff, but do the bruises look a little different than normal? (If your glamor malfunctions and you try and shoot it out, can you bruise your fingers?)

When you use glamor to hide body parts that don't want to be seen does it fade from top to bottem, bottem to top, fades everything at the same time or does it not fade at all and it just disappears like it was never there?

Why does the under city only have glamor and the over city doesn't? I know that the under city finds it important but what did they do for it to happen??

One last question about glamor (hopefully) if a human is holding a hybrid/mutant hand, can that human use their glamor?

I hope these questions made sense (I tend to get sidetracked while writing asks this long), but I wish you well, and I hope you have an amazing day/night/eve!

(One last extra question!)

Did the old main lab scientist from the under city work with the over city? Like the under city does the experiments to keep over city out of trouble and the over city gives them the stuff they need to do the bio technology and they trade out information??

Questions questions questions...

I took awhile to answer this because I wanted to think about it and make sure the answers all lined up and made sense! If I'm vague anywhere keep in mind I do still plan to expand on some of these worldbuildy bits in the stories themselves so I don't wanna spoil everything! 😆

There isn't just one specific subspecies that's much weaker than others, it's more that there's certain subspecies who are particularly good with glamor (blaze-borns, voidwalkers, mushroom mutants) and everyone else hangs around an average. Some subspecies have special skills to do with glamor that are unique to them though! Blaze-borns manipulated fire, avians and butterfly hybrids manipulating weight, that sort of thing...also keep in mind because glamor can't pass through inorganic material people like Doc or Cleo who have large parts of their bodies replaced with augmentations can't use glamor very well!

I mean, I'm sure they could change the density of the glamor bullet and therefore change the speed!

Yes, if you're skilled enough with glamor (like Grian) you can most certainly manipulate the size/affect/color of your glamor! But that's a skill that's on the upper end of glamor ability, Grian is uniquely very very talented with the stuff!

Again, if you're talented enough, have enough glamor, and you've practiced that particular skill, sure you could!

Yes! Once more, it's a talent + practice scenario! It's easiest to use glamor with your hands or fingertips because...I mean, that's where you'd be the most coordinated, but if you wanted to fire from another part of your body you could if you had enough glamor and practiced that specific skill!

Depends on the shooter and what they were trying to do! Grian's bullets as Cute Guy make impact like paintballs! Again though it's the talent + skill + practice scenario, glamor is very versatile and malleable if you've got enough of it and practice a lot!

If a glamor bullet strikes someone it'll leave a bruise like a paintball would! It's the same as any old bruise, the size and how bad it is depends on how powerful the glamor bullet!

It's like heat haze on tarmac! That's my favorite way of describing it in the stories anyway. I also often say that it's like fog growing denser and then turning clear. So basically the haze of glamor, which is tinted the persons natural glamor color, fogs over whatever they want to hide and then fades away, and the thing they wanted to hide won't be visible anymore!

They just have it! They didn't do anything, they've just always had it as long as anyone can remember! It's a trait unique to hybrids/mutants!

Nope! Humans can't use glamor! Hybrids can use their glamor to affect humans, see Jimmy concealing Scott when they went to the under-city together or Grian shooting human criminals with glamor bullets to knock them out, but humans cannot use glamor, no matter what!

No problem! It's neat to try and pick apart the power system a bit, and I want to make it clear that glamor is also something of a catch-all term for powers in the under-city. Tango being able to light things on fire is considered glamor. Shelby's glowing mushroom cap is considered glamor. Voidwalkers purple particles are considered glamor. It's not something that has a super solid set of rules because everyone learns to manipulate it in their own way to suit their needs!

The example I've given before is athletics...if you train super super super hard at a sport, you're going to get quite skilled at it, but you'll always be held back by your physical capabilities. By talent + practice + skill I mean that you need to be born with the capacity for highly skilled glamor usage, you need to practice those particular things to get good at them, and then you need to hone the skills over time! Grian's glamor bullets are a great example. He can manipulate them to kill or stun, he can change their size, density, and color, and he can fire them off in pretty quick succession. He needed to start out with having the glamor capacity to do that, but he also needed to practice and hone that skill!

As for that little bonus questions, I don't wanna confirm or deny anything to do with any relationships between the over-city and under-city in any capacity beyond what we've already seen, it's all spoiler territory and I promise we'll get into that as the AU continues to grow! I've got big plans! 😉

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #through the sky blue cracks #worldbuilding #grian

42 notes · View notes

stitchthesewords · 1 year

Note

hello

Or grian coming back from dl and he needs not only a cane but hes suffering from a bad-but-temporary case of tinnitus and cant get out of bed and no one sees him for a few days until scar comes over to talk bc holy shit dl and finds Grian in need of help

EXPAND UPON THIS. I AM INTRIGUED. if u want no pressure <3

-catmaidetho

WHEEZING WHATS SO FUNNY IS THAT I HAVE BEEN. STARING AT A WORD DOC ALL DAY TRYING TO <- Girl who is so dead from her job

To start w what the delightful @hitheeprithee said to me earlier that made me. Absolutely fucking insane. But Scar gifting one of his canes to Grian in the post-DL return to HC because he's having trouble with both just walking bc of the aches in his body and the dizzyness caused by the disorientation of being shouted apart. And grian tries, really, to be appreciative, but scar's cane doesnt sit at the right height and he's awkward with it so he just stays in bed and then a few days later Scar sheepishly shows up with a custom made cane for Grian that's the right height and has feathers carved into it and just. hhhh.

But its like. Grian having to learn to rely on others. And I mean this in like the. I am physically disabled and im still learinng. You are always learning how to do this. Every day is a new day for failures and learning in this task. And its grian who doesnt want to get out of bed, who's never felt his body be in such constant misery, not even after third life or last life. He went out - bad. I don't have the brain power to elaborate rn maybe I'll reblog this tomorrow but tldr: I headcanon that the deaths in the life series and way different to deaths on hermitcraft. They're permanently debilitating in some way, but the players keep coming back because they learn to cope, they hold tight to the love for each other that radiates through every time they go through it - anyway. This warden death hurts - and Scar is feeling it too, but not as bad, not as Severely, and furthermore he has coping skills in place already for chronic pains and aches and fatigue. Grian doesn't.

It's Scar showing up and adjusting Grian's pillows to help him sit up, nursing him to health with some food and water, an ice pack, a heating pad, some potions from Cub to help with the pains, to help manage. Its Scar teaching Grian to use a cane, to trust his weight to this inanimate object, to learn to use it as an extension of himself. Helping him learn the walking pattern. It's Scar opening up the bedroom window or whatever the fuck the equivalent is in Grian's base to help get some white noise and teaching Grian to focus on it to make the worst of the ringing go away, to massage the muscles in his head to help with the headaches and migraines.

Scar teaching Grian how to pull his weight up with other people, how to get up from the floor with his back hurts so much he can barely move, to shuffle around the room a little bit just to get the blood flowing in his legs.

And then its like. It's Grian leaning his head against Scar's chest and crying from frustration because his body wont cooperate and he's never had to deal with it before and he doesn't know how. And grian apologizing because he's just complaining about things scar lives with always. And Scar soothing Grian's worries and anxieties becaue he knows why grian's frustrated and its not guaranteed to help but by god he'll try, he'll try so hard to give grian the world back if he can.

god I wish i could elaborate more but. I am sleepy.

#Asks #comfortingdecay #mutuals #desert duo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #double life #so I'm normal #Stitch's Writing

93 notes · View notes

istorkyou · 1 year

Text

The Price Of Love (Modern!Ivar AU)

A Modern!Ivar x F Reader

Warnings - See individual chapters. STRICTLY 18+

Synopsis - Money isn’t everything.

Word Count - 1584

Note - This is the second fic I ever wrote and I’m not sure why I never posted it. I think I started writing The Arrangement not long after and kind of fell out of love with this one. Still, it’s been festering in my completed docs for well over a year so I figure I might as well post it 😬 It’s fluffy, and maybe a little cheesy (and by a little I mean a lot!) so if that’s your bag I hope you enjoy it!

Moodboard - The beautiful moodboard is made the magical, amazing @serasvictoria. Thank you so much xxxx

This was beta read by my aussie wife who has left Tumblr. All love, all the time Lou x

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls @youbloodymadgenius @momowhoo @zuxiezendler @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer @pieces-by-me @heavenly1927 @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy @petite-hime @serasvictoria @mimiiinspace @itsmysticalmystery @lonewolf471 @mylifeisactuallyamess @draculasbride-blog @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @redhead7799 @kaybee87 @ivarlover @ivarhoegh @idgafiamallthefandoms @darkphoenix5037 @profoundtyrantharmony @snarling-through-our-smiles @crazyunsexycool @xceafh @bragisrunes@noway4u @batmandallyboy @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73 @meandmycherrytree @mymindfuckery

Masterpost

CHAPTER 15

Nine months of dating Ivar. Nine months of happiness. Nine months of amazing sex. Nine month of love.

The interest in your relationship publicly has definitely reduced, mostly because the pair of you don’t go anywhere the photographers would be. Ivar has adapted to your lifestyle easily and fits into your world perfectly. You still struggle sometimes fitting into his world, but you are getting better at the glitzy parties and rubbing shoulders with the extreme wealth in your city. You much prefer it when you guys do normal things together though.

You have become friends with his brothers, they were easily won over, especially Hvitserk. He and Iris have been on a few dates and he seems besotted with her. She likes him a lot but is being very ‘Iris’ about the whole thing and is playing it cool.

Ubbe is dating someone new and, aside from cracking a couple of jokes in the beginning, leading Ivar to threaten to murder him, in a seriously scary tone, your ‘thing’ is long forgotten.

Since the ball you haven’t seen too much of Aslaug, she has been away, staying in her house in Iceland for months.

She calls you the week she gets home and she comes to visit your shop.

You bond over your mutual love of fashion. She spends a long time looking through all the clothes you stock and buys some dresses and some jewellery.

“You have a really good eye, Y/N. A wonderfully eclectic mix of fashion in stock. Have you thought about expanding? Opening more boutiques across the city?” She asks curiously.

“I have, I am hoping to by the end of next summer, I just need to make sure the business plan is foolproof, find a space, blah blah! It will be a lot of work.”

“I can help, I am always looking to invest in small local businesses…” she trails off and raises her eyebrows.

“Aslaug, without wanting to sound ungrateful, because I really am grateful for the offer, I’ve got my heart set on doing it all by myself.” You give a determined look.

“Although, if you know anyone in real estate that can give me a heads up of any suitable spaces becoming available I will gladly take that help,” you give her a cheeky smile.

“It just so happens I do know some people who could help with that. I will get in touch with them,” she gives you a wink.

“Also, the jeweller who made the bracelet and necklace you bought could maybe use some help, she’s amazing but hasn’t managed to get herself a proper workshop. If you were interested? Her name is Sadie.” You hand Aslaug one of Sadies cards which she slips into her purse.

“You are a very determined young woman, Y/N. I can see why Ivar loves you so much. What time do you lock up the shop? We should go and get cocktails.”

“Yes! I bloody love a good cocktail, come back at 4pm?”

You think you might have finally cracked the cool exterior, Ivar will be so pleased and your heart swells.

—————

You wake up early on Christmas morning and throw on an oversized hoody, before Ivar is stirring and you grab the heavy present on the kitchen counter and head to the elevator.

It opens on the ground floor and you head in over to the reception desk.

“Preston, Happy Christmas!” You shout and laugh as he jumps out of his skin. You hand him over the present.

“What’s this?” He looks in disbelief.

“A pressie, open it!” You are so excited.

He opens the present to see a state of the art coffee machine and his face lights up.

“What? Why? You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N.” His face is tinged with annoyance.

“Oh shush, you always look knackered, we thought you could use it,” you retort.

“Wow, thanks so much, I don’t know what to say.“ He holds his hands up.

“Just a gesture for putting up with Ivar’s rude ass for all these years! Are you going home to your family soon?”

“He’s not so rude anymore.” He tells you with a wink “I finish in 30 minutes,” he says happily. “Happy Christmas, Y/N, thank you.”

“Happy Christmas, have a great day. Hope the twins are happy with their bikes.” You give him a quick hug then head towards the elevator.

When it dings and the door opens Ivar is standing, with his arm above his head looking at the floor and his eyes travel up you until reaching your face and creasing with laughter.

“Will that never get old?!” You ask him in fake annoyance, he knows you find it adorable.

“Happy Christmas, baby! Did Preston like his present?” He asks, pulling you in for a big kiss.

“Yep, he was very happy,” you bury your face in his neck.

“Do you want your present?” Ivar asks with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Is it an orgasm?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Later,” he laughs out, “come on, it’s in the bedroom.”

“This is getting more interesting..” he looks back with a withering look.

“Get your mind out of my pants, filthy girl,” he wags a finger at you.

“Can I give you my present first? I’m so excited!” He laughs at you and nods.

You run to your side of the bed and pull out an envelope, skipping to him to hand it over. He opens the envelope and reads the Christmas card inside, smiling. He opens the card and two pieces of paper fall out. He picks them up with a furrowed brow, reading the words on them.

“Wha..what is this? Japan? You bought us tickets to travel to Japan?!” Pure disbelief on his face. He keeps looking back at the tickets and to you, clearly having trouble processing the information in front of him.

“What the fuck? This is too much, Y/N! We said small gifts.” His face is shocked.

“Meh, you are worth it. Are you ok? Do you want to go? I thought we could go and try some authentic sushi? Remember when I first came here?” You are searching his face for any sign of happiness.

“Y/N, this is too much. You can’t afford this.” His face still shows nothing but shock.

“I can baby, I wouldn’t have bought them if I couldn’t afford it, you know that. The shop has been doing amazing. Do you not want to go?” Your voice is small and dejected.

“Are you kidding me? It’s my number one place I want to visit! Oh my god I’m so excited, I'm just in shock, baby. Thank you! Thank you so much. I’ve never had a gift like this before.” He pulls you in for a crushing hug, kissing you all over your face and neck until you are swatting him away.

“Do you want to open your gift?” He asks excitedly.

He walks to his drawers and pulls out a big black box with a giant gold ribbon tied in bow. He hands it to you and sits close to you, watching your face intently as you undo the bow. You lift the lid on the black box and pull out a red box that you recognise. It’s one of Sadies.

You look at him and his face is so earnest you give him a kiss.

“Open it,” he urges you.

You open the box and inside is the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. It has three platinum chain mail chains twisted round each other all joined together with a diamond on each clasp. It has a round platinum pendant on it, around the edge there is an engraving and in the middle is a beautiful, green stone.

“Ivar……” you look up at him, your eyes misting up.

“I need to explain it!” He is like an excited puppy.

“I designed it, with a little help from Sadie. It’s platinum and diamonds on the clasps..” the look on his face is one of pure amusement, you can’t help but laugh at him despite wanting to act offended, a clear call back to the unwanted bracelet he gave you.

“The circle of the pendant represents my never ending love for you,” his face changes from amusement to seriousness.

“The engraving is the date I first laid eyes on you.” You bring it closer to your face to read it.

“The date of the merger party.” You tell him, with a big soppy smile on your face.

“And the green sapphire in the middle is the exact colour of the blazer you were wearing when we met. I knew from that very moment you were the one for me. Forever and always.”

You don't know what to say, your eyes well up with tears.

“Do you like it, Y/N?” He asks nervously.

“It’s the most beautiful, thoughtful present. I love it.” You wipe your tears of happiness and kiss him. “You can't tell me off for the gift I got you, this must have cost a fortune, Ivar,” he just shrugs and grins.

“I left a space on it for another engraving. I am going to get it engraved with the date I ask you to be my wife.” his voice is smaller than before and his face is red with a blush. You gasp at his words and pull him close for a cuddle.

“Just for future reference, I will say yes.

THE END - thanks for reading :)

138 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Note

I love your writing style and after stalking your blog I found out that you studied English. Got any writing advice for someone who's still trying to figure out and develop their own style? I feel like I have so many ideas but the execution is 👎

Hello sweet thing! 🥰 Thanks for reading and a quick disclaimer before I dive in here: I don’t really even understand my own process/style yet and that is perfectly fine. I think it’s important to take risks in writing to develop skills and see what vibes with you and what doesn’t. So, while I have two degrees in English, I’ve never taken a creative writing class— just wanna get that out there. Now, onto the advice!

Read. Read often and voraciously. This method is tried and true for a reason, and that’s because it works. When I’m lacking in the inspiration department, I read poetry, novels, non-fiction, works by other writers in the community, maybe do a deep-dive with some lyrical analysis— if you know, you know. Seeking out other voices to inspire and teach is paramount.

(Continued under the cut)

To grow as a writer (or, really as a person), you can’t exist in your own silo. You need to engage with other stories. On some level, you should be listening to other’s voices and studying their styles. Otherwise, you’ll stunt your development as a writer. You could also, inadvertently, reinforce bad writing habits, if you’re not expanding your horizons by consuming other author’s works.

And this conversation has been making its run in the community as well as my corner of academia, but I’d be remiss not to touch on it here: there is no such thing as originality in literature. Everything from the Carolingian Cycle to Homeric Hymns to tropes, etc. has already been said and done. But what matters here, truly, is how you can put your spin on something. Have soulmate AUs been done to death? Yes. Is that gonna stop me? Hell to the no! I love that shit, of course I want to engage with that trope and see what I can do with it.

Rhythm. Cadence, flow, whatever you call it— this is crucial to me as a writer and academic. And honestly? I’m still figuring this one out for myself. I tend to talk or ramble as I write, mostly to test out dialogue for how it sounds but also as an editing trick. I tell my students all the time, read your work out loud before assuming it’s all said and done! You’d be amazed at how many things you’ll catch by stumbling over words and phrases that the eye would skip over.

I think a lot of this comes from patterns I’ve picked up from reading. Because I read and listen to other author’s voices and styles, I’m more equipped to see mistakes in my own syntax and voice because I’ve diversified my exposure to other styles of sentence structure, etc. So, yes, this does go back to reading and finding other voices— but it truly does help!

Feel it out. First and foremost, I am a chaotic writer— my GDrive is a mess and I can’t even imagine how many WIPs I have that are just a single sentence or phrase at this point. But everyone has to start somewhere, and for most of us, that takes the form of a sentence, phrase, or occasionally, a single word.

I just kind of just go for it in the docs, to be honest. I’ll get frustrated, walk away, delete (keep a doc designated as a graveyard/junkyard for this purpose, trust me!), get distracted, etc. But that’s okay and to be expected with the creative process. Flow can’t happen without a little resistance at first.

Play with syntax. Would a longer sentence be more meaningful here? Shorter? What about repetition? Think about word choice as well— identify the tone and mood you want to project.

Word Choice. Specific words are used for a calculated focus or effect— think about it. Would you want to hear the smacking of lips from a few tables over on a first date? Or hear the sounds of your roommate going to town on an apple while you’re putting the moves on that hottie from said first date?

Readers can feel the significance and weight of a word, how much space it occupies in a sentence: they have real influence. It’s not just morphemes and phonemes and phonetics; words project experience and sensation, so it’s important to tie your words to your intent or the mood you’re attempting to create.

If I’m writing an intimate scene, I’m not going to use abrasive words that will jar the reader from the tone I’m working so hard to craft. I’ll choose soft words, immersive words — a little repetition, as a treat, so we can sink more gently into the scene. Mention light, texture, employ the softness the surrounds the characters and kinesthetic imagery (imagery describing the actions or movements of the body), but above all, keep it soft.

Synonyms are a wonderful thing! Have a word that’s too clunky for that specific phrase? Find a shorter one; too harsh, find a gentler one; so on and so forth.

This is where reading other stories will help (she says, circling back to point 1). Inevitably, it will diversify your personal vocabularly and your ability to string words together in sentences. The tricks I’ve absorbed by just reading? Innumerous, incalculable and lucky for me, they’re instinct by now.

Format. What’s the goal? If the scene is action heavy, keep the sentences short. Urgent. Focus on the senses we should be aware of in a fight scene. Looking for something more intimate? Stretch things out, suspend time and let people ease into the moment gently.

Short sentences can narrow your focus; longer sentences, the ones that ebb and flow and gather multiple senses, those are some of my favorites— so enriching and immersive.

What view is most important in a given scene? Would a character be more focused on the feel of their beloved’s skin against theirs or the how the hurt reflects in their eyes?

Synesthesia. Ah, yes, my favorite. Synesthasia is a technique adopted by writers to present ideas, characters, or places in such a manner that they appeal to more than one sense, like hearing, sight, smell, and touch at a given time. I am guilty of using this whenever I possibly can because I think being able to embody a scene is crucial to effective writing.

Sensory experience is something that helps me find my way in a narrative. It allows me to settle in. Think about the various qualities of differing sensory experiences, and their consequence. Every sense doesn’t need to be included, just because you can does not mean you should.

Plus, it’s quite convenient for implying intimacy. A character who notices that another character smells of bergamot, cinnamon, or home accomplishes a lot of things in a few words. It immerses the reader in the scene in a very real way; it’s a quick, easy avenue into establishing a history and a relationship between the two characters; and it implies something deeper than a passing acquaintance/platonic interest.

But, I’m also an olfactory snob, so what do I know!

Oof, yeesh, sorry for the ramble here! I think the truth of it is this: I don’t make a lot of these choices consciously. I get stuck somewhere and feel my way around until I can make sense of it again, laying puzzle pieces or clues that I hope others will be able to find when they read it.

I guess my main advice is to read. Read often and well, experience other voices and styles, go outside your comfort zone! If you lock yourself away in that silo or echo chamber, you’ll only reinforce one style or approach— you’ll miss out on so much beauty and creative experiences that the world has to offer!

To close, I’m going to list and tag a few works and authors I’ve found to be instrumental in my reading and writing experience.

Best of luck anon!

QuinAnderson’s The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic

@loveshotzz , @carolmunson, @jo-harrington, @wroteclassicaly , @stevenose , @bettyfrommars (and I’m sure I’m forgetting some at this moment!! I’m sorry 😩) have their own special way of weaving a story, breathing emotion and life into it.

My fic rec tag

Poetry:

Crush by Richard Siken

Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz

Night Sky With Exit Wounds & Time Is A Mother by Ocean Vuong

The works of Louise Gluck, Elizabeth Bishop, Gloria Anzaldua, Slyvia Plath, Rilke, Ilya Kaminsky, and Jeanette Winslterson

Movies:

In the Mood for Love

Y tu mamá también

Moonlight

Atonement

#cee’s got mail!#cee’s advice

40 notes · View notes

ti-girl1226 · 5 months

Text

The reason Tommy didn’t take his pain meds

I’m sure by the title you can already tell but this mentions medicine and addiction, addiction is a mental/physical disorder that many people have or are suffering from. If you need help please contact someone for that, and if you are clean Im happy and proud of you. Anyway I was feeling a bit sad and went back to my dsmp stage so you get hermit Tommy because I’m like that. I hope you enjoy :)

Tommy has always been a bit of a hassle when it comes to recovery. Grian and the other hermits knew that. And it was always an issue. But this time there’s been something was different, he acted strange when stress gave him the pain meds and told him to take them in the morning for a week. Tommy shifted and awkwardly took it. He seemed apprehensive, like he hated them and couldn’t trust them. The next few days Tommy would be flinching when putting pressure on his wounds and he thought nobody noticed. But the hermits slowly noticed over the days, and when Tommy didn’t come out when he usually did. Grian grew suspicious, so he went to look for him. When he entered the house he looked around and eventually got to the kitchen, that’s when he grew more concerned. The meds stress had proscribed were untouched, but that’s not the only thing, they were sitting on the highest shelf far back where even Tommy couldn’t reach. It was strange. But then Grian heard something that made his stomach drop. A faint whimpering coming from Tommy’s bedroom. Grian didn’t think and quickly ran to Tommy’s room, Tommy was curled up on the floor crying. He was holding the area around his injured sobbing.

“Tommy?” Grian asks rushing to his side parental instincts kicking in. “What’s wrong? Why haven’t you been taking your meds? Are you okay?”

Tommy’s weakness shows through his tears “it hurts make it stop please make it stop.” He cries, Grian doesn’t know what to do except get him help. He quickly sends out a messages ‘Tommy hurt need help, where to go.’ The chat explodes with concern messages but through them doc with a reply ‘my house is fine.’ Grian waist no time scooping up the crying Tommy and spreading his wings and flying to docs residence. When he enters stress is already there and they take Tommy away too look at him.

“He’ll be okay,” says scar from his wheelchair while grian pieces infront of him.

“You don’t get it he didn’t even touch his meds,” the red winged man says as he pulls slightly on his blonde hair “why wouldn’t he want the pain relief? Why didn’t he take them? Dose he not trust us still? Why didn’t he take them?” Shouting form the medical room stops the man in his rambling.

“No no get away I won’t take it!?” A familiar voice yells out. Tommy need help is all grian thinks as he runs into the room the boy was in. His wings puffed out as he stands looking at Tommy as he plasterers himself against the wall across the room from stress and doc. It’s so similar to when he first landed on hermitcraft that it’s somewhat scary to grian. Did all this hard work to make him better not work? Has Grian failed, as a parent? (Why did he think that Tommy’s not his kid and Tommy doesn’t see him as his dad so why did he-)

“We tried to give him pain meds but he won’t allow us, we tried explaining that it would help.” Says Doc snapping grian out of his thoughts. Grian looks at Tommy with concern walking up to him slowly and getting down this level (tommy is on the floor like curled up.)

“Tommy, why won’t you take the meds? Did your perverse server do something to them while you were on the server?” Ask grian in a soft voice, calming down Tommy, slightly expanding his wings to block Tommy from seeing doc and stress who tried to give him the meds.

“No.” Tommy replies cowering slightly as his voice breaks.

“Then why don’t you want to take them?”

“I… I’ve been clean for so long I don’t want to fuck it up again.” His void cracks as he says it not looking at grian. If he was he would have seen the shock,anger and finally pity.

“Oh Tommy you should have said something,” grian says bringing Tommy into one of his signature hugs raping his wings around him aswell. “I want you to know that we don’t judge you and the fellow hermits will try our best to help you on your journey. I promise you that everybody is proud of you. I’m proud of you.” Grian says tears daring to spill, he doesn’t move holding his hatchling Tommy tightly. Him and Tommy start to cry together. They are alone together doc and stress left a while back. Finally after a while and Tommy getting exhausted from the previous pain of his injury and the tears, yaws in the hug. He mumbles a few words that if grian wasn’t a bird hybrid he might have not heard “thank you dad.” Before falling asleep. Grian sits there tears of happiness staring to overtake those of sadness and he hold his new hatchling close to him. Tommy called him dad!

lol, was board and saw a thing about how cannon Tommy would have been a drug addicted at some point, I can see both the van times and after Wilbur’s death. But I thought how would hermits react to this especially Grian because I love father Grian vibes, and while writing thought why no make this the first time Tommy calls him dad to add a bit off fluff at the end. So lol if y’all want to do something like this then you’re good to go.

Edit- re reading this I feel like it turned kinda into a very slightly darker like possessive parent grian towards the end and I don’t know why

#hermitcraft #grian #grian hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft au #stressmonster101 #Father Grian au #how is that not a tag #I didn’t know I could do this #Hermit Tommy #tommyinnit #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #Grian gets called dad for the first time #Grian has wings

24 notes · View notes