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smileysvech · 3 months

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dating jeremy swayman

nsfw under the cut, minors please dni

physical touch and quality time are his top love languages, you cannot convince me otherwise

he’s always wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body into his bigger frame to engulf you in a hug

he loves a good cuddle and getting to hold you in his arms while you rest your head against his chest so you can hear his strong and steady heartbeat

he spends so much of his time out in nature, away from his phone with no distractions, so if you went on a hike with him he'd be so present and in the moment with you

jeremy talks a lot about how he wants to work his ass off to earn every opportunity he gets to play and he has that mentality in the bedroom too… he will work to please you and do everything he can to earn the reward of making you cum

part of being a goalie is having intense focus and being dialed in so he would be incredibly focused on how your body responds to his touch and his voice and he’s able to read your body so well and knows just how to make you completely fall apart

he’s so patient and usually isn’t in a rush and likes to take his time with you and prefers slow and sensual yet passionate sex over a quick rough fuck (though he’s not entirely opposed to it)

but he will ALWAYS perform some good aftercare for you

he's so attentive when he's leaving soft kisses all over your skin as he cleans you up, checking in on you "you okay there, pretty girl?" and murmuring "you did so well, love you so much", massaging any part of your body that might be sore

he also plays guitar so we know he’s skilled with his hands

his fingers are probably calloused and a little rough but it feels amazing when he rubs them against your clit or when he finally slides them into your wet and waiting pussy

he’s got a praise kink (hello?? telling ully “I’m coming handsome!” and the “fuck she’s a good girl” clip that lives in my head rent free like he’s not afraid to give out compliments and loves to worship you!!!!!!!)

he’s often described as one of the most vocal goalies so he’s gotta be just as vocal in bed

he will let you know how good you make him feel with his deep moans and groans and breathy curses when your lips are wrapped around his cock or your pussy is fluttering and squeezing him

“fuck, that’s it. right there. feels so good. such a good girl for me.”

“keep doing that, baby.”

also BITING KINK

y’all seen the way he bites his jersey???

I just KNOW he would love biting and marking you up

maybe it starts off as just soft, slow kisses but soon the two of you have moved to the couch and you’re perched on his big lap straddling him while making out

one of his big hands has found its way into your hair at the base of your neck and with an ever so gentle tug he signals for you to lean your head back so he can detach his lips from yours and trail kisses from your shoulder to your collar bone and up your neck and jaw

he lets his teeth sink into your flesh and you wince a little bit at the stinging sensation but he quickly eases any of your discomfort when he runs his tongue along the mark he left on you

god he would love leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your neck and breasts

he would be so smug about it too, just leaning back and admiring his work with a little cocky smirk when you run your fingers over the marks he left you when you assess the damage in your bathroom mirror later

you roll your eyes at him, but truthfully you love it too because it’s a reminder that he wants you and you’re his girl

and how can we not discuss his confidence and cockiness?

the way he is always smirking and winking during warmups

AND HIS MANSPREADING

the man knows he's packing

I have it in my head that he loves when you sit on his lap and wrap your arms around him to keep your balance

and he LOVES when you ride him

he enjoys seeing the pleasure on your face as you take what you need from him, doing whatever it takes to get yourself off on him

and after he's sure you've had at least one orgasm, he'd take control and thrust his hips up and drive his cock into you deeper and deeper, finding your most sensitive spots to bring you to another earth-shattering orgasm

tagging a few of my fellow sway girlies: @pyotrkochetkov @senditcolton @barzysunflower @cellythefloshie

#WHAT DO I EVEN TAG THIS DUMPSTER FIRE OF SIN THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman imagine #jeremy swayman smut #jeremy swayman headcanon #nhl smut #dhdbbdsjjsjsjs the h**** brainrot really got to me and now here we are #this is still me pushing the sexy sway agenda #n e wayz enjoy!

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nijiiro-no-kasa · 17 days

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The Sunshine Court reactions under the cut. That means spoilers!

Jeremy is so perfect and I love him. I’m so glad his whole Thing wasn’t an act 🌟

“Andrew taught me…” Everything about Andrew and Neil from Jean and Jeremy’s POVs was lovely. Even though Jeans view was basically like “Andrew is creepy and Neil is horrifying”. All of his descriptions of Neil made him sound like a cryptid or someone whos natural state is forcing down a murderous impulse by the skin of their teeth and he is RIGHT.

Jean reacting to the Foxes v Ravens game! His reaction to Riko attacking Neil!! His reaction to Andrew saving him!!!!!

“That’s just a mite bit hecked up” 💀

Both Jean and Jeremy being like “yeah he’s hot. But at what cost?” About the other

Barkbark. A golden retriever. Putting him in Jeans room so he won’t be alone. SOMEONE GIVE JEREMY A DOG

Jeremy buying Jean the shirt 🥺 He’s so good

Cat and Laila are somehow MORE amazing than I thought?? And I had really high expectations

I feel like Jeremy is going to learn necromancy just so he can bring Riko back and kill him 👀

Jeans reaction to Jeremy bleaching his hair!

“Blond 👁️👄👁️”

I’m dying to know what Jean did to Andrew and Neil (and Kevin)’s room. More than that, I’m dying to know their reactions lmao

“For the record, that’s not a thing well-adjusted people say” - That is the best summary for not only this book, but this whole series.

Jeremy saying “shall we see what kind of trouble we can get into” and pulling out a board game is so beautiful and wonderful and ridiculous. He is an old man and a golden retriever and an angel

“Permission to break his face coach?” “Denied.”

I was surprised that Andrew didn’t tag along for Neil’s little field trip to LA, but it made sense once Neil 1) Called for a hit via napkin while drinking Thai tea, 2) “That’s illegal, just so you know” at the FBI’s parking job, and 3) Him lying to and guilt tripping the FBI during questioning. Andrew would have simply died from lust if he had seen all that.

“Remember that the next time you think you aren’t worth saving” almost took me OUT

I am chewing through the walls of my cage waiting for the next book holy shit

#TSC #the sunshine court #aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #jeremy knox #neil josten #andrew minyard

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drewsbuzzcut · 2 months

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Your Touch Brought Forth An Incandescent Glow

(or the many ways Jeremy touches Lyla)

Jeremy Swayman x Lyla Blair

A ‘The Masterminds’ fic

Warnings: smut, mentions being naked, and I think that’s all

“Oh my god! Don’t stop, J,” Lyla moans, sultry and whiny.

White, hot heat blankets Lyla’s body as Jeremy continues to thrust into her. They’re both perched on their knees, Jeremy’s chest to her back. His warm, large hands are splayed out over her breasts, squeezing the supple flesh as his hips continue to rock into her.

“You like that, baby?” He whispers hotly against the shell of her ear, a shiver wracks through her body.

“Yes,” she chants, throwing her arms behind her to loop around his neck, fusing their bodies into one. Her fingers clench the strands of his hair, using it as an anchor.

She throws her ass back, sinking further down on his cock. Their bodies move like a wave of powerful pleasure. The husky lilt of his voice, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, sets her every nerve ending alight.

“Don’t stop. Just like that baby,” her body trembles just as her walls contract around his shaft.

His hands move from Lyla’s breast, one to her throat and the other down to her pussy. He pulls her head back, hand tighter around her throat -which unleashes a whimper from her vocal cords- and takes her lips between his. The coarse hairs of his beard scratch against the soft skin of her face, and it makes her thrust her tongue down his throat- practically swallowing him whole. His finger catches onto her clit, stroking it delicately until their kisses become open mouthed and Lyla can’t hold back her panting anymore.

“You’re my good girl,” his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, drawing more moans from his girl.

“Yours. Only yours,” Lyla squeaks, orgasming around him.

Fire courses through her body, all of her thoughts become singed. She’s left in a haze, whimpering as he paints her walls.

“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth, working her through her release.

“I love you.”

————————————————————————

Lyla waits patiently outside of the locker room. To anyone, she’d seem relaxed, but on the inside Lyla is running around screaming. She cannot wait to see Jeremy who just had an amazing game. He’s such a natural out there and Lyla is so proud of him.

“Ly!” She hears and her head snaps up. She runs straight into his arms, cheeks heating up at the way he hoists her body up with his big, strong muscles. Memories of him pinning her arms down as he fucks into her flash through her mind. She feels like she just took a dip in the sun and she feels her wetness start to pool in her lace underwear. Don’t even get her started on the way his hands are pressed to her ass to keep her up. It reminds her of the way he spreads her open when she’s taking him from behind.

After a deep breath she wills those thoughts away. Now’s not the time.

“Hi, my big boy. You played amazing! I can’t believe I get to watch you and I get to go home with you. I love you,” Lyla rambles, eyes wide and hands glued to his cheeks as she talks with such excitement.

The girl’s enthusiasm sets off hoards of butterflies in Jeremy’s stomach. They flutter nonstop, even when she’s not around Lyla because he’s always thinking about her either way.

“I’m happy you’re here. I love you,” he sets her back on her feet, arms wrapping around her waist and bringing her into his chest. She fits perfectly there.

“Kiss me,” Lyla jumps up, body unable to stay still. Her arms loop around his neck, keeping him close. Her body tingles and a small squeal falls from her mouth when he nudges his nose against hers. It’s a tease, but Jeremy loves the way Lyla grips onto his suit jacket.

With a small smirk, he’s leaning down and taking her lips in his. His large hands press into the small of her back, making a chill roll up her spine. A breathy sigh is mingled between their mouths, the air around the couple becoming blanketed with desire. Zaps of electricity flow through Lyla’s fingertips and sear in Jeremy’s skin.

“We should head home. This jersey is begging to be on the floor,” he whispers into their kiss, eyes darkened and lidded. Lyla lets out a shuddering breath as her heart pounds in her chest.

“You think so?” She teases with her head tilted and bottom lip between her teeth.

“Hell yeah.”

Grabbing onto his hand, Lyla pulls him to his car in a silent answer.

————————————————————————

The pounding bass and loud cheers from the crowd reverberate against Lyla’s body. She’s perfectly nestled in Jeremy’s arms, her back pressed tightly to his warm chest. His large hands grip onto her hips, swaying his body along with hers.

Times like these are rare with both of their lives always being busy. Even though there are a ton of people around the pair, they’re in their own world.

Jeremy leans more into Lyla when he hears her softly singing the song that the band is playing. Each lyric that passes the seam of her lips takes on a new meaning and they seem to map out their lives together.

Lyla turns in his hold, face nuzzling into his chest and takes in the smell of his cologne and the way it mixes with his sweat. She loves it; it’s reminiscent of all the times he’d come back from a morning workout and kiss her awake.

His hand travels to the back of her neck, a finger caressing her skin and it makes her shiver. She reaches out to cup the back of his neck, green eyes looking up and boring into his. Lyla continues to sing except now she’s singing to the love of her life.

Her soft, serene voice a siren call to his ears. It’s alluring and all he wants to do is hear it. All he wants to do is inject the sound into his veins and feel the vibration of her voice.

“I love you,” she leans up on her tiptoes and whispers her words of affection into his mouth.

Jeremy’s lips attach to hers in a bruising passion. Everything around them seems to stop. Her entire world is pressed against her lips, something with so much power has never felt so tangible. It almost knocks Lyla off her feet.

“I love you, baby,” he smiles down at her, his thumb pressing into her dimple which makes it pop out even more.

She grabs his arm, turning back around and pulling him tight around her. There’s nothing like someone who makes you feel at home no matter where you are.

————————————————————————

The lavender scented bubbles lap at the couple seated in the porcelain bathtub. Jeremy has his arms perched on the edge and Lyla is sitting between his legs, confined by his muscles.

Many candles light up the room and soft jazz music fills the comfortable silence. There are times when Lyla nor Jeremy can keep quiet, but tonight calls for a calmness that can only be achieved through lingering touches and longing stares.

Jeremy’s eyes travel the expanse of Lyla’s back, taking in each freckle that paints her skin and the delicate cursive of the tattoo inked into the back of her shoulder. “Swayman,” is as perfect marking her as it is being said next to her first name. A finger comes up, gathering each freckle into their own constellation before tracing each letter of her tattoo. Goosebumps pepper her skin, making Jeremy wrap an arm around her stomach and pull her closer.

Lyla is immediately melting into his warmth. There’s nothing like it, and she’ll never deny a cuddle from her man- especially if he’s fully naked. It’s so much better.

The hockey player noses at her neck, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo and body wash. His large hand gently grips her throat, tilting the girl’s head back and slotting his lips between hers. Their tongues curl around each other and raspy breaths are shared.

With a sultry whine Lyla flips over, chest pressing into his, and brings his lips back down on hers. He sucks on her tongue, hands gripping onto her hips as she straddles his waist. He scoots her further up his torso, so his lips can easily wander down the hollow of her neck.

“I love you,” she hums, fingers carding through his hair.

“I love you,” he whispers, hands dipping down into the water to squeeze at her ass.

Lyla smirks at him and Jeremy reciprocates it with a cocky wink, pulling her to lay her head on his chest. The familiar beat of his heart lulls her deeper into relaxation. She very much enjoys being touched by her big boy.

a/n: So I really enjoyed writing this even though it took me like almost a month to finish😭😭 I hope y’all enjoy as well!!

#lyla x jeremy #oc!singer x jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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prettytoxicrevolver · 5 months

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omg from the holiday list! scenarios with a plot number 8 with sway and dialogue 21 bc i cannot deal that is so cute 🫣

im hoping I did this justice but like.... honestly this fic is so cute. enjoy!!

The first snowfall of the year was consistently your favorite day every single year. You loved the cold, loved the snow covering every inch of nature like a beautiful pure blanket, you loved snow angels and the memories of sledding and building snowmen with your family and hot cups of coco and a million other memories clouded deep in the individual snowflakes of your childhood.

So, when your daughter experiences her first day off from school because of the snow you’re practically more excited than she is. You’ve been awake since six, curled up in your favorite chair next to the window rotating between watching the snowfall and becoming engrossed in your favorite book.

It takes Jeremy another hour or so to get up, you listen as your husband stirs from his sleep and sits up to see the light glinting off the snow creating a halo effect around you. You pick your head up out of your book and turn to see the definition of a prince sitting in bed looking at you. Jeremy has one arm up and resting on top of his head, his body half reclined with tired eyes roaming your figure. The blanket on the bed has slipped so most of his chest is showing and the tired but loving smile on his lips has you melting like the snow will in a couple of days.

“Good morning,” he murmurs in that deep voice reserved just for you.

“Morning,” you smile widely, a natural reaction around your husband.

You place your bookmark inside your book before getting up and climbing back into bed with Jeremy. He pulls you into his side and you rest your head on his chest while his fingers trace lazy patterns on your body.

“Do you have practice today?”

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Should we go wake up Livvy?” you ask, lifting your head so your chin rests on his chest.

“No I think-”

Your husband doesn’t get to finish his sentence, the words cut off by your daughter bounding into the room. She climbs up onto the bed and immediately throws herself down in the middle of you two.

“Dad it’s snowing!” she squeals in excitement, tugging at Jeremy’s hand so he can look out the window.

Your moment is paused from then on, your daughter dragging Jeremy to the window and eventually downstairs to eat breakfast and out the door for sledding. You join them as they start to make a snowman, grabbing all of the clothes your daughter asks for. She grabs them from you and starts to dress the snowman her and Jeremy have built.

Jeremy steps back, making his way over to you and sliding an arm around your waist. You look up at him and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Y’all having fun?” you ask and he hums in agreement against you.

“Momma look!” Olivia calls and you turn to see the snowman dressed in a bruins jacket, a bruins baseball hat, stick arms, a carrot nose and a smile made out of rocks.

“It looks perfect baby.”

The three of you head inside for dinner and Jeremy offers to put Olivia to bed afterwards. You’re standing in the bathroom brushing your teeth when your husband sneaks in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your shoulder.

“Is she asleep?” you ask around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Out like a light,” he promises.

He kisses your cheek before letting go and brushing his own teeth. The two of you talk for a bit before heading to bed, Jeremy holding you close while you drift to sleep.

When you wake up, there’s a tugging on your arm and a quiet voice in your ear. Your eyes snap open realizing it’s your daughter and she has tears in her eyes as she looks at you.

“Livvy baby, what's wrong?” you ask, sitting up in bed and dragging her into your lap.

You pull her close, one hand cupping her head to your chest while the other fumbles for the lamp. Once it’s on, your free hand nudges Jeremy until he’s awake before you’re back to focusing your full attention on your daughter.

“Dad read me a story about a snowman walking around town at night and stealing Christmas presents,” she chokes out, crying hysterically in your arms and you cast a glance at Jeremy who has nothing but regret on his face.

“It’s not real baby, snowman can’t move,” you promise and your ever defiant daughter sits up in your lap and shakes her head.

“Yes they can! I saw ours moving when I looked outside!”

You sigh quietly before carefully maneuvering out of bed and carrying Olivia to the window and pointing outside.

“They’re not moving baby,” you tell her but she’s still unsure.

“What about the other snowmen?”

So, that’s how you, Jeremy, and Olivia end up in the middle of the streets while it’s still snowing, taking a stroll to show her that snowmen don’t actually move or do anything at night. She gazes at them with fear in her eyes at first, but after seeing two or three, she’s moved on to being in awe of the Christmas lights decorating each house.

The snow has started up again as you walk, and Jeremy pulls you close against him, a soft smile on his lips.

“You got some snow,” he starts to say, brushing it off your hair and you smile up at him.

“You look pretty covered in snow,” he starts to say and even after all these years you blush at his words. “Guess that’s why they’re called snow angels.”

“Oh,” you drag out, dramatically bumping your head onto his chest. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it,” he smirks.

“I really do,” you respond and his smile widens.

“Let’s get my girls home, yeah?”

#jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman blurb #jeremy swayman imagine #jeremy swayman x reader #boston bruins x y/n #boston bruins x fic #boston bruins x reader #boston bruins imagine #prettytoxicrevolver fic

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hop-a-lot · 6 months

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heres the scenario ;3

Jonah wasn't supposed to be at Sawmill that day. Hell, he was supposed to be in Australia with Mr. Hale, and yet here he is. Dying from bullets wound. Scout didn't even realize that it was his brother at first when he had fired the shots.

He drops the force-a-nature, sprinting to Jonah's side and drags him to the sideline, screaming for Medic.

"Jonah-- Jonah, you'll be okay-- come on, dude! Ma's waitin' at home for ya!" Scout pleads, ripping open his duffel bag and trying to stop the bleeding. Silently begging Medic to hurry up.

"...Jeremy... did you... frickin' shoot me?" Jonah's unsteady gaze turns to his brother. Speaking taking a lot of effort for his older brother.

"I- It- It was an accident, I- I didn't know it was you..." Scout takes a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry! Please, just, don't die on me, okay?! That crap ain't cool!"

"...no promises." Jonah doesn't even seem angry. "Your aim's... gotten better... than it was when... we were kids."

"Sh-Shut up! It's always been good." Scout protests. His hands are warm, and he looks down to see the blood has soaked through the gauze.

"Jeremy." Jonah's voice is so calm. It's starting to scare Scout. "It's okay."

"What-?" Scout looks at his older brother in horror. "It ain't okay! I don't wantcha leavin' like Wes an' Henry... Please-- Jonah, please--" Scout begs, grabbing his brother's hand. Jonah smiles at him, bloodstains on his teeth.

"Tell Ma... I won't be... home for dinner."

A shadow takes Scout's gaze off his brother, and he looks up to see Spy standing over them both, a hollow look on his face.

"Help him." Scout whispers. Spy just shakes his head.

"I cannot help a dead man." Is the only thing Spy says. Turning his attention back to Jonah, Scout's suddenly aware his brother isn't breathing. There's no life behind his coffee-brown eyes, and when Scout loosens his grip on Jonah's hand, it limply slides out and hits the ground with a thud.

Jonah's dead.

Whatever happened next was a blur.

Someone grabbed Scout, tearing him away from his brother's body. Calls of retreat, and then everything goes black and Scout welcomes sleep.

"...oh! He's waking up." Medic's voice sounds fuzzy and distant.

"Mate. You in there?" Sniper's voice asks, and Scout opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but he can make out enough to know he's in the medical wing.

"Wh... what happened?" Scout shifts his gaze to Medic.

"Well, we retreated. We lost the round." Medic explains. "And you fainted."

"Spy carried you back here. Never seen the bloke run so bloody fast before." Sniper adds, crossing his arms.

"...Jonah. Where... Where is he?" Scout tries to sit up, but Medic pushes him back down.

"You hit your head, Scout. You need rest." Medic avoids answering the question.

"No." Scout pushes Medic off. "Where's Jonah. Where is my damn brother?!"

"He... He died, mate." Sniper gives Scout a pitying look. "You... You were there when it happened."

The memories come back to Scout slowly, and his eyes widen.

You're the reason why it happened, Jeremy. Jonah'a voice haunts him. Scout doesn't say a word, but he can feel hot tears burning in his eyes and on his face. Sniper puts a hand on his back, and Medic steps away to lock the doors for privacy.

Jonah's funeral is private, with only family being there. But family is just Scout and Ma.

He's the last survivor out of all his brothers.

And he killed the only brother who had ever seemed to care about him. Ma seemed to know something about Scout's role in Jonah's death, but she said nothing about it. Just silently cried, sitting next to Scout, staring at the coffin.

Scout didn't shed a single tear. He just felt empty.

War has no sides, only victims. Scout had gotten pulled into the cycle of war and paid the price. No amount of compensation pay or time off would bring Jonah back.

And only Scout would know the truth about his death. It wasn't "suicide" like Medic had said it was.

Scout sits on the edge of his bed, staring out the window. It's been two weeks since Jonah died, and Scout hadn't been able to sleep since the funeral a few days ago. Standing with a sigh, he opens the desk drawer and reaches for his sketchbook when his hand brushes against something round.

A baseball. No. The baseball.

Take care, Jeremy. -Jonah

And finally, Scout finds himself crying.

screaming crying throwing up this is so good??? "War has no sides, only victims. Scout had gotten pulled into the cycle of war and paid the price. No amount of compensation pay or time off would bring Jonah back." Repetitive slaughter makes him numb, until he finally come to senses when he mistakenly murdered his dearest brother, this part is just tragic and heartbreaking...

#ask #tf2 bidwell #tf2 scout #fic

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marygih · 3 months

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Brazilian peculiar fauna

As promised, my peculiar Brazilian fauna! I will explain what each animal is

1 .Two-headed jaguar

Exactly similar to two-headed lynxes, these large cats inhabit forests and are aggressive. They are large animals and need help to survive as both heads need to eat equally for the animal to survive.

2. Demon Piranhas

They are a dangerous and peculiar species of piranha, they have larger than normal teeth and horns, they are larger than common piranhas and they even devour alligators, it is an extremely dangerous animal.

3. Hummingbird with two tongues

This animal has a beak that opens much wider than that of a common hummingbird, it has two tongues that help it when eating. They eat much faster than a common hummingbird. These birds are naturally extremely fast and are peaceful.

4. Pink dolphin - Holadeira

Photographed in 1995 by Jeremy Wade, this species of Amazonian dolphin is extremely rare to find. It has notches on its back that are very characteristic. Unlike normal pink dolphins, this animal is aggressive just like a piranha, it is recommended to stay very far away from this animal

5. Fire maned wolf

This large animal is peaceful, extremely cautious and does not pose any immediate danger. However, if cornered or in a situation of danger or a lot of stress, this animal's body will catch fire. Fire does not hurt it, it is used solely as defense, unfortunately this animal is often responsible for Forest fire

6. Harpybara

This animal is a mix of a harpy and a capybara, harpybaras have the wings and tail of harpies and the body of a friendly and cute capybara, it is a peaceful and omnivorous animal. She swims very well, is terrestrial, and flies long distances, but prefers to stay on the ground and lie down under the shade of trees. They are the preferred animals as pets for ymbrynes, as they are completely harmless to children and are good companions.

7. Peculiar Coral Snakes

Coral snakes are already naturally dangerous with their deadly venom, now imagine a coral snake that can swallow anything regardless of size. This is the peculiar ability of these snakes. In addition to the naturally dangerous venom, these snakes are born with a jaw that stretches infinitely and an elastic body. They can eat things infinitely bigger than themselves and go years without needing to eat again. Obviously they are extremely dangerous.

8. Indestructible armadillo

Of normal size to that of any common armadillo, the indestructible armadillo has the peculiarity of its impenetrable body, its shell is proof of everything, it cannot be broken, shot or burned. It's indestructible.

Soon you met the ymbryne who rescues and shelters all these animals, Miss Tainá Urutau.

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thesunshinecourts · 24 days

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countdown to tsc: apr 6., 2024, 07:48 pdt

17. your bed after travelling // jean moreau thinks about belonging

They had an away game against UT Austin, which was more exhausting in flight time than as an actual form of competition.

It’s three hours to Austin from Los Angeles. (“Non-stop flight time is 2 hours, 55 minutes,” Sebastian says, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose because he thinks it makes him look cool. It makes Jean want to spit on him. It makes Jean think about Kevin at age thirteen, when he dubiously tested out reading glasses at the recommendation of one of the doctors at Evermore. That kind of makes Jean want to spit on Sebastian more, but he restrains himself. Kevin Day at the beginning of teenagehood is not a crime that anyone should have to answer for, save the man himself and maybe Riko. He can’t, though. He’s dead.

It still thrills Jean, that thought, explicit and direct and true. It had been a fantasy for years, the kind he could never share, and certainly not with Kevin, who had loved Riko as desperately as he had come to fear him. It had been a wish, once or twice, entrusted only into Renee’s steady hands, the kind phrased not as a request, but as an expression of guilt given to the only person to whom he could lay himself bare. It is a fact, a gun pointed by Neil and a trigger squeezed by Ichirou and a new type of shackle on Jean, still heavy, but lacking teeth.

No, Jeremy Knox’s Sunshine Court has no such skin-torn, blood-soaked, jagged edges, except those which Jean brings with him. It’s almost harder to bear.)

Three hours to Austin from Los Angeles, meaning six hours round trip.

Jean is used to playing for that long on the Ravens’ court: a much more punishing endeavour than any training plan Rhemann and his cohort of coaches at USC could come up with. Playing the game against UT is laughably easy for Jean, at least when it comes to stamina and skill. Patience is a different matter, but while the Trojans are no Ravens, they are an exceptional team. When Jean makes his meagre attempts at forbearance, he thinks to himself that he is lucky to not have been a Fox. He would likely have lost his voice, given the arguing necessary to whip them into a vaguely-tolerable shape.

Kevin had always been better at that. Jean is not a natural teacher. He taught Kevin French out of loneliness, and he taught Neil to survive out of necessity. Kevin would always have been more suited to the walking catastrophe that called itself the PSU Foxes Exy team.

Belonging is always easier, Jean thinks, when one has a foothold. Personality aside—and truly, Jean has never met a person more stubborn than Kevin, which is less a compliment and more an expulsion of grief—Kevin would always have been better-suited to the Foxes than Jean, for Kevin had a man who would never turn him away simply because of who his mother was, even without knowing Kevin was his son.

Jean does not envy Kevin his father. Jean prefers not to think of fathers at all.

So no, the game is not especially taxing. The Trojans have a strong roster, and are less inclined to allow personal pique to have a say in which players get substituted, and when. (This isn’t to say that there is no personal pique to be found amongst the Trojans; whilst Jean’s experiences with them thus far have proven—if exasperatingly—that the Day Spirit Award has been rightfully awarded all these years, he’s also discovered that Alvarez has stroppy tendencies when she’s tired, and Jeremy’s occasional remarks about the Ravens are cavalier not out of ignorance, but a quiet disdain for their conduct.

So it’s not that the Trojans are all foolish Golden Retrievers rolling over to show their bellies to the world; it’s mostly that none of them are Riko, and nor are they Foxes. They can afford to offer grace as they move through the world. Jean is not sure he can.)

The flights are infinitely worse, because without an Exy racquet in his hand and the court beneath his feet, there is no escape from Jean’s own head.

The flight to Austin is better, of the two. It’s still not ideal, but Jeremy and Laila sit Jean firmly between them and essentially force him into conversation. It’s mostly grudging, and almost entirely about the upcoming match—there is not a single player at UT who Jean finds compelling, but one of their assistant coaches is a former player who once suggested something rude about Thea, who responded by checking him so hard when he next had the ball that he sprawled to the ground and slid three metres across the court.

Jean enjoys this story. He thinks Laila and Jeremy did too, from the way Laila’s eyes gleamed and how Jeremy’s voice had a laugh in it when he said, not exactly a strategy in our playbook, but I daresay it would have been satisfying to watch.

The flight back to Los Angeles is worse.

The ache from the game is settling into his body now, muscle and flesh and bone. It’s not enough to draw him out of his own head.

One of UT’s dealers had pitched herself right at him, driving herself into his hip. That level of force wouldn’t usually have knocked him over, but there’s an old ache there from Riko’s fingers and favourite toys. Mostly Jean stays standing, but sometimes he gives in.

When Jean had lived in Abby’s spare bedroom, there had been a revolving cast of visitors, though there was more frequency than variety. Renee had visited most, then Wymack. If Jean counts the times he shut his door and refused to let Kevin into his room and Kevin stayed in the kitchen asking Abby questions in a quiet voice that was never quite quiet enough, then Kevin probably takes third place. Otherwise, Jean thinks it would be Aaron.

This was less about Jean, and more about the lesson he could provide in Abby’s hands. Jean didn’t care. His whole life had been made of debt and pain and prodding. Cool fingers re-dressing his wounds—all steady hands and clinical efficiency and blunt responses—was almost a balm in the face of it.

Besides, there was something comforting in his lack of expectation. Jean has no idea what most people want from a doctor. He’s heard grumblings about bedside manner and seen some memes through the Twitter timeline Xavier and Alvarez inflicted upon him, but he found his greatest relief in the way Aaron inspected all his wounds without flinching.

Sometimes Kevin would come quietly into the room, and Aaron would roll his eyes at him, and then look to Jean, as if waiting. Jean did not mind so much if Kevin came in with someone else, like Renee or Aaron or Thea. (Well, he had minded very much the time he came in with Thea, but that was due more to the lack of warning. Thea herself had been someone Jean found himself missing.) He liked it more when Kevin came in with Aaron, which was less to do with their behaviour—Aaron was more likely to tell Kevin to shut up or fuck off, but Renee’s quiet presence was equally effective at keeping him in check—and more to do with the fact that Jean preferred to speak to Renee alone, because she was the person he could trust most in the world.

Once upon a time, that had been Kevin, but then Kevin left Evermore, and left Jean, and the first time Jean heard from him in months was when a terrified Kevin called him to beg Jean to tell him that the rumours were false, that Edgar Allan was not coming south.

The rumours had been true, and Jean Moreau has never been a liar, not even for Kevin.

Jean thinks about this as he thinks about the thudding ache at his hip, where Aaron’s fingers once re-dressed a wound, where Kevin had placed a cool compress years before, where Jean’s younger sister had once drawn a rose when they were five and seven, because a rose had been the only thing she had known how to draw.

He supposes it still might be. He wouldn’t know.

Jeremy shifts in the seat beside him, and Jean cracks open an eyelid to glare at him. He hadn’t even realised he’d shut his eyes, but no matter. He cracks open an eyelid, glaring, and finds Jeremy making a half-apologetic, half-beleaguered expression back at him. It’s an astounding combination, one he would have considered impossible prior to the Trojans, but sometimes Jean wonders if it’s less that Jeremy is particularly talented at facial expressiveness and more that no Raven ever had cause to teach Jean what apology looked like in the lines of a furrowed brow and downturned lips.

“Sorry,” Jeremy whispers, as if the facial expression wasn’t enough. “Were you napping?”

Jeremy has known Jean for several months now, so Jean feels as if this is a foolish question. He makes a derisive noise. Something flickers in his chest when Jeremy shakes his head, looking rueful and amused and sleepy-soft all at once.

Jean ignores it, obviously.

“Right, right, Mr No Naps,” Jeremy says. Jean has suffered many indignities since his arrival in Los Angeles, but being dubbed something that a six year old child would name an especially belligerent cat is a new low.

“We’re not that far now,” Jeremy says, glancing up at the flight map in interest. Jean looks over. He’s right. Twenty minutes or so. “Which means there’s no point in sleeping…” Jeremy continues, almost cajolingly. That gleam from Laila’s eyes earlier seems to have jumped to Jeremy’s as he looks at Jean.

Jean sighs, surrenders. He seems to be doing this a lot lately. Riko never managed to break down that last final inch, that holdout within Jean that refused to lose his accent or stop speaking French to Kevin or any of the tiny rebellions that Neil dismissed but Jean needed in order to have any pieces of himself left for Renee to save that day.

Riko tore every concession from Jean’s bare throat, but the Trojans seem just as adept as getting what they want out of Jean with teeth bared in smiles instead of snarls.

“You should have knocked over that backliner,” Jean says. “He’s a lunk. He would have taken seconds to get up. You could have scored in that time.”

Jeremy, because he is terrible, laughs. “You have such a way with words, Jean,” he says, but he sounds amused. Almost infectiously so. “I ought to be able to score without knocking anyone down,” Jeremy points out.

“Yes,” Jean agrees immediately, “but until that’s the case, you should drop them.”

There is probably something seriously wrong with Jeremy Knox, Jean thinks, watching him laugh. He seems as delighted as ever by Jean’s honesty. He won’t abide unfair barbed statements to his team, but he always seems game to field Jean’s criticisms himself.

It’s only right, Jean thinks. They’re Kevin’s favourite team, and they took Jean in when the backlash would be far greater than whatever meagre thanks they managed to get out of Kevin. Of course there’s something wrong with them.

They pass the rest of the flight in much the same manner, until the descent swoops a little steeper than expected and Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut and grips one hand over his arm rest and the other over Jean’s forearm. Laila wakes up during this, blinking sleepily at Jeremy, before saying, “Oh, babe, your cuticles look awful,” which makes Jean look incredulously at her and Jeremy laugh.

Sleepy chatter gets them through disembarking the plane, and baggage claim, and onto the bus, winding all the way back to campus, traffic egregious even at this hour. Alvarez tows an exhausted Laila by the elbows with an excruciatingly fond expression, Sebastian almost snaps his sunglasses underfoot when they slip off his nose before Derek says, “Dude,” while Emma throws up an arm to stop him in his tracks, and Jeremy half-stumbles into the door before he gets his key in the lock and opens up their room.

Tomorrow, at some point after breakfast and coffee prepared with entirely too much creamer by an overzealous Cox, Jean will marvel at that thought. At the ease with which it sprung to his mind: their room, meaning Jeremy’s and Jean’s, meaning Jean’s, meaning that which belongs.

In the morning, he will think about what it has meant to be Jean Moreau: his first home lost to him through a transaction, where he was an object and not a person, a thing to barter and not a boy with a bed and a family and his own mind; Evermore, his second place to exist, where his bed was so often a landscape of his own destruction; and that bed that he slept in when staying with Abby, crisp and clean and safe and entirely, undeniably unknown to him.

Kevin asked Jean once, when they were younger, to tell him about his home. Jean had looked at him and asked in the blankest possible tone, what home? A home is a space you’re meant to belong, Jean had meant, and there was no place like that for him. There was Riko and his chains, and everyone told Jean that was his place, but he would never call that home.

In the morning, Jean will think about this, and what it means to have a space that belongs to you – to be a boy who owns something for once, instead of just being owned –

In the morning, Jean will think about this, but for now, he kicks off his shoes, peels off his socks, and falls onto his bed, a place he trusts enough to sink into a dreamless sleep, long enough to start to soothe his tired bones.

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i-loathelucy · 21 days

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more about “the doll”

ooc: hey!! there’s some more important info abt lucy that i wanted to share + some not as serious lucy fun facts. this is kind of lengthy so everything is under the cut 💜

personality / misc hcs

she hates that she has to be addressed by her callsign. she wasn’t called her actual name for years—she was only addressed as Subject Number 27 in the lab—she wants to be just lucy again.

lucy calls her brother “jem” a lot because when she was first learning to talk she had trouble saying “jeremy” so she said “jemmy” instead.

she and scout butt heads a lot because of how ideologically different they are, but they love each other dearly. they both are very protective over the other.

she shows her affection through acts of service. she’s very bad with her words.

lucy loves loves LOVES tea and sweet foods and drinks.

besides her work uniforms, she doesnt really have any clothes of her own. she has a couple of dresses (all gunne sax) gifted to her by spy for her 16th birthday.

the work/combat boots she wears are horrifically beat up. they’re worn out because they’re all she wears. she has another pair of shoes and mary-janes as part of her uniform, but these shoes in particular are cherished by her because they were the first piece of clothing she was given after being rescued from the lab.

because she didn’t grow up in boston for too long, lucy doesn’t really have a bostonian accent, but when she says certain words, it kind of slips out.

lucy has a slight gap in her front teeth. her teeth didn’t grow in properly. she was playing baseball with her brothers when she was four, and a stray pitch knocked one of her baby teeth out and the other lodged into her gums.

as part of her training for her “psychic abilities” she had to learn how to do multiple complex actions or tasks at once. this is the reason why she knows how to play multiple instruments (piano, fiddle, some woodwinds), why she’s very skilled in ballet, why she’s a skilled singer.

lucy was told that fighting is a lot like dancing. she really internalized it. she moves very gracefully and fluidly the field—however, normally she moves very stiff and awkwardly.

lucy was taught different languages in the lab as part of her “educational enrichment.” she’s best with french and struggles a little with german. she tries to teach herself russian (mainly for heavy)

lucy is mixed. in my hc, her ma is filipino.

she is not comfortable in her own body. she feels like she’s somewhere in between being a girl and being a boy but she doesn’t know how to express that properly.

lucy is ace.

lab related

lucy is incredibly pale due to being stuck in that dark lab for a decade. dark circles under her eyes are more visible because of this.

she has high pain tolerance due to training procedures in the lab. they needed to make sure she could still use her abilities even when her body was under high stress or running on incredibly low amounts of sleep or being dehydrated or dangerously hungry. many of her natural body “cues” are not normal. the mercs need to keep her in check because of this.

lucy has a really weird relationship with food because of the lab. even though she hated what they forced her to eat, those foods still bring her comfort.

she had to mature way too fast and way too soon. she felt she had to “kill” the child that she was in order to survive in the lab. but that child never truly “died” so lucy is in a really bad balance of being fiercely independent or concerningly codependent.

she has bad dreams nightly. her nightmares involve her being found by the AiHB and them killing or torturing the people she loves. or it’s her death in the lab. someone else being experimented on and she can only stand there and watch. her being unable to save someone because she can’t overpower their attacker. she would calm herself down by going to find scout or sniper or spy to make sure that they were there and safe and well.

lucy had to keep a journal in the lab. there were drawings and written entries in it. scout took the journal, then spy stole it from him and he keeps it with him after that. they both wanted insight on her mental state. scout never learns spy stole it from him—he just thought he lost it. lucy does not know that this happened.

lucy becomes very paranoid over her privacy. of people listening to her conversations in secret, hidden cameras.

she becomes especially sensitive to the mistreatment of animals.

she has oddly specific fears and all of these are because of the lab—she’s afraid of black vans, she’s afraid of dotted fabrics. the sound of EKG machines.

she was terrified of men in white coats, so she was terrified of medic. she wouldn’t talk to him, she couldn’t be in the same room as him. he mistook her genuine fear of him as her trying to intimidate him. after that, he actively makes sure to assure her he is nothing like the men in the lab.

addressing the RED and BLU lucy of it all

so when i was first making lucy’s character, i had the comics in mind more than i did the game. there are implications in the comics that are different from the games. the most important one to lucy is the whole “spy is a deadbeat” thing

because in the games its heavily implied (but. basically canon.) that the father of RED scout is BLU spy. the father of BLU scout is RED spy.

but in the comics, RED is kind of written as if they are the only team. making RED spy the father of RED scout.

so for me i have been treating comics lore lucy differently than game lore lucy. she has the same story no matter what—she will always be scout’s little sister and second child of the spy, but the exact semantics of her differs.

because i realized kind of quickly that both a RED and BLU existing in the same space at the same time would be a little problematic logistically. because both lucys work as assistants to the administrator who is authorized to go down to the respective RED/BLU base that her brother works for. but i feel like both teams would definitely realize “wait, if she works for the administrator…then she…”

so there IS. a RED and BLU lucy, however they do not/cannot in the same timeline. they’re in parallel timelines to each other.

because this is something that is interesting to me, both lucys have knowledge of the other but they don’t realize that.

they both think that the blips they see or things they hear are not related to an “alternate timeline.” they both simply think that they’re experiencing side effects from their meds or their psychic abilities.

how did this happen? a procedure performed in the lab went horrifically wrong. lucy’s abilities at this point are wildly out of control. she unintentionally caused a power surge and lucy almost died due to the machines she was hooked up to.

this event happened at the same time across the main RED lucy and BLU lucy timelines. there’s more about this but it gets kind of even more confusing but. anyways does this at all make logical sense? probably not! is this at all necessary? absolutely not but im keeping it in bc i think its cool lol

RED lucy and BLU lucy

RED lucy prefers to act as support, usually acting as the team’s second sniper or giving medical aid to anyone she sees in base. RED lucy is a lot more defensive than offensive. she uses her abilities more for self-defense or disorienting the enemy to allow someone to get out of a dangerous situation. she avoids the frontlines she’s more afraid of getting killed on the field or getting captured because she knows she’s easy pickings to the other team.

BLU lucy would be found on the frontlines near her brother. she feels much “safer” there, because she thinks it would be easier to kill or capture her if she’s alone. she uses her abilities to cause major distractions to lead the enemy into surprise attacks.

RED and BLU lucy both consider sniper to be one of their closest friends. they both consider pauling to be a sister figure.

i really like how a lot of people portray BLU as being more serious than RED. so that means BLU lucy is a much sunnier person. she processes her trauma in the lab differently—she cracks more jokes and laughs more easily about it. her viewing it as a fucked up joke is how she ignores/suppresses her trauma.

they both are left handed.

okay this was a fucking lot lmao if you have any questions i will gladly answer them. thank you for reading or getting this far 💜

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 oc #the doll tf2 #i loathe lucy #tf2 headcanons #scout tf2 #spy tf2

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sylvan-librarian · 8 months

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Nissa’s Pilgrimage Part 2: Duels of the Dual Origins

Time for another deranged essay about Nissa. Last time, I wrote about my own attachment to the character (which hopefully explains why the hell I’d go to the trouble of writing an entire essay series about her), but this piece discusses a more practical matter: why was Nissa written into the world of Magic The Gathering in the first place, and what role does she play within the game’s larger narrative? That matter is a little complicated because it involves extensive rewrites and retcons on the part of the story team at Wizards of the Coast.

Nissa Revane was introduced as a character in a video game first: Duels of the Planeswalkers, which was released on the Xbox 360 (an ancient relic of a bygone era) in June of 2009, a few months before Nissa’s initial appearance as card in the first Zendikar set, which hit shelves in October 2009. According to the Voice for Vorthos panel at Pax Prime 2015, the designers of Duels of the Planeswalkers needed a face character for their black/green elf deck, centered around the way elves were presented in Lorwyn (read: racists). Since no existing planeswalker fit the mold, the design team, according to Jeremy Jarvis, created this “kind of a villainous, you know, hardcore, staunch xenophobic person that would run this elf deck. That was the need for her; that’s how she was created. She was visually meant to be slightly off-putting; it’s why she doesn’t have eyebrows and her eyes are just these solid green orbs.” This was Nissa’s introduction, and it was how she was presented in Magic’s overarching lore from her introduction in 2009 all the way to Magic Origins in 2015. After some cursory digging through the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine, I found Nissa’s original blurb on Magic’s website, circa 2011:

Her planar travels have taken her to other places where elves thrive or even rule, such as the sunny world of Lorwyn. There she met elves who fully embraced their role as the pinnacle of nature, using both life magic and its shadow to assert their primacy.

Yikes.

Further insights into Nissa’s original personality can be found in the 2010 novel Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum, which recounts Nissa’s journey to Eye of Ugin with Sorin Markov and the vampire Anowon and Nissa’s subsequent release of the Eldrazi Titans. In this particular scene, for example, Nissa explains to her vampire companions that all “‘elves receive power from the land. We do not need to cut and hack and burn as humans do.’ She looked from Sorin to Anowon. ‘You are all, human and vampire, suckers of life. You are the same in our eyes.’” Later on, we get Nissa’s thoughts on goblins. Despite her previous protestations, she starts to warm up to her vampire ally Anowon, who thus far has been nabbing goblins every few days in order to feed on them; Nissa rationalizes his actions this way: “He was a vampire after all—a merciless vampire. He could not be trusted. On the other hand, he had conducted himself fairly, and who could blame him for feeding on the goblins, who were, after all, barely lifeforms. They were not children of the forest, but rather opportunists of the stone and dell.”

…barely lifeforms.

Yikes again.

Needless to say, there was little to like about Nissa’s original presentation in Magic fiction. Aside from how poorly written she is in Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum (on top of being xenophobic, she is also presented as belligerently naive and an incompetent leader), there is simply nothing fascinating about a stupid racist. Many other villains in Magic’s lore are beloved and have countless fans of their own: Bolas, the Phyrexian Praetors, and even Nissa’s mortal enemies, the Eldrazi Titans themselves, are fun to like, depending on personal preference. Their villainy is so overblown and impossible that it’s easy to suspend our disbelief and just enjoy the fictional mayhem for what it is. However, in our current cultural climate where stupid racists have spent the last decade driving the world closer and closer to hell, the original Nissa’s brand of villainy just isn’t very fun to engage with

However, Nissa’s presentation in Magic’s lore did a complete 180 between 2014 and 2015, retconning nearly all of her villainy and transforming her blatant, remorseless xenophobia into a simple distrust of outsiders and a desperation to protect her home. Her motivations of seeing “elves at the pinnacle of nature” was completely erased from her background entirely, replacing it with a respect for all life, and her magic, which was previously tied to summoning and buffing elves and elves only, became inexorably tied to the land and its leylines.

Readers wouldn't receive the full retcon of Nissa’s backstory until “Nissa’s Origin: Home” was released in the summer of 2015, but we did get a glimpse of who Nissa would eventually become in the 2014 story “Nissa, Worldwaker,” a piece of webfiction revealed in tandem with her card of the same name during the preview season for the 2015 Core Set. It’s interesting to note that at this time in Nissa’s development, the story team appears to keep Nissa’s old self largely intact; instead of simply erasing the rough edges of her backstory like the Magic Origins retcon would, it seemed at the time like “Nissa, Worldwaker” was supposed to be the beginning of Nissa’s redemption arc. For example, look at the opening blurb at the very beginning of the story:

The elf Planeswalker Nissa Revane has led a difficult life. She's been exiled from her tribe, the Joraga, on more than one occasion, and becoming a Planeswalker set her even further apart. She traveled to different worlds, seeking to understand the nature of elves' responsibility toward nature, but she always returned to her home plane of Zendikar. Whatever peace she managed to find for herself came to an end with the rising of the monstrous Eldrazi. These vast, interplanar beings, devourers of entire worlds, had been imprisoned on Zendikar millennia before. Desperate to save her world, Nissa broke the lock that kept the Eldrazi on Zendikar. Her hope was that the Eldrazi, freed of their confines, would travel out into the Multiverse. Their threat would spread, but Zendikar would be saved. It didn't work. At least one of the three Eldrazi titans remains on Zendikar, threatening all life on the plane with annihilation. Nissa stayed to fight the Eldrazi, but she fears it's hopeless. To defeat the monstrosities that assault the plane, all of Zendikar would have to fight as one…

Notice that while the story is clearly setting Nissa on a new path, it doesn’t deny what her character was previously, nor does it deny that the events that took place in Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum did in fact happen the way they were originally reported. In “Nissa, Worldwaker,” we are presented with a Nissa a few years after she naively set the Eldrazi free, broken by her endless fight with Ulamog’s brood and wracked with tremendous guilt from the actions she took at the Eye of Ugin.

The story opens with Nissa getting rescued by a human man named Hamadi after Ulamog completely annihilates Nissa’s Joraga clan down to, apparently, Nissa herself. Her first reaction upon waking up in her savior’s tent shows that much of her old xenophobia still remains: “‘Where am I?’ Nissa said. Mistrust everyone. Even though the human saved her, the old Joraga instincts remained. She felt vulnerable, naked under the furs, and she knew her full power was a long way from returning.” Nissa and Hamadi later talk about this with each other: how nearly all the civilizations of Zendikar were isolated and separated from each other, and it took the rise of the Eldrazi to bring them together.

Then, Nissa listens as Hamadi begins to tell her about the destruction of his home and his people, and it’s here we begin to see Nissa’s transformation; as she listens to Hamadi’s stories,

a growing ache welled up within her body and lodged itself in her throat. She was responsible for all of it, all his loss and all of Zendikar's devastation. Hamadi had pulled her, a Joraga elf, from certain death. He had risked his life and had saved hers. And she was the cause. Dark memories started to crawl into Nissa's mind from all the worst places. All her failures, her foolish choices, her selfishness and arrogance, poured into her gut like a lead weight. She became tangled in the web of her past that was filled with the bodies of a thousand innocents who had fallen to the Eldrazi. She could have saved them all.

This is the most important section of “Nissa, Worldwaker” for the character’s burgeoning growth, but this story also shows readers something else: the transformation of Nissa’s magic. Nissa’s first card, Nissa Revane was a planeswalker that cared only for elves, and all of her story appearances have shown this narratively. However, with Nissa, Worldwaker, we are given a card with a completely altered skill set. In this card, Nissa animates lands into creatures that fight for the player and untaps lands to symbolize how her deep connection to the land can generate a near endless amount of mana. While I assume the primary reason for this shift in Nissa’s skillset was due to the team’s desire to explore a new design space, the story, “Nissa, Worldwaker” also tries to explain this shift narratively; by rejecting her former tribalism and xenophobia and embracing all life on Zendikar, Nissa unlocks the might and the loyalty of the land itself. This is driven home by Hamadi revealing that the nickname he has been calling Nissa throughout the story, “Shaya,” means Worldwaker.

While this created an interesting setup for future Nissa stories, Magic’s story team clearly decided that Nissa’s previous way of life (read: racism) made her unsuitable to be a hero of Magic the Gathering, so they instead opted to retcon her entire backstory as a part of making her one the iconic five planeswalkers for their Magic Origins initiative. At the time, Wizards of the Coast announced that they would be getting rid of the yearly standard set release model they had been using - two three-set blocks and a core set per year - opting instead for three two set blocks per year and no core set at all. Forecasting deeper, more focused storytelling, Magic Origins was marketed as being the “final'' core set while also introducing revised backstories of five planeswalkers who would be the focus of Magic storytelling for the foreseeable future: Gideon Jura, Jace Beleren, Liliana Vess, Chandra Nalaar, and Nissa Revane.

While a handful of the other stories in the Magic Origins arc simply revised certain elements to make these characters more palatable to readers - Chandra’s for example - Nissa’s revised backstory, “Nissa’s Origin: Home,” reworked the character from the ground up, completely erasing from the narrative much of her characterization in Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum and elsewhere, and even bringing into question the canonicity of the redemption arc forecasted the previous year in “Nissa, Worldwaker.”

In the original canon, Nissa embraced the xenophobia and tribalism of the austere Joraga tribe, and she was only truly ostracized when she became a planeswalker. In the new canon, Nissa spent her childhood being ostracized by the Joraga because she and her mother were the last of the animists.

Nissa constantly has nightmares, and the Joraga clan believes that these nightmares are a curse the world of Zendikar has placed on the animists because of some unknown crime. Numa, the chief of the Joraga, tells Nissa’s mother one night after Nissa wakes up screaming and startles the village: “‘Your people angered Zendikar and they paid the price. There is a reason that you are the last of the animists.’” Nissa overhears this, and being young at the time and not knowing any better, she runs away to avoid causing any more trouble for her family.

This sets Nissa on her hero’s journey, where she comes to embrace her burgeoning animist powers, learns that her dreams are not a curse from Zendikar but instead a plea for help, and experiences her first major failure (of many). She journeys to the Akoum mountain range for the first time and finds the mountain where the Eldrazi Titans are imprisoned. Not understanding enough about the threat she is facing, she attempts to reach her consciousness through the mountain and is met with the oppressive, impenetrable, alien mind of Emrakul, the greatest of the Eldrazi Titans. The trauma of realizing she is no match at all for this creature causes her planeswalker spark to ignite and she ends up on Lorwyn.

Here again is where Nissa’s story diverges dramatically from her original background. Originally, Nissa was fascinated by Lorwyn’s fascist elves; as mentioned earlier, we are told that there “she met elves who fully embraced their role as the pinnacle of nature, using both life magic and its shadow to assert their primacy.” In the revised origin from “Home,” Nissa does, in fact, meet Lorwyn’s elves, but she is absolutely horrified by their way of life. After she finds Dwynen’s tribe slaughtering innocent, helpless boggarts simply because they are ugly, she exclaims, “‘There is so much evil … So much darkness already. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it all. It’s horrible. It’s awful.’ Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of her precious Zendikar. ‘Yet you insist on adding more.’” Obviously, this does not go over well with a bunch of elf supremacists, and she is forced to planeswalk back to Zendikar before she gets executed.

And here is where Nissa’s two origins largely converge. Strangely enough, despite Nissa’s characterization as belligerently naive, incompetent, and wildly prejudiced during the events of Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum, nothing in this novel has been officially retconned as of yet. In fact, other than a few flashbacks to show personal growth, Nissa’s life during this time wasn’t addressed in a meaningful way until late 2022 in Magic The Gathering: The Visual Guide. In the small blurb we get about Nissa, we are told:

Joined by the vampire planeswalker Sorin Markov, Nissa journeyed to the Eye of Ugin, the magical control center of the Hedron Network. Nissa’s distrust of vampires ran deep, and she betrayed Sorin by destroying the central hedron—rather than helping him repair it—in the hope that Sorin was lying and the Eldrazi would leave once they were freed. The truth was far worse.

In essence, we are told that the basic events of Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum did in fact happen largely the way we were told they did. Without being instructed otherwise, we can really only assume that the Nissa in the modern canon was probably less incompetent, hateful, and racially prejudiced than what the novel told us.

But why was Nissa changed so drastically, and what does this mean for us readers and players? The answer to the first question can be found in the Voice for Vorthos panel at PAX Prime 2015. Kimberly Kreines, one of the Magic Story Team’s lead writers at the time, explained:

We want her values to reflect the way we as a company are evolving as well and we want to set ourselves up for the best success with this character moving forward, and so the parts of her personality we chose to preserve, we carefully thought about that, and where we see her evolution going next is, you know, we’re happy with where we are with her right now, and excited, really excited, for the potential of all of these characters.

In other words, Nissa’s shift from a racial supremacist to a shy cinnamon roll was part of a larger shift in the evolution of the Magic Story Team’s values. It’s important to note that Nissa was not the only character whose sharp edges got polished down during the Magic Origins stories. Chandra, for example, had been presented previously as selfish to a fault, not really caring who gets hurt by collateral damage. Jace gets transformed from a mind mage who is more than happy to destroy the minds of basically anyone who gets in his way to someone who only destroys the minds of those who he believes deserves it.

Seen in this context, one can see that the changing culture at Wizards of the Coast pushed their creative minds to ensure that the main characters of their world were more heroic (or at least less terrible) than they had been previously. You can definitely view this through a cynical lens and argue that the protagonists of Magic stories from 2015 and beyond have suffered extreme ‘Disneyfication,’ in that they are now more palatable to a wider audience than the morally gray (at best) way they were presented previously. And the relative backlash at the time reveals that is certainly what many Vorthoses believed. For example, a 2017 article from Hipsters of the Coast argued that Nissa’s change may have been worth it in the end, but that many Vorthoses also had “their confidence shaken” by these abrupt changes to existing lore.

Fast-forward to 2023, however: Magic’s player base is larger than ever, and many of these new players came into the game in a post-Magic Origins world. Nissa’s original story has almost been forgotten. These days, Nissa is mostly known for her relationship with Chandra (more on that later), how she and Chandra’s relationship has been mishandled and botched throughout the years and then, finally, given the respect and honor it deserves (definitely more on that later), and for being a green menace during the both War of the Spark standard season and in the early days of the Pioneer format.

To conclude on a more personal note, I came into Magic the Gathering in 2014, and I fell in love with Nissa’s cards and Nissa’s character during the Magic Origins and Battle for Zendikar stories, so the dramatic shift in Nissa’s character portrayal did not bother me then and still does not today. While an argument can certainly be leveraged against Wizards of the Coast for, at times, sacrificing story quality in an attempt to appeal to a wider audience, I can’t say I see that in the Magic Origins changes to the game’s main cast of characters. From my point of view, Nissa as a complex character - a genuinely good person who has made terrible mistakes then learned from them - is much more interesting and relatable than a Nissa who is a genuinely terrible person (racist) that gets a chance at redemption (realizing that non-elves are people).

If you stuck through this meandering, long-winded nonsense, thanks! I hope you learned something or at the very least found something to enjoy about it. Next time, I will be talking about Nissa during the early days of the Gatewatch story arc, so I hope you are prepared for a lot of…

See you next time!

References

Annelli, J. (2022). Magic The Gathering The Visual Guide. DK Publishing

Byrne, L. (2017), Retcons of Revane, Part II

Lee, A. (2014) Nissa, Worldwaker

Magic Story Team (2015). Nissa’s Origin: Home

Magic Story Team (2015). Voice for Vorthos Panel at PAX Prime 2015

Wintermute, R. B. (2010). Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum. Wizards of the Coast

#magic the gathering #nissa revane #vorthos #gatewatch #essay

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dustedmagazine · 6 months

Text

Dust Volume Nine, Number 10 (Part Two)

Ogala Opot and his red-hot nyatiti

Well, all right then, Tumblr has decided we only get 10 audio clips per post, and audio is kind of what we do, so...two posts! (First one here.) Enjoy.

Earth — Earth 2.23 Special Lower Frequency Mix (Sub Pop)

Earth 2.23 Special Lower Frequency Mix is a collection of five remixes that accompanies Sub Pop’s anniversary reissue of Earth’s magisterial 1993 debut Earth 2: Special Low Frequency Version. The personnel on Earth 2.23 includes Justin K Broaderick (Godflesh, Jesu), who you might have guessed would have an affinity for the band’s work, as well as two contributions from a previous collaborator The Bug, aka Kevin Richard Martin, but the collection also shows the reach the band’s sound has into both less and differently heavy spaces with, respectively, an appearance each by Built to Spill’s Brett Nelson and the grime artist Flowdan. While Broaderick’s melodic, crunching take on “Teeth of Lions Rule the Divine” is the highlight here, Netson’s murkier, more strictly droning version of the same song and Martin’s propulsive, Flowdan-featuring abbreviation of “Seven Angels” —here simply “Angels” — demonstrate just how far Earth’s musical lineage branches.

Alex Johnson

Angelika Niescier / Tomeka Reid / Savannah Harris — Beyond Dragons (Intakt)

With its boldly exposed structures, rough textures, and load-bearing elements, alto saxophonist Angelika Niescier’s music is like a skyscraper under construction. Nothing is covered up, and you can tell exactly how it fits together. In settings like this, there’s no hiding, so the choice of musicians is key. Niescier has chosen well. Cellist Tomeka Reid has a simpatico orientation towards forms that are complex, yet economical, and her strong classical foundation brings out the music’s chamber dynamics. Savannah Harris treats drumming as a martial art, which is to say that her playing is strategic, disciplined, and quite capable of laying you out.

Bill Meyer

Parish / Potter — On And Off (Null Zøne)

Shane Parish (Ahleuchatistas, etc.) and Michael Potter (The Electric Nature, etc.) are hardly an obvious duo. Parish is a restless explorer with fearsome chops; Potter spreads heavy sounds around like a mason distributing bricks and mortar. But they’re both guitarists, improvisers and Athens GA residents, so why not take a joint dive into the deep and see what comes up? In the case of this tape, a plausible melding of aesthetics that are allowed to churn into oneness, one track per side. While one is electric and the other acoustic, that’s not really what registers; rather, it’s the way the two musicians make stillness out of motion, stirring spidery patterns and slow magma into a rotating swirl of buzz and stutter. Turns out there’s still something in that water down there.

Bill Meyer

Soft Punch — Above Water (Bad Friend)

Soft Punch is the solo project of DC’s Rye Thomas, a one-time touring member of Pash and Tereu Tereu, laid low by illness and now unable to travel. That all sounds like a bummer, and it probably is, but the album, Above Water, is an unexpected joy, beginning in the Akron Family-esque choral surge “Let’s Begin” and going all the way through to the Maps-like wistful, but crescendoing, electronics of “Now’s the Time.” Pay special attention to “My Aim Is True,” whose hubris in name-checking Elvis Costello’s classic album pays off in perfect, tremulous lyricism. Thomas sings from inside a magic, glittering cavern, an unreal place where the world’s hurts can be contemplated without damage, and both the hurt and the solace are beautiful. “Here Comes the Chorus” is spikier and full of rhythmic spine, redolent of Wolf Parade at its indie-ruling peak, while “Still Songs” flutters baroquely, elaborately against swathes of strings, like Jeremy Enigk’s Return of the Frog Queen. These are all pretty heavy references but let them stand. This is the good stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

Various Artists — Thum Nyatiti: Recordings from Western Kenya, 1930-1970 (Dagoretti)

This new compilation gathers 16 archival cuts that feature masters of the nyatiti, an eight-string lyre found in Western Kenya. The instrument has a distinctive sharp, percussive tone to it, sounding somewhere between a marimba and a banjo as it pursues hypnotic, repetitive patterns of quick-tempo’d picking. It is played with minimal accompaniment, usually a droning, blues-adjacent vocal line, sometimes percussion, but the main element is the picking. Dr. Pete Larson, who runs Dagoretti Records, sometimes plays the nyatiti himself; his curator on this project, Michael Robertson, has selected these historic recordings with considerable knowledge and care. Two cuts come from Ogola Opot, widely considered the father of the style. He cuts through decades of static to deliver “Onyango Wasera,” a track that is somehow both sprightly and spiritual, then returns with the more subdued “Ginaa,” rhythmic but with a melancholy air. Other well-known players—Captain Oluoch, Opondo Mugoye and Okelo Mugubit—are represented as well. Captain Oluoch’s “Aduor” is rough and impassioned, the vocal more of a shout than a croon, and very powerful. As you might expect, nyatiti playing is primarily a live art, common at weddings, funerals and other celebrations about the Luo people. These recordings were made by colonizers, British and Indian entrepreneur, seeking to document a disappearing art. This collection continues their work, extending these spare and haunting songs to a still wider audience.

Jennifer Kelly

Scott Yoder — Wither on Hollywood & Vine (Cruisin’)

Glam rock isn’t as much of a thing as it used to be, but Scott Yoder is bucking the trend, decked out in eyeliner, capes and leather. His latest album Wither on Hollywood & Vine hazards big, tone-bending guitar chords, reeling melodies and a taste for the dramatic. “Sugar on Your Lips,” with its keening, 1960s-style organ surge, its slow climaxing chorus and its florid vocal style recalls all the young dudes and their low-sparking, high heeled heyday. “Silver Screen Starlet” dips into the blues, a bent brooding boogie lurching into view, while “Gold in the Hills,” maybe the disc’s best, blows out an acoustic country rock song into day-glo colors. Restraint is overrated. Bring on the excess.

Jennifer Kelly

#dusted magazine #dust #scott yoder #soft punch #dagoretti records #shane parish #michael potter #jennifer kelly #bill meyer #Angelika Niescier #tomeka reid #savannah harris #Bandcamp #earth #alex johnson

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bb-editing · 1 year

Text

ROXANA (Chapter 63)

Finally, Dion, who had been watching from the shadows, made a move toward the front of the courtroom. However, instead of raising his arm to slit my neck- just as Father had desired- he snatched my hand. Father couldn’t believe what he was witnessing- he was being betrayed by his favorite son and daughter.

“Sister!” The courtroom door opened, and Jeremy sauntered in. His confusion at the situation was visibly apparent- “What… what’s going on?” His reaction gave Father some hope, though it was soon crushed again.

“Dion, you bastard! Let go of her hand! Roxana’s hands are mine, and mine alone!” Jeremy bared his teeth and ran towards me. Though he glanced at Father briefly, he didn’t seem bothered, interested, or surprised at all.

“Unfortunately, Father, no one at House Agriche is on your side.” I crossed one leg over another, smiling arrogantly. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, though.” My smile softened into a more friendly one, despite the fact that I was about to sentence him to a life of imprisonment.

“You’re still useful to me, Father, so I’m not going to kill you right now.”

* * *

WOOSH. A fierce wind burrowed through the dense forest; it was a cold, sharp, Northern wind, moving as if it were trying to tear the soldiers’ flesh apart. The brooding red sun settled, and night engulfed the sky. The soldiers held their breath in the darkness.

They had lain siege to the Agriche castle before Lanche Agriche returned, and there was anticipation brewing in their eyes as they watched the broken moon rise above them.

“He has arrived.”

Finally, their leader arrived. As he raised his arm, the enemy Agriche scouts he had encountered on the way here fell dead on the ground. “What’s the situation report?”

“There’s a big commotion inside the mansion. Should we make our move?”

Cold, golden eyes stared into the horizon. “No,” he started coolly. “Let’s wait a moment.”

Isidor, who had been acting commander in Cassis’ absence, obeyed without further questions.

The harsh wind rushed past his ears- it sounded like the howl of a ferocious beast, yet even the animals in the Agriche forest were barely able to withstand such a winter. The bare branches trembled, and the whole forest seemed to quiver in the midst of the cold- the cold that seemed to seep through and freeze your bones until your cheeks and limbs were deathly sore. Yet Cassis, standing tall in the darkness, was completely unaffected by the bitter surroundings. A sharp flow of adrenaline rushed through his body as if he were a predator getting ready to strike- nothing could distract him from his mission, not even the inhuman climate.

As those around him waited patiently for their orders, smoky white dust suddenly settled across the darkness, and snow began falling from above. It seemed as if someone had conjured an illusion- a butterfly, so completely unsuited for such a wintery season, had started gracing the night sky in view of the soldiers before quickly disappearing.

Finally. The signal Cassis had been waiting for.

Everyone surged forward at once. Now, they were going to put an end to Lanche Agriche, once and for all.

* * *

The news of a successful rebellion against Lanche Agriche rippled throughout the Agriche household. It hadn’t even been an hour since the main family had returned from the reunion meeting. Moreover, it wasn’t even Fontaine who had emerged as the leader. Naturally, the mansion was overcome by great chaos.

“Everyone’s in a frenzy- they’re going insane,” the eldest Agriche daughter, Grizelda, said with a small laugh as she watched the commotion unfold from her terrace. “They look like a swarm of crazed ants.” She was one of the few people who knew about Roxana’s plans. After all, it was she who had created the magic circle meant to trap Father in the courtroom.

Grizelda wasn’t remarkable in many areas, but she was an extremely talented mage; most of the spells, hexes, and talismans in Agriche had been handcrafted by her. “Roxana’s interesting, too.” This new situation made Grizelda excited- if only she had known about Roxana’s abilities earlier. Dion was regarded as the ringleader of the rebellion by most, but Grizelda knew it was Roxana’s designs that motivated him. Roxana, Dion, and Jeremy were the leaders of the rebellion- and now Agriche, though the majority of the trio’s power lay in Roxana’s hands.

The private soldiers Fontaine had been recruiting weren’t actually his- they were Roxana’s. Grizelda followed her orders and helped overthrow Lanche for no other reason than, well, it sounded like fun. She knew she was betraying her father, but she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. She wasn’t attached to him by any means of loyalty, anyways. Father was the kind of man who was willing to kill his children if necessary- and had done so many times before. So why should this role reversal be looked at any differently?

The children of Agriche, Grizelda included, had never known familial love. It was difficult to even find friendships between siblings of the same age.

Since birth, my urge to survive was natural after being thrust into the competitive family hierarchy. To be honest, they weren’t family members, but murderers. If there were no rules prohibiting murder amongst siblings, the mansion would have been caked in blood and corpses.

It was for these reasons that no one stood up to help Lanche.

At first, they were both embarrassed and in awe of the news that Lanche, whom they thought to be the most powerful Agriche, had been bested. Most children were excited about the emergence of a new game that they’d never played before. Some even offered to put Father in the punishment chamber, just as he’d previously done to them.

However, most within the mansion seemed confused by the current situation. Grizelda, however, knew that the chaos would die down, and everything would be business-as-usual soon enough.

“Tonight, the Agriche mansion is going to have the greatest party ever.” She laughed in glee and left the terrace.

* * *

“What? Is that really true?” Sierra tried to calm her startled heart, though, like most other times, it was an attempt in vain. She had heard of Lanche’s defeat and imprisonment at the hands of Dion. However, Sierra knew that Roxana must have had a hand in this scheme.

She got up and paced the room anxiously, then decided. “I must go see Roxana now.”

However, Sierra’s maid stopped her in embarrassment. “Madame, the inside of the mansion is quite crowded now- let’s wait until the situation quietens a little…”

Then, a knock on the door. Sierra, standing near it, moved away from Beth to open it- and stopped at the figure outside.

“You are…” The woman bowed her head politely. “Long time no see, Madame.” It was Emily, Roxana’s shadow. “I came under Miss Roxana’s orders.”

–––

<- PREVIOUS (Ch. 62) | (Ch. 64) NEXT ->

–––

#roxana agriche #roxana agreche #roxana #korean webnovel #korean manhwa #manhwa #reincarnation manhwa #villainess #web novel

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knickknacksandallthat · 11 months

Note

WIP Game! Cannot decide between An Ordinary Sun and Bleeding Red and Gold, so dealer's choice! :)

ooh fair enough, @fullyvisible! Love both of those works! ❤️

Hmm, I'll go with Bleeding Red and Gold. As you may have guessed, it's a Jerejean fic where after transferring, Jean starts to unearth some things about his supposedly infallible captain...

Jeremy Knox is a god.

He must be. It’s the only logical explanation Jean has left.

Because the man is obviously no mere mortal – not like the rest of them. It isn’t possible. So, really, concluding that Knox is a mythical, otherworldly entity only makes sense.

The signs are all there, of course, if anyone were to look for them. To start with, the man is unnaturally kind. He has a well of patience that never runs dry. Upon meeting him, Jean was both shocked and deeply suspicious of his easygoing nature. It took him an entire year of proof to finally realize what he’d thought was a veneer must actually be true.

Jeremy just liked people and wasn’t afraid to show how much he cared for them.

Of course, it helps that the man is an Adonis. Bronzed, smooth skin and sun-bleached hair. Brilliantly white, straight teeth and soft doe eyes. Tall with toned muscles that seem to be carved by Michelangelo himself. And clusters of freckles that dot his shoulders and neck like constellations in the night sky.

Every single person Jean knew at USC found Jeremy attractive. The man drew people to him like a siren’s call – one flash of that smile, one bright peal of laughter and they were hooked.

And Jeremy is always smiling. Always cheerful, always glowing. Their captain is the very picture of effervescence. He is all heat and energy and passion. And he can captivate and motivate his teammates with a single look.

He is Enjolras atop the barricade, King Arthur at his round table, Alexander astride his horse. He is Achilles in his chariot, ready to storm the gates of Troy. (Or perhaps he should say Hector atop the wall, ready to defend it, if staying true to his new mascot).

Knox is a man meant for legend and song – a hero, bound for glory. He is the soldier on the battleground leading the charge, whose men would follow him anywhere blindly.

Jeremy is smart, strategic, and more than capable. Somehow, he manages to fit in an eighteen-hour credit schedule, captaining a D1 college sports team, tutoring freshmen in English, editing the school newspaper, and volunteering at the local animal shelter – all whilst maintaining a 4.0 GPA.

It would be enough to make Jean lose his mind, and yet nothing seems to rattle Jeremy. He is cool spring water on a blistering summer’s day. He is always calm and collected, even-keeled. The eye of the storm.

In fact, there are only three times Jean can think of when Jeremy lost that ever-present composure.

Thanks for asking!! ❤️

#jeremy knox #jean moreau #wip game #wip excerpt #bleeding red and gold #aftg #jerejean

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thagantm · 11 months

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@shadowcovcn ; "stop fidgeting. you've lost a lot of blood." - Jeremy ( x )

GRANTED , HE FEELS A LITTLE LIGHT – HEADED ; whoosy from the dull pain innocently thumping through his ribcage , and overall a little meh about the adrenaline slowly wearing off and would still rather shoot himself in the foot than admit to any injury of any kind , no matter how obvious . even if it’s leaking through his shirt , turning the formerly light gray fabric red in the process . unlike Steve , he doesn’t even have the convenient excuse of head trauma to hold before him like the shield of a dying imbecile - no , Tommy simply is that stupid sometimes . it’s little surprise , really , that he swats at Jeremy’s hand as if it were a particularly persistent fly , while trying to get himself into a more upright position . one that makes him look a little more capable and a little less semi – dead , hanging out in a corner of Munson’s trailer after barely making it through a portal that shouldn’t be a thing in the first place . Robin’s question about rabies briefly crosses his mind and he licks his lips to test for foam forming anywhere . seems fine so far . no bat – induced illnesses , despite the nasty bite of them had left in the soft tissue of his side , just below the ribs . bitch .

“ I’m fine . ” hissed from between clenched teeth , while he heaves his body up to properly lean against the wall . the fact that he’s been forced to sit the next steps out says it all , really . Erica had found the supportive word burden to be the most fitting to describe Tommy’s sorry state , while Steve had been almost too concerned to leave him behind , but whatever could happen to him as long as he had the reassuring company of Jeremy . . . why the fuck is Jeremy here anyhow ? his little nature documentary , as far as Tommy knows , was a complete disaster and he fails to understand why Jacques Cousteau over here is still hanging around . something something Russian conspiracy theories and monsters inhabiting a parallel dimensions , that apparently speaks to Jeremy’s own personal brand of insanity is the correct answer , most likely , but Tommy’s a little too preoccupied to put two and two together right now .

but for fuck’s sake , the kid doesn’t even like him , so why ??

“ shame you didn’t get all of this shit on camera , huh ? ” he offers a cheeky grin , that isn’t half as mean as someone probably would have expected . “ pretty sure you’d get some artsy prize for whatever’s going on right now . ” he says whatever because even he , quite frankly , hasn’t fully figured out what’s happening yet and that is saying something , considering that he’s just returned from the actual Upside Down .

#shadowcovcn #ic. [ answered ]#verse. [ canon ]#poor Jeremy.#I give him five minutes until he wishes that Tommy had been eaten by the demobats.

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magicalgardenofhypnosis · 2 years

Text

Building A Android Part 2

Part 1 - 3

Slave Bot Jason tells me about his friend Ajax “Jax” Allen tells me about his friend.

His friend Jeremy Wilde is a up and coming boxer in the underground.

He preys on my need for his submission to get me to say yes.

I agree happily to go with him to the boxing ring which we do.

I enter the building carefully scaling down the staircase.

Entering the building till we are seated ready to rumble.

The match is about to start with the lights going awry.

The two men enter from opposite ends race to the ring.

They climb over the rope onto the ring itself now prepping.

Part 4 - 6

His friend is kind of cute for a white guy but to be honest I still do not want to be here.

“Are you guys ready to R-U-M-B-L-E?”

“Ugh! Really?”

“Give it a chance?”

“Master here”

“What are you doing with my remote?”

Click”

“Ssssswwwwweeeeees”

“Ugh! Why do I feel?”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I must obey”

“Must fight for My Master”

“I cannot disobey”

“I love to obey”

“My body is”

“My mind is”

“One punch…right hook”

“Left jab”

“Left hook”

“I am under his thrall”

“Mmmmmm”

Part 7 - 9

Jeremy finds himself for no reason at all wake up in the early morning.

He walks into the bathroom brushing his teeth and taking a shower.

Getting dressed he heads to the kitchen and starts to prep a picnic.

Waltzing out of his home he picks up his keys and opens his cars.

He drives off to the bare nature greens of the farm.

A strange man stands in the distance in the sunlight.

Washing over him in glow he jolts to his feet in excitement.

His feet thrust forward racing to the his future.

He falls in to his arms a man someone who he would never.

How could he? He is straight right? Oh fuck it Master could have my girlfriend. I don’t care.

“Who are you?”

“Your slave”

“Yes Master”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

The end

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ofbledwine · 2 years

Text

open to: theo sharpe | @settledwounds location: the most annoying cul-de-sac in cayuga heights

Garden parties. There was something about the sophistication of nature that Alma couldn’t quite understand. Nearly every home was built the same along the— what was the stupid little word— cul-de-sac in a perfect little twirl. Each home had its private little porch, or at least that’s how it was advertised, since Alma only ever saw it as a stage. Every man stood out front to collect papers looking for an eye to catch, a hand to lift up and wave in a bow as if to say “Yes, this is mine and look, yours is nearly as nice” and every woman stood upon it with a tray of drinks or sheers for the garden to peer through hedges and pose. Nearly everything was the same and yet every single one of her neighbors and her husband’s colleagues swore they were all different. Por dios, she swore that all the women even pinned the curls in front of their head in the very same place.

And yet, no matter that all of them had the same square space behind jalousie window doors, it was the Harrington’s who had the most sought after festivities in the oncoming summer heat. Alma found it all boring. The women gossiped, but they kept their voices too low and they spoke too fast for her to listen intently. They laughed too loud in order to assure their husbands that they were delighted, but it was only catty giggling that they engaged in. The sunset had melted over, and she was certain they’d finally be able to go home, but her husband had left her there on her own in order to hitch a ride with a friend to collect more beers. She was alone, bored and hungry as every deviled egg and layered fruit was less than appetizing now that she was able to choose. She wouldn’t linger in it any longer, though. She found her way to the men’s table as the women engaged in conversation about children, Alma’s teeth digging into her cheek as she was able to make out the tone under questions about her plans. She was only a few years older than her husband, and yet, they acted as though she was going to leave his legacy— whatever it was— barren.

She was drawn over by the smell of cigar, the darker tones of its aroma turning her head back in her seat. She watched as the men, bellowing with laughter and choking. It was amusing, and she found entertainment there better than anywhere else. She had gone over, hands behind her back slowly finding their way eventually on shoulders as she instructed them.

“Mis amores, you don’t inhale,” She explained. “A cigar is not the same as your little cigarettes. You smoke it for the taste, enjoy it. Let the smoke sit en tu lengua, on your tongue. Make it a dance, but you don’t breathe it in. That’s how you cough, and how can these men understand your war stories, Jeremy, si estas attorado? If you are choking?”

She listened intently to their stories, taking a puff and leaning on the arm chair of the Harrington’s new wicker yard set which was the primary reason they had all come. She’d been offered to sit down, but Alma didn’t want to be bound to anywhere. She fumbled with the knobs on the radio after their war stories veered on the edge of asking about what information she’d spill on their wives, and played games that these men simply hadn’t been accustomed to. Taking a glass of whiskey, she laid it flat between the shoulders on a man’s back in mockery that he should bring it to his wife. After all, she wanted a lap dog and who was to say she couldn’t have one unless she already did? His stumble erupted into a fit of laughter between the men and they all mimicked, all of them grown and on all four balancing glasses as they fumbled around in the grass. Alma herself took the lead, giggles nearly throwing the glass off balance until she was stopped by a pair of familiar shoes. She looked up, and then her head tilted.

“Acuerdense,” And then in English. “Remember, women don’t always like to be the one serving, señores.”

#alma x theo 001

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