#(by implication đ)
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text

friens :)
#a wholesome moment? In MY conspirator hammering simulator?!#(its more likely than you think)#gee I sure hope circumstances donât cause them to be at odds with and potentially try to kill each other đ#i'm happy to see i was right in my assumption that they are (or at least were) friends#but V just enjoys messing with them#(i've been validated)#though I am curious if these two are meant to represent them as childhood friends in their âcurrentâ life#or if this is a âthem in a previous lifeâ thing (kinda assuming the latter)#also i know it was probably just done to avoid having to create two different models for this brief encounter#but i love the implication that these two have the same taste in fashion and hairstyles#mercury is not beating the enby allegations C:#ramblings#psychopomp gold spoilers#psychopomp spoilers#psychopomp#psychopomp venus#psychopomp mercury
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Truly where would I be without the emotional support of my coworkers
#we all RAN to the group chat after it was announced j*maal b*wman lost his primary#the implications this will have for future elections⊠đ#i was going to go to sleep but now iâm mad =/#i'm gwen and i approve this message
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
we can do difficult things wednesday! (quest) - hoover - comment on a local planning application. i have been putting this off for A While due to never having done this before so i'm applying my trick 'rough estimate for how long it would take and COMMIT', so worst case scenario i will spend 20 minutes attempting this and will fail. most likely scenario is that once i've started i'll just figure it out and finish it but it'll take longer than that time chunk, but the hardest thing is starting! so giving myself an out by setting it as a '20 minute attempt' means i think i can start it đ - groceries list/order - write card (:
#its wednesday quest#i woke up with even worse neck pain this morning somehow after using my new pillow?? so also on this list might be 'order different one'#if i am equally in pain tomorrow. đthe last dr i saw was on the fence about like. muscle stuff being implicated in migraine but my headache#are WAY WORSE when my neck and back and shoulders are in even more pain and tightness than my regular Quite High amount#and improve when i figure out the exact right stretch/movements to briefly alleviate them so like. okay.#and i DO tend to feel worse when i wake up specifically pain-wise so i'm pretty sure something is Not Right with the way i'm sleeping#like. body wise. like something's up with my neck/shoulders/hypermobility/pillow uhhhhhhhh interaction.#also i'm not gonna base my belief on that dr bc no offence they're not the expert and most significantly we did not specifically talk about#that. like i was there for something else this was just on my peripheral list of things to mention that tied into the main thing.#ANYWAY the point is i've reached the I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS point once again so this is a small thing that i can actually do.#my body is feeling so so bad at the moment and i can't see a light at the end of the tunnel. i need a break. this year's been so rough.
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
i feel you on the grade anxiety so much, i was so stressed in high school over a slightest grade drop and am still stressing now in college so i completely get youđ
Yeah I've been like this my entire life. It's actually so bad đ and it doesn't even matter because this class is pass/fail but it's an English class and I feel so utterly stupid for misunderstanding the assignment and mucking it up. I know the hurt of it will fade eventually but right now it stings so hard.
If you ever find out how to divorce grades from self worth please lmk đ
#inbox#i think it was the quality of my writing that saved me from getting lower bc according to the feedback i didnât meet the assignment đ lol#maybe i should look at it that way. as a testament to my writing instead of an implication that i can't write#she also said i could've researched more but oh well#i guess it's all about perspective#ignore me i'm just thinking out loud
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
They just banned TikTok at my college. No school wifi for me I guess đ
(please read the tags)
#I do not wanna think about the implications of a censor like this that was allowed and encouraged by the state atm#so that is all I am gonna say on the matter for now at least. I have too much homework to be thinking too hard about this rn#And conservatives will still say I'm living in the ''free-est state''...I hate it here đ#fuck florida#fuck desantis#and fuck this tyrannical af government we have.#The censorship and attack on education here is fucking crazy. I am telling you. If house bill 999 passes do not come to Florida for college#I have no idea if my college is gonna stay accredited or if any Florida college is if this bill gets passed! IT'S THAT BAD!!#Thank god I'm not getting a degree at my college for ANY SCIENCE THAT EXISTS AMIRITE?!#THE BILL LITERALLY HAS ONE PART OF IT IN WHICH THE LANGUAGE IS SO VAGUE THAT IT COULD BAN SCIENTIFIC THEORIES FROM GEN ED#AND THIS SHIT COULD EASILY PASS#THAT'S NOT EVEN MENTIONING THE BANNING OF GENDER STUDIES AFRICAN AMERICAN STUDIES JEWISH STUDIES AND A HELL OF A LOT MORE SHIT#ANY PROGRAMS OR ANYTHING TO DO WITH DIVERSITY OR INCLUSION OR EQUITY ARE BANNED IN THIS BILL#GOD I HATE IT HERE#politics#florida#education#censorship#ramblings
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
mmmm im back to once again wanting to gatekeep last twilight from some of y'all!!! you don't deserve it!!! im calling up gmmtv as we speak and having them geoblock the show specifically from your house!!!
#where's that crutches and spice tweet abt all of the convoluted ways people show just how much they hate disabled people bc....girl......#the things some of y'all deign yourself to say without even realizing the implications of whay you're saying.....đđđ
0 notes
Text

OHHHH SHOOT NOT THE TORTURE TRIO đšđšđ°đ°
ACT 1
ACT 2
ACT 3 - 1 <<< 6 / 7 / ?
Might as well make these guys a trio to rival our three Bois.
Dry Bones being the nicest one of the three lol. I also thought itïżœïżœïżœd be funny if Shy Guy drew on Dry Bonesâ skull while heâs not looking. Jigglypuff vibes xD.
#I was hoping Luigiâs speed would disorient the Koop guard too much for him to notice who they were#but nope đđ#the little doodles on the back of Dry Bonesâ head tho đđ#strange how the same trio who tortured poor PK is making me laugh while also filling me with dread đ
#and ah frick not the super horn đ°đ°#OH SHOOT THE LAST PANEL MADE ME SHIVER#how on earth do you make a Koopa now Paratroopa look so sinister đ°đ„#and considering the Shy Guyâs earlier implication of hurting LumaleeâŠoh boy đ°đ°đ°#the super mario bros movie#super mario bros movie#super mario movie#mario movie#luigi#lumalee#toad#koopa troopa#paratroopa#shy guy#dry bones#fan art#fanart
722 notes
·
View notes
Text
k
#im talking about how i like this game but thanks you guys đ#hes fine but the other guys comment kinda bugged me#wowwww thank you for those implications after i made it very clear im passionate about this game đ#that felt so rude for no reason..#im not gonna say anything bc i dont wanna start anything but man#so glad you felt like you had to comment u dropped deltarune midway through chapter 2 should we throw a party?
0 notes
Text
Hiiiii! So Iâm not super thrilled with this but Iâve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could đ
Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh weâll see!
Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.
Carrion
Reader comes back Wrong
Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated âpactâ (by background character), lack of wound care
The breakup was bad.
Not in the top 3 of Simonâs worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. Heâs haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.
On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.
Your misery wanted no company, though.
You didnât tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, youâd be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.
Simon didnât go to see you off. Didnât ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didnât wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.
He should have.
Price says youâll be gone for six months. Just six. Itâs better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you werenât able to do it with them.
So. Six months.
Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.
183 days come and go.
On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month⊠one more mission⊠one moreâŠ
Six months turns to ten.
312 days since you left; since you were home.
The team hasnât stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says sheâll pass along well wishes.
The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.
374 days. Twelve months and some change.
They donât spend the holidays with you, but thereâs a stack of presents waiting in Priceâs office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.
Laswell says youâre still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.
487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.
561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but youâre alright. Just a bit of recovery.
Youâre coming home.
590 days. Youâll land at 0700 tomorrow.
Itâs been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.
Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. Sheâs the first off the transport and youâre right behind her.
Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. Thereâs a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.
Apart from that, you look⊠almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. Thereâs invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But youâre there again. Just the way he remembers.
(Why are you the way he remembers?)
âLong time, no see,â Gaz calls, reaching for you.
Thereâs half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.
Then you grin and reach back.
âMissed my pretty face, did you?â you reply.
Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.
âGood to have you back, Sergeant,â Price says, shaking your hand.
You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. âGhost.â
So thatâs how itâll be? Alright.
âSergeant.â
That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.
(Not that you seem to need reassurance. Itâs not even that youâre not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesnât linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)
When Johnny mixes up your usual for Priceâs, you donât even seem to notice. But Simon does.
âWhen did you start drinking whiskey?â he wonders.
You used to swear youâd never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the âBoys Clubâ wasnât worth the indigestion it gave you.
âSomeone from my other team,â you say by way of explanation.
You donât ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.
Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. Thereâs only the light above the sink on, and youâre staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. Youâre already wearing gloves.
âSugarâs in the left now,â he calls.
Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.
âOh, thanks,â you chirp, turning for the cabinet. âSleep okay, LT?â
ââBout as well as I ever do,â he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.
You hum. Thereâs a yellow packet in your hand. (Didnât you used to like the blue one?)
âI get that,â you sympathize.
He snorts. Since when?
âDo you?â
When he glances down, youâre not looking at him. Instead, youâre trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.
âYou know thatâs been broken for ages,â he says.
At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.
âRight,â you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. âWell, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.â
You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.
Youâre back and itâs like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.
Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.
Heâs half expecting, dreading, that youâll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.
But you donât. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.
You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simonâs orders. Train recruits. Write reports.
Youâre back, better than ever.
So why does it feel like Simonâs still waiting for you to return?
Youâre always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down youâre in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.
It doesnât occur to anyone until youâre sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, âwhy not just take it off?â
âItâs not that bad,â you laugh, waving him off.
When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - heâs seen it too.
You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, youâd mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.
âWhat, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethinâ?â Johnny asks finally.
You blink at him, expression bemused. âA tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?â
âYer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.â
You snort. âJust because youâre allergic to clothes, MacTavishâŠâ
âAllergic?! Whaâs thaâ sâposed tâmean?!â
Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.
Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name âMacTavishâ coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.
Itâs your first mission since youâve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Somethingâs been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon canât read it. A new callsign.
(âWhat kind of a name is Carry-on?â Johnny teases, but he doesnât quite hide the unease in his eyes.
You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasnât there before.
âYouâre one to talk Mister Maybelline.â)
Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.
âYou ready for this?â Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simonâs imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)
âAlways,â you reply.
Simon doesnât hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the birdâs in the air.
âGarrick,â you shout, âcâmon, where did he get you?â
It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.
(You used to be more squeamish, werenât you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)
âWhat about you?â Gaz asks after a small eternity.
You yawn. âWhat about me?â
âYou got nicked too, didnât you?â
Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, youâre soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.
âDid I?â you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.
Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.
âItâs just a scratch,â you reply. âBarely even feel it, no worries.â
Then why is it still bleeding?
When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.
(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means âpromise.â)
In the after-action report, your callsign isnât âCarry-On.â Itâs Carrion.
Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.
On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.
Itâs an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.
Itâs not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simonâs head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he canât notice anything else.
You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you donât.
You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap thatâs haunted him for a year and a half.
Itâs insidiously subtle; he canât pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.
Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. Heâs hardly one to gauge whatâs normal for you anymore.
And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.
But he catches Johnnyâs brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that youâd never pick up the habit) and Simon knows heâs beginning to see it too.
âYou ever notice,â Gaz begins slowly. Youâre the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. âThat Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?â
Simon stills. Johnnyâs eyes fly to Price, whoâs grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.
âThe fileâs redacted,â he says. Heâs seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.
âThatâs normal for a mission like that,â Simon reasons carefully.
âI donât mean the mission,â Price says. âI mean Carrionâs file.â
âThis is a good movie,â you mumble from the armchair youâve stolen from Price. âWhatâs it called?â
Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.
Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign âNikto.â
Theyâre running out of time.
Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and itâs a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and heâs running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they donât have much of that left.
In the anteroom looking into interrogation, youâve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.
Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon⊠Simon is watching you.
Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.
But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.
âIâll handle it,â you say with an air of finality.
The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but itâs Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.
âDo it.â
You donât blink. âYes, maâam.â
You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.
âWhat the hell is going on, Kate?â Price demands.
Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.
âLetâs do this outside. It wonât take long to get that intel.â
The only thing sheâs able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then youâre already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.
Thereâs an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.
âGot what we need,â you announce cheerfully.
971 notes
·
View notes
Text
when you grab their chest â akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen
Authorâs Note: pardon the ridiculously long title. đ„Žđ âFem!Readerâ applies to Tengen only.
when you grab their chest â akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen
Akaza x Reader, Douma x Reader, Muzan x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader
Word Count: ~900
CW: dark humor, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content
Suggestion Fulfilled: I have a requestđ€ I recently read a certain ass slapping fic which I adored could you do a similar fic with the same characters +giyu and Douma with the reader coming up from behind the and squeezing their man tiddies
~faqs~
I 100% wouldâve used MAN TIDDIES in my title, but figured Tumblr would hide this post from tags if I did, so I went w/ âchestâ instead đ
Also, some of these are canon compliant â Muzan, Kyojuro, Giyuu
While others are set in modern au (alternate universe; modern setting) â Akaza, Douma, Tengen
AKAZA
Immediately tenses
#noice đđ after all, the man is ripped
The more Akaza tenses, the more you wanna squish
Except, itâs kinda hard to squish pure, flexed muscle ?? đ
âAkaza, my love, could you relax?â đ„ș
Heâs still confused, but my love automatically has him at your beck and call, so-
He relaxes
*gleeful squeal* đ *squish squish* đ
Aaand heâs tensed again
If you actually take the time to explain yourself, then heâll be absolutely embarrassed flattered
Lowkey decides to do an extra 100 push ups daily, just bc heâs so darn in love w/ you đ
DOUMA
Doumaâs been waiting all his life for you to grab his moobs
So like
Heâs one happy camper !!!!! đđ„ł
âall his lifeâ = since he met you
As for âmoobsâ? I had to, just once đ
Slowly flexes them so he can hear your amazed gasp đ
âAre you drooling?â he smirks
âFuck off,â you scowl
You try to withdraw your hands to wipe away your incriminating drool đđ€€
But he doesnât let you đ€Ș
He squeezes your wrists, grinning widely to himself, âDonât leave me.â đ
âBut Iâm done,â you grumble, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades (youâve already accepted your fate đ€ )
âIâm not,â he retorts, âNot even close.â đ€
Translation? Douma wants you to massage his pectorals
#pretty pls and ty
MUZAN
Once again, Iâm presuming youâre a demon, and Muzanâs immediate reaction is to slice off your hands đ
Thank gosh for regeneration! đźâđš
Youâve gotta quit surprising him đ€Ș
I mean
Yeah
He enjoys when you touch him đ
BUT, he has a reputation to uphold, and being startled by your random displays of physical attention doesnât exactly help đ
The implication that he lets his guard down w/ you (bc how else could you ever hope to genuinely startle him?) is making me feel things đ
âDo that again, and I wonât be so forgiving.â
The faint dip between his brows has you thinking otherwise đ€
âWhat if I ask first?â đ
Youâre treading on thin ice đŹ
His eyes flash, âPardon?â
Good thing heâs close to cracking too đ
âIf I ask to touch you?â
Iâll kill you âYou wouldnât.â
WeLp
He didnât say No đ€
(obvi consentâs a must, but in this specific context mutual flirtationâs strongly implied and also itâs literally Muzan)

âOh!â <â Kyojuro exclaims, cheerful as ever âșïž
âHello there,â he chuckles, smiling at the feeling of your body pressed against his back, âAre you checking something?â
âMhm,â you grin, âTheyâre still here!â đ
âMy pectorals?â his head tilts, âOf course they are?!â
Heâs ~a little oblivious, okay? đ
âHow about you hug me from the front?â he suggests gently, âThat way I get to hug you too!â
đđđ
Heâs so precious
How could you refuse?????
Spoiler alert: you canât
GIVE THE MAN HIS HUG đ„șâ€ïžâđ„
Spoiler alert: you give Kyojuro his hug, and it is very cozy đ„°
A tad sweaty + suffocating, but you wouldnât trade it for the world đ„ș

Shocked đ”âđ«
Giyuuâs inner monologue: ????? What? Is? This?
Giyuuâs outer dialogue: *still as stone*
âGiyuu?â you immediately remove your hands, scurrying to his front side, head tilted w/ concern, âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to make you uncomfort-â đ
âYou didnât,â he interrupts quietly, finally grasping his bearings, âIt wasâŠâ aaand now heâs blushing, â... nice.â đ„șâșïž
Your nose scrunches, relief relaxing your shoulders as you nod sheepishly, âIâm glad I didnât freak you out too much.â
âMhm,â he smiles reassuringly, âYou freaked me out,â gently guiding your palms back to his chest, âBut not too much,â winking shyly at you, âThe perfect amount, in fact.â
HELP !!!!! CAN YOU JUST CAN I FWIBEIUVLNSOUEJGBWO;GNS
Suave, sexy, knows-what-he-wants, isnât-afraid-to-tell-you, will-even-go-after-it-himself Giyuu has entered the chat
AnD I AM HERE FOR IT đđđđ

LOUD LAUGHTER
You can feel it through his tiddies đ
âEnvious, my dear?â đ
Okay
Presumptuous much? đ
But alllso đ
âIf you could shareâŠâ you pout, âGimme just a lil?â đ€
âYouâre welcome to work out with me,â he chuckles fondly, flexing for you, âThese could totally be yours!â
You sigh, âTengen, pectorals and breasts arenât the same thing.â
âI know that,â he shrugs, patting your knuckles reassuringly, âYour breasts are perfect, and Iâm happy to coach you and your pectorals if you so desire.â
You decide to test the waters đ
âWhat if my pectorals get bigger than yours?â đ
Tengen immediately drowns you đđ
âNot a chance.â đ
And then he tacks on, a tad nicer, âBut you could certainly get very big pectorals.â âșïž
âJust not bigger than yours,â you grin đ
He nods grimly, âMy ego would pop.â đ
âAnd that would be tragic.â âčïž
âIndeed,â he squeezes your hands (which remain splayed across his chest), still basking in your touch, âI appreciate your understanding.â đđ„°
(fyi, if your pectorals did get bigger than Tengenâs, then heâd: survive, be super proud of you, and beg to know your workout regimen)
#headcanons#modern au#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#akaza kny#akaza demon slayer#akaza x reader#douma kny#douma demon slayer#douma x reader#muzan kny#muzan demon slayer#muzan x reader#rengoku kyojuro#kyojuro x reader#tomioka giyuu#giyuu x reader#uzui tengen#tengen x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Day five of âobligatory sugar baby Konâ behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. ( everyone's having fun! so much sugary, fluffy, definitely-not-emotionally-fraught fun!! đ ) prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))
âThatâs notâI told you that you didnât have to do anything like that,â he says stiffly. âThat thatâs not aâcondition of any of this.â
âIâyeah, I know,â Kon says, frowning a little deeper and lookingâuncertain, now. Mostly just around the eyes, Tim canât help noticing. Mostly just around where opaque sunglasses wouldnât show any tells. âYou said. I justâI thoughtââ
âItâs justânot something you have to do,â Tim says, because Kon doesnât look like he knows how to find the end of whatever sentence heâs trying to say and he needs to say something, he knows. He justâhe thought theyâd had this conversation, and that Kon had laughed at him because heâd thought he was being stupid to feel like he had to say it, not . . .
Is that why Kon had laughed, or did he laugh because he thought Tim was lying to him about something he didnât think he needed lied to about, or . . . ?
âI know,â Kon says, biting his lip for a moment. âLikeâI wanna, like . . . do this. Like, I donât think youâre, you knowâtrying to be an asshole about it or anything.â
Tim hears âthisâ, and wonders if Kon means he wants to act like the way he was just acting, or if Kon just means he wants to date him, and thinks this has to be part of that. Itâs not . . . clear, maybe. Heâs not even sure how to ask Kon that, or if Kon would even understand the question if he did.
Heâs pretty damn sure that âtrying to be an assholeâ is a translation of something way worse, though.
âI donât know what that means,â he says, mostly to buy himself time to figure out what he should be saying. âYou want to doâwhat, exactly?â
âWhatever you want,â Kon says, and Tim feels nauseous.
âNo you donât,â he says, inane and useless.
âI do,â Kon says, shifting his posture into something too-deliberate and too-practiced and just not normal to see on another teenager, and Tim has a flashed moment of intense awareness of just how not-prepared for whateverâs about to come out of Konâs mouth that he actuallyââYou can justâtell me what to do, if Iâm doing it wrong. Or just do whatever you want. Iâll like it. Promise.â
There is literally no possible way that Kon could know that, part of Tim thinks, but the rest of him is thinking okay so who EXACTLY gave Kon the impression that he should be saying things like this to someone he barely knows, and how do I most effectively destroy their credit and job prospects and also every single thing theyâve ever loved?
And on top of that, who the hell taught Kon that saying things like that isnât, likeâway too much way too fast, if nothing else? Because again, he has some lives to maybe destroy a little. Likeâjust a bit.
Because itâs definitely, definitely something Kon got taught. Itâs justâitâs way too obvious, that all this is something he got taught.
âWhy do you think Iâd do that?â Tim asks, and Konâhesitates, a little, a flash of embarrassed self-consciousness crossing the backs of his eyes again.
âIâitâs justââ Kon attempts, half-fumbling whatever heâs trying to say, and then more or less babbles out an awkward, stuttered explanation of: âI mean technically this is already, like, our fourth date, counting the coffee place and all, and I justâlike, you'reâyou said you didn't wanna do all this stuff for me just âcuz I saved your life. I thought that meant . . . I thought you meant . . .â
He trails off, looking a little helpless and a lot more embarrassed, and Tim feels like an asshole and an idiot and ten steps closer to going supervillain and burning down the world. Or the reality. Or the multiverse.
Justâanywhere that made Kon have to be embarrassed about this.
âThat I only wanted to sleep with you?â he asks, trying not to let his voice get too tight. âI told you, thatâs notââ
âIthoughtyoumeantyoulikedme,â Kon blurts in a rush, jerking his head to the side to look away and also looking just shy of humiliated.
#timkon#tim drake#kon el#conner kent#dc robin#superboy#wip: obligatory sugar baby kon#implied past grooming#implied past abuse#unhealthy coping mechanisms
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
choosing to believe they put daniel at the end of the video to surprise max. like oh! itâs my former teammates! oh, itâs the sister team! âŠDANYUL??
the way he looks at daniel compared to the rest of the clips. call me delusional and maxiel-pilled but my god. the look in his eyes. he looks so soft, mesmerised that daniel is in the video.
also the implications that daniel and red bull are still in contact but thatâs for a dif post. đ
184 notes
·
View notes
Text

Ahh, and THERE it is⊠đđ
I have kept my opinions mostly to myself about The Acolyte, because I wasnât planning on watching it until seeing where it went with the Jedi. Almost everything in SW media has an element of Jedi criticism (sadly đ), so I knew that would be a given with this show, so I was holding off on any total judgment until the end.
One thing I KNEW I would despise and would make me not ever watch it is if they actually made canon that the Jedi brutally murdered an entire coven of witches and COVERED UP A MASSACRE (wtf on that part, because they would NOT cover it up, even if theyâd made a mistake). Apparently, it is not as bad as I feared, and they donât destroy the Jedi Orderâs characterization entirely.
But THIS line. đ„¶đ€ą
With THIS line that is apparently written in the newest episodeâthatâs it. Youâve lost me.
Because THIS line is just straight up genocide apologia.
Ohhh, of course they donât come outright and SAY, âLoool, those space wizards deserved what they got! đ€Șđ€Șââ, but the implication is pretty clear, all the same.
From the very beginning, I knew the showrunner of The Acolyte didnât like the Jedi or their culture, and said that her show âwouldnât be kind to them.â
And I couldâve lived with just the stupid vagueness of portraying the Jedi as a pompous bureaucracy (because itâs just an infectious opinion thatâs spread through most of the fandom), without FULLY condemning The Acolyte and declaring the show a terrible portrayal of the Jedi and their morality and culture, along with the CANON aspects of the Dark Side being a cancer in The Force that does nothing but make people miserable and cause imbalance in The Force.
But with THIS LINE that is SO clearly a wink and a nudge to the SW fans who believe the Jedi âdeserved what they gotâ⊠đđ€ąâŠ Iâm sorry, but theyâve officially lost me. đŹđ€·ââïž
There are things that Iâd probably like, if I ever can make myself stomach getting through the show: seeing how different cultures view The Force, seeing more of the Jedi Order/culture/Temple/how they teach their students, the characters Sol and Jecki and Yord and Oshaâeven seeing Jedi fighting style being so different and more defensive while trying to not use their lightsaber unless necessary, since they are in a time of peace.
But for the most part?
With THIS frankly DISGUSTING line, I can say with absolute certainty that The Acolyte is a show that I would never enjoy, and that is frankly not a welcome addition to the SW universe to me.
I appreciate the diversity inclusion, and I find myself relating to that meme that says something like: âWhen you hate a show, but then realize the other people that hate it are mostly bigots, đđâ becauseâunlike THOSE moronic dudebrosâmy criticism is for the story itself.
Itâs a genuine shame. Itâs such an interesting premise, getting to see the Jedi in the High Republic Era. But with this⊠I now know that The Acolyte is a show not worth myâor ANY OTHER pro Jedi fanâs time. đđđ€·ââïžđŹ
Only thing Iâll say in defense of it: Mr. Sith (?) IS hot. đ„â€ïžâđ„
And thatâs the only other praise I can give. đ€·ââïž
Loool, sorry for the rant. Iâm just so pissed off. đđ€·ââïžđ
#star wars#the acolyte#sw the acolyte#star wars the acolyte#the acolyte negativity#the acolyte critical#the acolyte salt#anti the acolyte#in defense of the jedi#pro jedi#pro jedi culture#pro jedi council#pro jedi order#jedi#in defense of the jedi order#star wars meta#sw meta#sw#sw fandom#in defense of the jedi council#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#star wars the clone wars#anakin skywalker critical#anti jedi bashing#nothing but love for the jedi#this is a pro jedi blog#pro jedi blog#jedi genocide#order 66
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
el caso rubiales: headlines from day 2, in which we listened to men, men, and more men making excuses and pointing fingers at each other đ
today we heard from menâs national team coach luis de la fuente, ex-director for integrity for rfef miguel garcĂa caba, ex-communications director for rfef pablo garcĂa cuervo, ex-subdirector for communications for rfef enrique yunta, and former psychologist for the womenâs team javier lĂłpez vallejo.
remember that in the immediate aftermath of the world cup, rfef issued multiple statements trying to downplay the kiss, including one supposedly "written by jenni" that she never wrote!
anyway, garcĂa caba testified that he was asked to prepare a report about the implications of rubialesâ sexual aggression and to interview people involved. the object of the report was a procedure for clarifying facts about the rubialesâ behaviours: the behaviour in the box and the kiss. players were omitted from the report because he didn't have time to ask them as he was told to finish in a day and a half because this reached global levels of awareness and being a problem.
garcĂa caba stated it was not his competence to determine if the kiss was an abuse of power. but he did use an expert and lip reader to analyse body language, including jenniâs during the world cup celebration, for a later report. đ”âđ«
he testified that vilda did not intervene in these reports. but he did call rubén rivera, who had a connection to jenni, to try and talk to her but jenni did not want to talk to him.
garcĂa cuervo went next and testified that he had no animosity towards jenni even though she signed a document, along with other players of the national team, asking for the dismissal of some rfef professionals, including him. he claims that some of the statements he wrote attributed to jenni had been given the âokâ by her.
he accused the players for not being accurate in their declarations and said that jenni contradicted herself and called her "a very impressionable and manipulable person." the judge lost patience with this witness and told him that he wasnât answering questions in the correct manner. (yay judge!)
next came yunta. his testimony conflicted with that of pokiâs yesterday. and he claimed that in the integrity meeting where various rfef officials met she changed the answers that she didn't like the sound of. and he said he expressed his frustration with how that meeting went down and felt very uncomfortable.
finally, we got to current men's coach luis de la fuente (who clapped for rubiales during his famous "i will not resign" speech). đ he was in australia and flew back with the team but claimed he slept the entire flight and did not hear anything. he was asked about a supposed meeting at rfef headquarters with poki (who testified yesterday) to discuss what happened and denied knowledge of that meeting too.
at one point, one of the attorneys was asking a question to which de la fuente made a flip comment saying he was not here to talk about these topics to which the judge reprimanded him by saying "one does not choose what one is going to talk about, one comes to answer what is asked."
the last witness of the day was the psychologist, lĂłpez vallejo, who testified that he was randomly assigned to the team without training for bullying or similar cases. he didn't witness the kiss, nor did any players come to him.
he also said: "my role was to show them my availability, to let them know that they could come to me. if there is a player who doesn't come, it's because they don't consider me to be the person who can help them at that moment." đ
he also testified that he was not aware of the magnitude of the kiss and did not reach out to jenni at the time. he only reached out to her later when someone from fifa wanted to get in touch with jenni and he helped facilitate that.
he also claims that luis de la fuente was indeed there at one of the meetings but he doesn't remember the details.
so in summary, what a shitshow and a group of low class men đ„Ž
but watch this fun video of the judge yelling at the witnesses!
source: marca on twitter
#jenni hermoso#caso rubiales#rubiales trial#rfef ruins all the good things#espwnt#sefutbolfem#futfem#woso#luis de la fuente
100 notes
·
View notes
Text
2k Special - Coach Knows Best: Tight Ends
So weâve come to the end of the 2k special. Iâd like to thank again @johnbrand and @mrrharper for letting me borrow one of their ideas, but especially the great @callmecallmecrazy who Iâve been following for almost 20 years (I was underage and shouldnât have been, but still). The Jocking has been and still is one of the most impressive things ever written in our niche; itâs not just about transformation, thereâs a plot, character development and a cohesive story, and itâs something Iâve always tried to follow while writing my own work. Here, I made a little homage to his seminal work and to Clifton Jocks, which Iâll say for the thousandth time is my favorite story of all time and an impressive demonstration of developing writing skills.
Lastly, thereâs a pun (or more) in the title of this story. đ
Just two days before the final game of the season, Steele sat in the stillness of his home, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. The transformation of Tyler had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, he had become the player Steele always knew he could be. On the other, the pressure of the BACS protocol loomed ominously over everything. As he contemplated for the millionth time how to navigate the challenges ahead, his phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the table in front of him shattering the quiet.
Startled, he reached for his phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Jenkins. The feeling of unease settled deeper in his gut as he answered. âWhatâs up?â he asked, his voice steady but laced with tension.
âSteele, weâve got a situation,â Jenkins said, his tone serious. âLee Dawson has gone missing from his dorm at college. He was supposed to hit up a study group and now no oneâs seen him.â
Steeleâs heart raced. âWhat do you mean missing? How long has it been since anyone last saw him?â
âJust a few hours, but itâs enough to raise alarms. From what I gathered from my guys on the team, heâd been complaining about his brotherâs behavior for days, saying Tyler was acting weird. At my request, they pressed Lee for any major signs that a glitch was popping up in the BACS protocol, but whenever pressed, he backed down. There was nothing to suggest any major failure or need for intervention so far.
âI told you Lee is smart and you know why BACS has fallen out of favor, and yet you insisted. What the hell do you expect me to do now to clean up your mess?â
âWhat I want is for you to keep an eye out. It seems like Lee is gonna go searching for his brother or even come to you. In that case, you need to find out whatâs going on. This could have serious implications,â Jenkins urged, his voice quickening.
âImplications? What the hell are you talking about?â Steele shot back, a sense of dread creeping into his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be linked to the boardâs experiments or Tylerâs recent transformation if shit hit the fan.
âLetâs be real, Steele. If the government finds out what we did with BACS, we could all be in deep trouble. You need to act fast. In the worst-case scenario, youâre authorized to use BACS on the older Dawson.â Jenkins warned, urgency unmistakable in his voice.
âThat wonât be necessary. Iâm on it, but I warned you, Jenkins, you idiot!â Steele replied, his mind racing. He couldnât let this situation spiral out of control. As he hung up the phone, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He had to find and protect Lee, and somehow make him understand the whole program before the kid, who was Steeleâs greatest pride, ended up consumed by it like his brother had.

Steele woke up before dawn, the clock reading 4 AM. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, battling the heavy feeling that seemed to have settled in his mind. The morning darkness enveloped the room as his thoughts churned about Lee and Tyler. It was a constant struggle between the determination to keep his legacy as a coach intact and the guilt that consumed him.
He got up and started his morning routine. The first task was to run. He laced up his running shoes, threw on a simple T-shirt, and headed out, feeling the cold morning air against his face. Each step took him further away from his worries, and he tried to keep a steady pace. Running had always been his way to release built-up tension, but today felt harder. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tylerâs situation and what he could have done differently.
After 30 minutes of running, Steele finished his routine with calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; all done in silence, but his mind was far from what he was doing. He felt like a robot, following a routine without really being present. The joy he used to feel while working out was missing, replaced by a sense of emptiness.
With sweat dripping down his face, he returned home and made breakfast. He brewed a strong cup of black coffee, letting the dark liquid fill the mug. Coffee, once a comforting ritual, now tasted bland, as if bitterness had seeped into his life. He served himself an absurd amount of food: eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. But even while eating, he couldnât savor the meal. Each bite felt like an obligation, a meaningless ritual.
After breakfast, he shaved, staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep circles under his eyes. âWhat the hell happened to me?â he thought, doubt creeping into his mind. He had been a passionate coach, someone who inspired his players to become the best versions of themselves. Now, he found himself trapped in a cycle of manipulation and politics that was corroding his soul.
After getting ready, Steele finally left for school, his car cutting through the quiet morning. But upon arriving at the school parking lot, he hesitated. He stopped the car and sat there, watching the students arrive, the laughter and chatter floating in the air. He felt like a spectator in his own world.
âHow did I end up here?â he murmured to himself. He remembered when everything seemed so simple, when his love for football was pure and genuine. He had a dream: to turn young athletes into champions, to guide them through hardships, and help them shine. But over time, he became obsessed with winning, accepting the machinations of the board, believing it was all worth it. He convinced himself he was offering insignificant kids the chance to experience the same glories he had. But now, after what happened with Tyler, those certainties were crumbling. The kid had been the kind of athlete who, with the right encouragement and training, could have been for the Tight Ends what Brock Purdy was for quarterbacks: a last pick with seemingly no shine but whose effort and skill landed him a spot on one of the big league teams. Now? Sure, the kid was great, almost perfect. No doubt heâd shine, but itâd be an artificial shine, risking being marked more by a influencer life than what he did on the field, more like a Garoppolo than a Purdy. And then there was Lee, the incredible Lee, Steeleâs greatest victory, shaped just right, now at risk of going through the same shit as his brother. Thinking about that made Steeleâs gut churn, and a new determination surged within him. He could lose everything, but he was going to make sure Lee wouldnât get caught up in this, even if it meant making some subtle tweaks, a little memory alteration⊠maybe something to boost his stats before the Combine⊠Then, without realizing the hypocrisy and contradiction in his own way of thinking, the coach let out a long sigh and headed off to start the dayâs work.
âŠ..
The locker room was in a state of controlled chaos. The boys on the team were undressing and getting ready to put on their practice uniforms. The distinct smell of deodorant mixed with male sweat hung in the air, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing.
âLook whoâs here! The king of farts!â Trey shouted, letting out a loud fart. The room erupted in laughter, and the boys started mimicking fart sounds.
âFor Godâs sake, dude! You need a deodorant for your ass!â Connor teased, making everyone laugh even harder.
Rafael, always ready to stand out, raised his hands as if he was about to make a speech. âAttention, attention! The champion of burps is here!â He then let out a burp so loud it echoed through the locker room, causing another wave of laughter.
âYou and your special talents, Rafe. One day youâre gonna win an award for that!â Miguel joked, while getting dressed. âMost retarded award!â
The boys continued to talk nonsense, sharing stories about weekend parties, the girls they had hooked up with, and the drunken escapades they had. The vibe was carefree, a celebration of the brotherhood that existed among them, but also tinged with machismo and arrogance.
âDude, did you see the new cheerleader? The transfer girl, blonde with blue eyes?â Miguel commented, winking at the others. âShe was totally checking me out during practice. Bet sheâs in love with me!â
âProbably out of pity for your malnourished state!â Adam replied, laughing. âBut itâs true, sheâs hot. Iâd hit that too.â
âMalnourished? Iâm ripped, you fatass!â
âThatâs just jealousy of my muscles, scrawny boy?â
âJealousy is what you have of my abs, fatty!â
As the chatter continued, Tyler, sitting a bit further away, looked at Brock with a frustrated expression while tying his cleats. âMan, my brotherâs been an ass lately. Leeâs always been a bit too uptight, but lately, heâs just straight-up unbearable,â Tyler said, trying to keep his tone light, but irritation was evident.
âLike, he keeps nagging me about my grades, and I canât deal with it anymore. I stopped replying to his texts. Iâve told him Cs get degrees,â he vented, his voice dropping lower, almost lost in the locker room noise.

âWell, the problem is you hardly ever get Cs, do you?â
âAs if youâre any better, you dumbass. You know Coach is gonna sort this out and weâre all gonna get into college with football scholarships. But for Lee, thatâs not enough; itâs like he wanted another brother instead of me.â
Brock looked at Tyler, sensing his frustration. âDude, I get it. Itâs tough when you have a brother who seems to be trying to control you. But at the same time, he just wants whatâs best for you, right? Maybe heâs just worrying too much.â
âMaybe⊠but that doesnât change the fact that heâs being a total pain. He doesnât know how to have fun. Itâs like he thinks life is only about training and studying,â Tyler replied, shaking his head, visibly irritated.
âMan, you need to put him in his place then. One day, heâs gonna realize life isnât just about work. You gotta enjoy the journey too, just like we do here on the team!â Brock said, trying to encourage Tyler to feel better about the situation.
âWhatever, maybe I should try talking to him again, but just thinking about it makes me tired,â Tyler mumbled, crossing his arms.
What the boys didnât realize was that Coach Steele had entered the locker room just as the conversation was heating up.
âIs that what I heard, Tyler?â Steele asked, his gaze fixed on the young man. âYouâve been ignoring your brother?â

Tyler hesitated before answering. âUh⊠Iâm just tired of hearing the same old shit, coach. He just wants me to fit into the image he has of me. I just wanted some space,â he said, trying to justify his behavior.
Steele shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. âLook, Tyler, you might not like what Lee has to say, but heâs your brother. What he wants is what any brother wants: the best for you. Ignoring his texts isnât the solution. You might not realize it, but he cares about you,â Steele said, his voice firm.
âYeah, I know. I just⊠I just need some space, thatâs all,â Tyler muttered, a bit frustrated.
âI get that you need space, but that doesnât mean you should push him away. Promise me one thing, if he tries to reach out again, donât ignore him, but more importantly, I want you to tell me right away,â Steele said, with a serious look. âNow, letâs go, finish getting ready. Itâs almost time for practice.â
The boys nodded, and the conversation quickly dissipated as they hurried to get ready. When everyone was ready, they headed out to the field. The sun was shining brightly, and the energy of the team was palpable. Steele watched as the players lined up, each carrying a confidence that was contagious. He felt a little lighter, even knowing the precarious situation he was in.
âTodayâs the last practice before the finals,â Steele began, capturing everyoneâs attention. âThat means we need to give it everything weâve got. Remember, the opposing team is gonna come onto the field wanting to take us down. But theyâre gonna face the Titans, and weâre gonna show them what that means!â
The players shouted in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The practice began and Steele moved around the field, watching every move, every play. The boys were in sync, their skills at their peak and their energies channeled toward a common goal. Steele watched it all with a satisfied smile. The hard work and dedication were paying off. He remembered his own experiences and what it meant to form a cohesive team. âGreat job, boys!â he shouted, as the players regrouped in the locker room after practice. âYouâre ready to face the Knights! What we saw today was magnificent. Each of you gave your best. Remember, tomorrow is the big day. You have a chance to show everyone what it means to be a Titan.â
The players shouted in response, the spirit of unity filling the air. âOne last thing: rest up! I donât want to hear that anyone partied or drank alcohol before the finals. If you do, Iâll skin you alive!â
Laughter and shouts spread through the locker room, but Steeleâs seriousness conveyed the message that he truly cared. The boys knew he was there to guide them and protect what they had built together.
With practice wrapped up, the players dispersed, ready to rest up and prepare for the big game.
âŠ
Night fell, and as the city prepared for the game the next day, Tyler lay in bed, heart racing and mind full of expectations. He knew he had a role to play, and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. In the darkness of his room he was lost in thought, recalling the dayâs practices and what awaited him in the big game.

At that moment, Lee walked into the room unannounced, his expression serious. âTyler, we need to talk,â he said, looking intently at his brother.
Tyler frowned. âLee? WTF? What are you doing here? Whatâs wrong?â
âYou. Somethingâs not right with you,â Lee replied, worry evident in his voice. âI canât pinpoint what it is, but I feel like somethingâs changed.â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â Tyler asked, confused and a little irritated. âIâm great! Iâm about to crush it in the game tomorrow!â
Lee shook his head, frustration growing. âItâs not that, Tyler! Itâs like youâre⊠different. Like youâre not really you. I⊠Iâm worried.â
âWhat the hell, Lee? Who else could I be? And worried? You donât know anything about me! Iâm never good enough for you, right? Youâve always been the favorite, the family talent!â Tyler shouted, anger boiling over. âBut Iâm gonna prove to everyone that Iâm better than you, that Iâm the best player!â
Lee looked at him, pain in his eyes. âTyler, Iâve never cared about that. For me, thereâs never been a competition between us. I just wanted you to be happy in your own way. You donât have to try to be what I am or what you think everyone expects from you. What matters is that youâre yourself.â
âYou donât get it! I canât just be me, with a Mr. Perfect brother I always have to be the better! And now that Iâm finally getting attention, I canât let it slip away!â Tyler shot back, his voice filled with frustration.
âI⊠I think I understand more than you realize,â Lee said, sadness weighing on his words.
âYouâre not making sense, Lee! I just want to be recognized, and that involves winning! For me, thatâs everything!â Tyler replied, anger replacing insecurity.
âI really thought I could trust him⊠I donât know what I can do to help you, but Iâll try. Just know that I love you, little bro. I hope that next time we see each other, we can recognize each other for who we really are.â

Tyler sat there, alone, frustration and confusion flooding his mind. Until a memory popped into his head. He grabbed his phone and called Coach Steele. âCoach, I⊠I need to talk to you,â he said as soon as the call connected.
âSure, Tyler. Whatâs up?â Steele replied, his voice calm and attentive.
âItâs about Lee. He was just here⊠and he doesnât seem right; he said a bunch of nonsensical things⊠he thinks somethingâs wrong with me, and I donât know how to deal with it. I act all tough, like Iâm the best Dawson, but the truth is, Lee is my biggest inspiration, and seeing him like this⊠please help him!â Tyler poured out, tension evident in his voice.

âTyler, I need you to try to remember what else your brother said. Did he say where he was going?â Steele asked, his voice now more concerned.
âI donât know, coach. No, he didnât say. He just mentioned he thought he could trust someone and that⊠that heâd try to help me⊠and that he hoped next time we met, we could⊠recognize each other. I have no idea what he meant by that.â
âI do. Try to calm down and get some sleep; tomorrow is the big day, and I promise everything will be alright. Better yet, Lee will be there to watch you shine, trust me!â
âAlways, Coach!â
âŠ
Steele hung up the phone, poured a generous shot of bourbon into two glasses, and waited for Lee. It seemed the time had come for him to answer for his choices in front of one of the few people he cared about in this world.
âŠ.
Lee walked toward Steeleâs mansion, his heart racing and his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The worry for Tyler consumed him, and his brotherâs words echoed in his head. âWhatâs wrong with him? Or is it me? Ty is right; Iâm not making any sense! Still, I know⊠thatâs not who he should be!â Lee thought, feeling frustrated for not being able to understand what was happening, but he knew there was someone who understood and worse, could be responsible for it all. As he walked, fear and frustration overwhelmed him. For it wasnât the first time he felt that way; if he had done something sooner⊠maybe, just maybe, he wouldnât have to go through this with his own brother.
As Lee walked through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but remember those times he felt that same awkwardness when he was on the team. Not in the same creepy way as now, but it was there, this uneasy feeling, as his teammates came and went. He figured it was 'cause he never really clicked with the others off the field; his life was all about discipline, totally grinding to improve. His body was a temple, and football was his religion. Of course, there was the Pastor: Steele. They had a tight bond, with the coach filling the gap left by his dad when he bailed on the family. Maybe thatâs why Lee ignored what his gut was telling him every time a new player joined the team. Itâs also why he asked Steele to treat Tyler the same way he treated him. Now, Lee felt like a total fool for thinking Steele would keep that promise. The coach was the one who drilled into him the idea of winning at all costs... he just chose to overlook that to Steele âat all costsâ also included everyone else. And now, his brother was paying the price for that mistake.
Standing in front of the big mansion gate, Lee felt a chill in his stomach. Without doing anything, it opened, and he walked up to the porch where the imposing figure of Steele awaited him.
âLee, I was expecting you,â Steele said, his expression serious. âSit down and grab a glass.â The man settled into a magnificent leather armchair and pointed to a glass of bourbon.
âYou know I donât drink. My diet is strict to not affect my performance. Besides, I need to know, what did you do to my brother?â
âTo explain what happened to Tyler, I need to tell you a very long story. And I know you donât drink, kid, but trust me, with what we need to talk about, youâre gonna need it.â
Lee complied, but the tension in the air was palpable.
âCoach, I donât need a story; I need to know what happened to my brother⊠more than that⊠I need to know who my brother really is⊠or I think Iâm gonna lose my mind⊠I need you to reverse what you did.â
âItâs not that simple, kid. What youâre asking isnât impossible, but highly unlikely. So I need you to understand. And to understand, I need to tell you everything from the beginning, so please take a sip and listen.â
Still reluctant, Lee conceded and positioned himself to hear his former coach, feeling the drink burn his throat and warm his stomach.

âGood, good. The story Iâm about to tell you starts way before Tyler, you and even me. Back in the mid-2000s, a decline in the number of young men dedicating themselves to contact sports, notably football, began to be noticed. You might question this info due to what came shortly after, but trust me, itâs real. Continuing, due to this decline, a group formed that is now known as The Board, whose goal was to find ways to prevent this decline from becoming irreversible. And thus, the so-called Enhancement Protocols emerged. Due to the shady nature of such protocols, it was established that the test fields would be some schools across the country and always with individuals over 18. Colleges would be a highly unfeasible field, and the NFL, with all its scrutiny, would be unthinkable. What happened next was⊠revolutionary but also opened the doors to a true hell.â Steele said, pausing to take a long sip of his own drink before continuing.
âIn one location where I have no access, one of the coaches responsible found gold. A way to alter the very fabric of reality and turn insignificant kids into perfect players. The techniques used were multiple as long as there was a catalyst; clothing, food, even the presence of another altered player was enough to modify an unsuspecting target. It was groundbreaking. But there were two problems: it messed with things that shouldnât be messed with. A bunch of mumbo jumbo occult stuff whose details are better left unsaid. The other problem is that he went rogue. The modified players of his spread like a wildfire, hitting colleges and schools all over the country to the point that the fabric of reality became so thin it allowed certain things that shouldâve stayed out to come in. At that time, I was already playing for the Eagles, and Iâd like to believe the NFL wasnât affected, but I canât know, the manâs insanity was that great. The Board canât say for sure, nor can the government, because the one who finally ended that coachâs megalomania was an apparently ordinary individual, but whom I believe is still imbued with more power than any man should have. But thanks to him, reality got back to how it shouldâve been, that is, more or lessâŠâ Steele let out a long sigh before continuing.
âThe kid had no way of knowing about the boardâs existence, and it reestablished itself, and from what was left of that mad coachâs work, developed the current protocols.â Steele continued with a serious air.
âI discovered the protocols in my first year as a coach. At that time, the board was still being inconspicuous, the group that took down the coach I mentioned was still active. Initially, I was against using such methods. But the decline of the 2000s was nothing compared to the mid-decade past. Suddenly, kids became these delicate little flowers that canât handle anything, snowflakes is the term youâll hear the most. A lot of people associate this with sexuality. Frankly, I donât give a damn who you fuck with. But watching a bunch of crybabies dominate the school hallways while my team, a place where real men were being formed, dwindled to the point of risking disappearing? I couldnât accept that. So I let the board into my life and my Titans. Initially only to fill some gaps, cover some deficiencies. I justified it to myself. But over time I used the protocols more and more to the point of having no justifications. Not that I cared anymore, because the Titans had become the team I always thought it should beâŠ
âYou⊠I⊠did you do something to me?â Lee asked, his voice trembling.
âNo, you, Lee, you were a gift to me, a perfect player with no need for intervention, totally focused and dedicated, even not fitting into certain specifications of the board. Specifications I never cared about, by the way. But even the board never dared to ask me to intervene with you given your impressive stats. And I donât know if I wouldâve done anything, even if they asked. The truth is, you reminded me of myself, and I wouldâve never had the guts to do anything to you. But then came Tyler. Tyler was a younger version of you, unfortunately without the same impressive talent. Not that the kid lacked talent, but it just wasnât enough. And the board intervened in the worst way possible. Right before you left for college, taking advantage of the calm environment after so many years acting in the shadows, the they became bold. They developed a method that traded the elegance and subtlety of the previous ones for a much faster and seemingly just as effective one. They called it the BACS Protocol, a stupid acronym that doesnât matter right now. Whatâs important is that with this protocol, all it takes is a signal sent by a simple smartphone to a previously exposed individual to a catalyst that can even be dispersed in the air around him, and out of nowhere you have a perfect player ready under all the specifications of the council. To avoid a bunch of clones walking around, the signal uses the playerâs own perceptions of what each of the acronymâs specifications represents and uses the individualâs genetic base to update him. For someone like you or Tyler, this can be⊠disturbing, a change so fast and radical in the fabric of reality without a safer catalyst, an anchor. See, with a stable enough catalyst even the transformed's family members can be modified to better fit their new narrative. BACS has no such capability, which in retrospect may have been a blessing, just thinking about what could have happened to you... sorry, I lost focus. The truth is that unlike safer methods this absence leads to some glitches. Like the ones youâve been feeling.â
âYou mean to say that TylerâŠ?â
âYeah⊠the protocol was shut down due to failures, but for some obtuse reason, the board decided to pick it back up and Tyler was chosen as an example.â
âAnd you didnât do a damn thing???â Lee asked, outraged. âYou just let my brother be taken like a pig to slaughter? And turned him into this?â
âThatâs still your brother, just like many of your teammates with whom you sweat and bled for victory. Theyâre still people, Lee, with dreams and desires. You might even disagree with their way of life, but donât treat them like things.â
âI canât believe the size of your hypocrisy!â
âYeah, Iâm a hypocrite. But Iâve always treated my players the same, the naturals and the modified ones; to me, thereâs no difference between them. Except for you, like BACS has its glitches, you were mine.â
âThen help me, help revert what happened to Tyler!â
âItâs harder than you can imagine, Lee. Thereâs someone out there with that capability, but you donât want to get in his way!â
âWhy not?â
âBecause he would destroy everything Iâve built, everything you know too, because thatâs his mission. And I canât allow that.â
âAnd whatâs stopping me from going after this guy on my own?â
âThe fact that you ingested a high dose of the catalyst compound and are in the presence of a very strong physical catalyst right next to you, namely me. I swear Iâd rather not do this to you, but after letting what happened to Tyler happen, itâs better this way. I promise the only thing that will change for you is accepting reality and Tyler as they are now!â
Upon hearing that, Lee tried to move, but it felt like he was glued to the chair, as if trapped in an invisible trap. While Coach Steele, the man he considered a substitute father, betrayed him a second time.
Seated, paralyzed in that armchair, Lee felt a strange pressure in his body, followed by a wave of heat, and then the first transformation took over his arms, which began to swell, the muscles expanding under the skin. He looked down, perplexed, as his biceps became so bulky with muscles and fat they seemed ready to burst through the shirt he wore. Seeing that, Steeleâs eyes widened, and he shouted: âThat wasnât supposed to happen!â But as he tried to get up and somehow intervene, he found himself glued to his own seat. With nothing left to do, the coach watched in growing panic as what came next unfolded.
As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, Lee's legs began to change too. His already huge thighs swelled even more, becoming the size of tree trunks, while a layer of fat started to accumulate, softening the sharp lines he had worked so hard to achieve. Lee felt a mix of horror and a strange pleasure as that transformation unfolded, as if his body were rebelling against his will.
âLee, you need to resist!â Coach Steele shouted, but his voice sounded distant and powerless, for he knew there was nothing that could be done.
The pressure in his abdomen intensified, and Lee could feel his belly protruding. The famous eight-pack he valued so much was disappearing, replaced by a still firm belly, but now with a more robust appearance, a true muscle gut. He felt as if he were in a nightmare, struggling against the waves of transformation that dominated him. As he attempted to speak, a loud burp escaped involuntarily⊠buuuuuuurpâŠ
âThis canât be happening!â, Steele repeated, thrashing in his chair. As the change reached Leeâs face, his jaw became more square momentarily only to be hidden by a layer of fat, and then by a thick, scruffy beard. The straight, well-kept hair he always sported now fell in messy locks, giving him a wild look. Lee tried to protest once more, but another burp escaped, and he felt even more frustrated. âWhy is this happening?!â confusion dominating his thoughts.
The changes reached his feet, once slender, now starting to expand, going from a respectable size 11 to a gigantic size 15, ripping the sneakers he wore, each thick toe covered with a layer of dark hair. His firm, muscular backside turned into a big cushion. Coach Steele, watching in a mix of horror and despair, shook his head. âNo, Lee! Please, no! What have I done?!â he shouted, his voice trembling. The horror of the situation enveloped him, and he felt powerless, unable to help.
As the transformation peaked, Lee found himself in a more muscular and robust body, more like an offensive guard than a tight end. Not that he could think of that, for at that moment, his mind was invaded by conflicting information. The strict diet with complex carbs and high-quality proteins and zero alcohol was replaced by a ogre diet and occasional binge drinking, nothing that would harm the team, but off-season is off-season for a reason. The obsession with being the best remained, but the way of looking at it shifted from almost military-level self-demand to the belief that he would be the best because he always had been; it was inherent to him. The serious and even somber demeanor was replaced by a carefree joy and an unshakeable teenage humor. As a smile spread across his face, it was all over. There was nothing else Steele could do, even if he managed to move, which was still impossible for him.
Leeâs worried and quick thoughts were replaced by an almost absolute relaxation; he was someone who knew his place and what he had to do. Anyone looking from the outside would have the impression of a big teddy bear, but once against him, theyâd see he was, in fact, a raging grizzly bear when on the field.
With a carefree attitude, he looked at himself. His clothes were bursting at the seams, the fabric struggling to keep up with the growth of his new body. His shirt was stretched so tight it looked like it could rip at any moment, while his shorts looked more like strips than actual clothing. What the hell had happened? But before he could even think of worrying, his gut acted up, and Lee let out a loud and uncontrollable fart, while the room echoed with the sound he burst into laughter, any trace of horror turning into a moment of pure joy.
As Lee reveled in his new form, patting his powerful gut with a goofy grin on his face, Coach Steele just watched, horrified and powerless. âWhat have I done...,â he murmured, his mind whirling around the implications of his pupilâs transformation.
Without either man noticing, Jenkins entered the room just as Leeâs transformation completed. He observed the now-imposing young man with his muscular and robust body. A satisfied smile spread across his face. âWhat did you do?â Jenkins said, with a tone of disdain, startling Steele, who hadnât seen the sly man but realized at that moment who was truly behind what had happened. âJust what you shouldâve done a long time ago. But the specifications werenât yours.â
Jenkins then turned to Lee, who now looked like a true giant. âHey, Bull Dawg, howâs it going?â he asked, the provocation evident in his voice.
Lee, exuding the chill vibe that now surrounded him, smiled back. âIâm feeling kinda funny,â he replied, as he stood up and admired himself in one of the mirrors in the room.

âMust be all the whiskey youâve been drinking,â Jenkins remarked, laughing. âYouâve always been the type to not miss a chance to have fun.â
Lee shot a quick glance at Jenkins, winking playfully. âYou know me too well,â he replied, flexing his huge arms and biceps, completely ruining the shirt he wore and exposing his powerful pecs and exuberant muscle gut covered in wild hair.
"Alright, alright. Now, if youâll excuse me," Jenkins said, turning to Lee, "Steele and I need to hash out some big kid stuff."
"Whatever," Lee shot back, all nonchalant. "But Iâm taking the whiskey with me." He turned, the power of his new, impressive body filling the space around him as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon but no glass.
Jenkins and Steele watched as Lee strutted out of the room, one with a smug grin and the other with a dead-serious look. The giantâs heavy footsteps echoed on the floor, his muscular back and well-defined glutes becoming a spectacle in their own right, while the shorts several sizes too small threatened to rip with every step those powerful bare feet took.
âA true masterpiece.â Jenkins said, settling into the chair where Lee had been sitting moments before, the leather still warm from his presence. He crossed his legs, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he looked at Coach Steele, who still seemed to be digesting what had just happened.
âSo, Steele,â Jenkins began, his voice calm and controlled, âwhat do you think of all this?â
Steele, unable to move, finally found his voice. âWhat did you do, Jenkins? Why make such a drastic decision with a talented athlete like Lee?â
âOh, Steele,â Jenkins replied, shaking his head almost condescendingly. âYou yourself pointed out that BACS has its glitches. And Dawson became a problem. We needed a solution; he was a valuable asset, but the market is changing, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. What you need to understand is that even though thereâs always room for the disciplined athlete like Tom Brady, thatâs so 2000s⊠no, no, with Jason Kelceâs retirement, a niche opened up, that of the wild giant who turns out to be a cute clown. Men identify with him thinking illusionarily that a body like his is more easily attainable than a âmore fit oneâ, and women see the figure of a future husband, someone not so worried about having a sixpack. Which reminds me that I need to find a good girlfriend for the kid and maybe twin boys in a year or two⊠So, a big teddy bear with a younger, more rebellious bro? All that's left is to find a pop diva to make that winning combo happen again, right? I wonder if I still have OlĂvia Rodrigo manager's phone number. Iâll have to figure that out too⊠So the boring, regimented and suspicious Lee needed to go so that the fun, lovable yet aggressive when necessary Bull Dawg could emerge. Ahh the amount of profits these brothers will bring!
"I believed the board wanted the best athletes possible," Steele said, his voice thick with anger.
"The board wants profits. And believe me, someone like the old Lee doesn't do a tenth of what Bull Dawg promises. The public wants their idols to be close to them. They want to feel like they're part of their lives. They want them to be fun. Trust me, Lee Bull Dawg Dawson is someone who knows how to have fun, especially with the products and facilities of our sponsors."
"You and I have very different opinions of what a football fan wants."
"And so we come to the real reason I'm here today. Dawson was just an appetizer, the main course is you, you and your damn insubordination."
Steele took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as Jenkinsâ words echoed in his mind. âIâve always been loyal to the boardâs guidelines, Jenkins. You know that. Iâve always put the rules first.â His voice trembled slightly, but he fought to maintain a firm tone.
Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. âLoyalty? Is this what you call loyalty? The admiration you feel for Lee Dawson blinded you, Steele. You didnât see that the younger Dawson needed enhancement. Your focus was so fixated on your precious Lee that you ignored what was right in front of you.â
Steele felt the blood rush to his head, indignation forming like a storm inside him. âI didnât hide anything from the board! I always did what was best for the athletes, not just for one of them. You canât justâŠâ
âCanât just what?â Jenkins interrupted, an ironic smile forming on his lips. âHide the truth? Like you did? Since the incident years ago, you know the board canât allow any coaches to go rogue. And you, my friend, have crossed the line. Your romanticized vision of what Lee and Tyler could be became a trap, and now youâre gonna pay the price.â
Steele tried to stand, but found himself glued to the chair, as if an invisible force kept him there. Panic began to spread through his body, and he turned to Jenkins, his expression turning to desperation. âJenkins, please, I beg you!â
âOh, but I have no choice, Steele,â Jenkins replied, his voice now wrapped in a chilling tone. âDid you really think we wouldnât have a way to deal with types like you? Youâre gonna go through the COACH protocol. Complete Overdrive and Assimilation to the Command Hierarchy. Itâs what the council decided. On the field, your attitude is impeccable and should continue that way. But you have no idea how happy I am to be free of your stiffness and bitterness, of your unbearable righteousness.â Jenkins said with a mocking smile that showed all his satisfaction before continuing to speak.
âBut cheer up, after the step taken with Lee today, the board decided itâs finally time to expand to college, and you, my future and less uptight best friend, are gonna be the pioneer of this. A spot coaching your old college team awaits your new media approved showman self. A self that will pave your way back to the NFL when the board deems it necessary.â

With one last effort, Steele tried to break free, but the pressure was unbearable. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but everything seemed to fade around him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jenkinsâ smug grin, a smile that symbolized both triumph and betrayal, as darkness enveloped him.
âŠ.
The celebration at Coach Steele's house after the championship was epic. The Titans, once again, showed their power on the field, snagging the title with an impressive victory. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, and the players were ready to party. Steeleâs house was packed with food, drinks, and laughter, with the guys from the team having a blast while reminiscing about the best moments of the season.
Brock, Adam, Connor, and the rest were all there, laughing and making toasts. Lee, who had been given a break from classes until after the Christmas holidays thanks to Mr. Jenkins, was in his element. He moved through the party like a king, surrounded by friends and admirers. Upon finding his little brother, he couldn't help but smile.
"You really gave it your all this season, T-Dawg!" he said, raising his cup. "Iâm so proud of you!"
"Thanks, big bro! And this is just the beginning! Iâm ready to head to college and show everyone what I can do!" Tyler replied, his smile shining even brighter.
Lee looked at Tyler, a satisfied grin on his lips. "You know, Iâm really glad I wonât have to face you on the field. With you playing like a beast, Iâd be in trouble!" He laughed.

Tyler smiled back but couldn't help thinking about what that meant. "Oh, but who knows, maybe one day weâll meet in the NFL? You could still be my rival on the field or worse, we might end up competing for the same position on a team."
Lee gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder, his smile turning into a rare serious look. "Listen, donât worry about that. The truth is, when I come back from break, Iâll probably be moved to another position, maybe as a guard or center. Iâve outgrown what a Tight End should be.â He said with a grin while giving a little pat on his muscular gut. âSo, if all goes well, weâll never have to compete for the same spot, better we can be an incredible duo on the same team."
Tyler looked surprised by the revelation. "Seriously? Thatâs amazing! But⊠how are we gonna figure out whoâs the better player?"
Lee chuckled, shaking his head again. "Fuck whoâs better, Tyler! What I really want is to play football and go pro. If itâs alongside you, even better. But enough talk, we should be having fun."
As the party progressed, the energy was through the roof. The guys started competing in an impromptu arm wrestling championship in one corner, while flip cup and beer pong dominated other spots. The music was blasting, and the drinks flowed freely. Lee, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, his confidence soaring. His teenage behavior, despite his age, was not out of place among the Titans boys who saw him as an example to follow. He began bragging about his achievements, cracking jokes and teasing the others.
"Hey, who wants to see Bull Dawg do a backflip? Bet I can nail it!" Lee shouted, seizing a moment when Steele were momentarily absent, drawing everyoneâs attention in the backyard.
"Go for it, bro!" Tyler shouted, as the crowd's excitement peaked.
As everyone gathered around the pool, Lee climbed onto a small platform, determination etched on his face. He was visibly drunk, but that didnât stop him from wanting to impress his brother and friends. Tyler and the others watched, a mix of anxiety and fun on their faces, as intoxicated as the older man.
"Go, Lee! Show what you got!" Connor yelled, cheering on his friend.
Lee got ready, taking a deep breath before launching himself into the air. The backflip was perfect, and the impact of his massive body hitting the water was violent, soaking everyone around and sending the team boys into a frenzy.
âBull Dawg!!! Bull Dawg!!â they all shouted in unison. As he came out of the pool laughing excitedly. Meanwhile, Tyler hugged his brother, saying, âNow I gotta do something bigger!â
âChill, T-Dawg, youâve already done enough! You're way cooler than I am! But you are a bit too dry for my taste!â Lee replied, shoving his little brother into the pool and falling in with him amidst laughter.
At that moment, Coach Steele approached with his usual off the field chill smile. He watched the scene, pleased to see that everyone there, just like himself, perfectly fit the boardâs criteria, but he also felt the need to maintain at least a certain level of discipline. With a firm movement, he stepped closer to the group, calling everyoneâs attention.
âHey, boys! Time to stop the show!â Steele said, his voice booming over the party noise. The music faded into a whisper as heads turned to look at the coach. Lee and Tyler, still wet and smiling, climbed out of the pool, with Dawson boys striking a triumphant pose of gratitude.
âCome on, coach! Weâre just celebrating!â Tyler said, laughing.
âCelebrating is great, but I need you all to remember what it means to be a Titan!â Steele began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. âThis season wasnât just about winning on the field. It was about teamwork, overcoming challenges, and what it means to be part of a family. Each of you proved that together, weâre stronger. And thatâs not just a motto; itâs our truth.â
The boys listened intently, the festive atmosphere shifting quickly to a more serious tone.
âYou learned to fight for what you believe in, to support each other, and to never give up. Most importantly, you discovered who you really are. Thatâs what makes you Titans. And I want you to carry that with you forever. No matter where life takes you, always take with you the team spirit we built here,â Steele continued, his gaze steady and determined.
âNow, I have something important to share with you. Iâve been invited to take the position of offensive line coach at Ohio State,â he announced, and a murmur of surprise spread through the group.
âWow, coach! Thatâs awesome!â Rafe shouted, clapping.
âI know many of you dream of playing at a higher level, and this is the chance I need to take the experience you had here to a new level. But that means Iâll have to leave the Titans, at least for now,â Steele said, his voice firm, but a bit melancholic. The atmosphere became heavy, the reality of his departure starting to settle in among the players.
âI want you to know that this team meant everything to me. Each of you has incredible talent, and Iâll be cheering for all of you. As soon as I get there, Iâll make sure to stay in touch. And I hope to see some of these faces in September,â he said, looking into each playerâs eyes.
âAnd for the rest, donât worry! Iâll personally choose the next coach for the Titans. You can trust Iâll pick someone who will continue what we started here, someone who understands what it means to be a Titan. Trust me, after all, as you all say, Coach Knows Best.â
The boys started to applaud, the energy filling the room again. âThank you, coach! Youâre the best!â they shouted in unison.
âNow, get back to having fun! Go Titans!â Steele exclaimed, raising his beer glass in a toast.

The players shouted in response, excitement taking over again. They gathered in a circle, raised their cups, and yelled: âGo Titans!â
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
gale baldur's gate is truly a character of all time. like he just seems like a dorky college professor who eats magic or something and then 20 hours into the game he just drops
hey bestie đș do you have a second?đ„ș by the wayđ i have a magic nuke âąïž in my chestđŠ because i had a fucked up relationship with a goddessđ«ą who was also my mentorđ€ anyway ignore the implications of that đokay â
đ anyway i pissed her off đ pulling the most icarean stunt imaginableđ€ in a huberis led đ¶attempt to prove my loveđ for herâ„ïž and now because of my own folly đ€Ș not only could i blow up at any second đ„â° i lost the love of my lifeđ„° and cant do magicđȘ nearly as good as befoređ and i fear đ»losing my magic foreverđ because it's all i've ever knownâșïž and the only thing that makes sense to međ€đ
anyway if you want me to leaveđ foreverđ and die a horrible deathđȘŠđ alone đą i totally get it đâșïž
oh?âïž you're not gonna banish đ€ me to super hellđč yayđ€ if i feel like i'm gonna explodeđ„ i'll get as far awayđđ from you as possible i promise dont worry bestieâșïžâșïžâșïž
114 notes
·
View notes