#I will actually lose it if history repeats itself

[hummingbird-games]

Goodness 😵‍💫 brain fog was fogging, but this is just a blanket statement and a warning wrapped in one, so listen please:

Keegan is a trans black girl, uses she/her pronouns, and if I see any foolishness in the inbox or on future posts I make about Crushed concerning her, I. Am. Blocking. You.

(Find somewhere else to dump your transphobic/misogynistic/racist agendas.)

If I see people forgetting (AGAIN) that my current game characters are all minors, you’re getting blocked.

You need to have a long talk with your maker as to why all these 18+ indie titles exist but you’re harping on one little game where no one is legally able to give consent.

Basically…remember common sense, and if you wouldn’t say it to my face, don’t say it virtually.

I’m not reposting the filth from the ask box so if you’re a troll or otherwise attention starved, try Jesus not me!!!

[inun4ki]

i had a realization i don't like.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

I need a part 2 to ‘meddle about’😩 I loveee your writing

i was literally about to go sleep rn but made a conscious decision to ignore the needs of my body to write horny filth <3

☆ into you!

part 02 to meddle about! // in which the younger itoshi loses all inhibitions. //

synopsis: who knew being involved with itoshi rin would be such a headache? now, about 10,000 km away from home, you realize that you're stuck with him in barcelona. as distances between you two grow greater, the only thing that brings you closer is an... aphrodisiac?! pairing: afab!reader x itoshi rin [aged up.] wc: 5.5k cw: NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN CAUSE I LOVE DESPERATE MEN. MDNI. includes: A LOTTT OF PLOTTT!! dom-ish!reader x bottom!rin. one-room only trope (hehehehehhe), aphrodisiac, guided handjob, praise (m!receiving), overstimulation (m!receiving), rin cries so, i guess dacryphilia(?). they're both gonna piss you off and you're gonna love it. guess starring: rin's COMMUNICATION ISSUES 🗣️🔊 m.list

it took you exactly 45 mins sitting next to rin itoshi in a closed-off airplane to decide that either he was the dumbest man alive or he needed a guided lesson to understand social cues. or maybe, just maybe, he was such an entitled prick that he could just simply ignore a fuming woman next to him for forty-five minutes straight without as much as a worry-line on his pristine forehead.

you had huffed and huffed, and then huffed some more by the time rin finally asked you a question. the question? "are you cold or something?"

"no?" your eyebrows bunched at his question. could he not see the blanket you had draped over your lap as you had cozied in the seat he had paid for?

"then why are you making so much noise?"

"oh?" you scoffed, "if it is this hard to be seated next to me, then please get off on the next layover and catch a flight back home."

his answer came before you could even finish, "no, i'm good."

and then again, the cycle of silence repeated itself by dragging itself along it's sickening pattern. rin flipped through a magazine, locked in as if there was nothing more enticing to him than the history of airplanes and their mechanism, all while you fumed in your seat.

it's not like you wanted to talk to rin itoshi or something!

it's just the principle of the situation that pissed you off beyond belief! here you two were, sitting next to each-other in a metal contraception that was hovering several hundred feet above ground to land you in another continent — a process that was going to take several hours. there was absolute silence — most people dozing off, reading or watching a movie by themselves while enjoying the finer things in life like champagne and caviar.

if there was any place in earth to sort out miscommunications, then this was probably the top of that list! and yet, that raven-haired man lost himself in the world of airplane mechanics. like, what even?!

again, it's not like you wanted rin itoshi to apologize to you or something!

it's just shouldn't he atleast bother after trying so hard that day? i mean, it's not like you missed the way his hands felt or the expensive, well-curated fragrance of his car whenever he picked you up or dropped you, or whatever lopsided, half-baked smile he gave you every once in a while. no, it was the principle of the situation that was bothering you!

you sighed and rin gave you a side-eye without even turning an inch to face you. he cleared his throat, another question at the tip of his stupid — albeit, very skilled — tongue, "do you want to drink?"

"no." you spit out, almost impressed at how good he was at being wrong, "obviously not." actually, right now, with a headache next to you, some wine sounded delightful. "actually— i mean, wine sounds nice."

rin pushed the button to call the airstaff and you let go of any of your restraints. you turned towards him, body leaning into his physical space as if you needed to examine him up-close for brain damage, "do you really not know what's bothering me?"

"no." rin admitted seriously and your eyebrows furrowed at how sincere he sounded. you repeated, "you don't?"

he shrugged and you found yourself muttering, "seriously? you don't?"

"no," he turned his face to look at you and deadpanned, "either tell me what's wrong or shut up and go to sleep."

the audacity! here you were trying to communicate with him while he thought you should 'go to sleep'??? he should go to hell!

"fine." you clenched you jaw, turning around to wait for your wine in peace. under your breath, you muttered, "sae would probably never act like this."

"what was that?"

you turned to the pro-player, eyes narrowed and tongue venomous, "i cannot wait to see sae play in real life."

"thanks to me, yes." rin shrugged, "and his play isn't that impressive. the media just happens to make any lukewarm bullshit look good on tele."

"th-thanks to you?!" you spluttered, still not moving on from the first half of his statement, "i'm sorry but did i not refuse to come and you begged me—"

"—beg is a strong word."

"you begged me to come, rin itoshi." you bit back and rin turned to you with his own eyes narrowed, "i didn't beg you, i just didn't want you to think i took advantage of you."

"you literally, literally left me laying on the couch while you ran off to the bathroom for god-knows-what reasons!" you ranted, leaning in till your noses were inches apart and you two were all up in each other's business, "and then, next morning you left me all alone in your stupid penthouse—"

"i left you a text and food?" now it was rin's turn to act confuse. he inched forward daringly and the tips of your noses collided. eyes against yours in a heated dance, he hissed, "and i drew you a bath which you never even took."

"hah?" you scoffed, not pulling back lest he thinks he has won the competition against you, "that explains leaving me after we were done?"

"i rushed to the bathroom bec—" and then for the first time in his adult life, rin itoshi froze. because, tell me, how in god's name was he supposed to admit that just one look at your flushed, post-orgasm face had him spilling into his sweats as if puberty had hit him yesterday? just one split-second look away from your pretty pussy to your ruined face was enough for his to lose all physical restraint over his well-trained body? how could he let you see that, or even hear about it? it was embarrassing. worse, it was ego-threatening.

how was rin itoshi supposed to admit that he couldn't help but feel all types of things whenever you were around?

so, instead, he bit his tongue and made up an excuse — a bad one, but an excuse nonetheless, "i rushed because i remembered something."

"in the bathroom?" you repeated slowly and he nodded, hoping that the warmth of his cheeks wasn't on display.

"i— remembered that i needed to take a shower."

"immediately afterwards?"

"yes, sweat makes me feel gross." he nodded again, averting his gaze from you, "it's just one of those things."

"oh my god, you're such a fucking prick!" now, maybe those aren't the words you should be saying to the man who was paying for your flight to see your favourite player but he did just admit that he left you alone to take a stupid shower.

you two were only interrupted by the air-hostess bringing you a much-needed glass of wine. for the next nine hours till your next layover, you didn't even bother glancing at rin itoshi's stupid face.

but as you sat in silence, you realized that the upcoming days were going to be nice, atleast. you had planned an entire cozy itinerary without rin itoshi to meddle in your business, infact. the plan was simple: were going to land the next evening, and would probably stay-in that night to recover from the jet lag. the next morning you planned to visit some local areas, cafes, and such. and the third day was sae's match. then, you'd catch the flight home! fun!

so, you took in a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was only a matter of hours before you could get rid of rin. until then, all you had to do was ignore him. correct!

it was only after you had landed in barcelona that you interacted with rin — not too much though, only to thank him for the tickets and to avail you a taxi since he claimed he knew enough spanish to get around.

"what?" the pro-player cocked an eyebrow, dialing some number on his phone, "we're going to the hotel together, why do you need another taxi?"

"you paid for my hotel room?" your eyes widened, your grip on reality seemingly slipping as you realized that rin itoshi probably wouldn't book some cheap, 3rd-class hotel.

"yes?" he answered just as nonchalantly before answering the phone and sprouting out some spanish.

and there go your cozy vacation plans down the drain!

"you—" you were tongue-tied, so catastrophically shocked that you weren't even sure of what was happening and what wasn't, "why would you do that?!"

"well?" rin covered his phone half-heartedly, looking at you as if you were the one who had gone mad, "did you think i would just bring you here and leave you as it is?"

you stepped closer to him, voice hushed so as to not cause a scene at the airport, "i don't need more favours that you. i told you that."

"don't worry." rin muted the call with a quick swipe, "i am not gonna ask for any favours in return. this one's on me..." you almost missed the next few words, "cause i've been a prick lately."

you're not quite sure how it happened or why, but here you stood at the reception of a seven-star hotel while rin held a heated discussion with the staff in a foreign language.

many minutes passed by, following which the pro-player finally came walking back to you. his face fell, "they're saying they only have one room free."

"what?"

"i swear i booked two. i'm not playing around with you." you heard a mild panic in his otherwise cool tone and you held a palm up, "it's good — a sign from the universe! i should probably go, anyways. i'll find an accommadati—"

"no." rin was fierce. his face dipped lower, hot breath fanning across your face as he repeated, "you're not doing anything stupid like that. if anyone has to go, i will. you stay here."

"rin." you tried to argue but the receptionist called rin back for some reason. the next time rin came back to you, he was sickeningly pale.

"what did they say? someone has to go, right. i will—"

"—uh," the man looked at the polished marble underneath, his lower lashes so prominent as he closed his eyes, "they actually, kinda upgraded us to a honeymoon suite."

huh? honestly, this wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened to you this month. what's next? you're gonna go to the room and find a stack of condoms and a invitation for you two to fuc—

"—k me." you spoke aloud as soon as you entered the room. not only was it thrice the size of your studio apartment, and had a private pool in the balcony, but on the bed lay a stack of condoms, chocolates, cliche rose petals and an classy envelope with MR. AND MRS. ITOSHI printed on it.

rin picked the card up, opened it up and immediately went beet-red. you wouldn't be surprised if the card read "have a good time fucking!"

"i- i'll take the couch." rin stuffed the card deep into the pocket of his pants, ignoring the climbing warmth that painted his pale face uncharacteristically scarlet, "you take the bed."

"don't be ridiculous. i'm not taking the bed."

"there's no point arguing." he averted his gaze skillfully, hoping that the pink dusting his cheeks was not visible to you, "i... i'll take the couch. meanwhile, you can go wash up."

well, to be fair even the couches here looked better than your home couch but again, it was about the principle of the situation!

barcelona, day 01. evening.

truly, there was no point arguing with the rin itoshi because now, here you were ten minutes later, clearing the bed and throwing the chocolates and flavoured condoms in the side-drawer, never to be used by you two.

once done, you laid your clothes out and made your way to the shower. your footsteps were soft pitter-patters against the delicate rug and rin glanced back from the couch.

"shower?" he asked, and you nodded. at your curt answer, he pressed his lips into a thin line, "if you need something, call my name. i'll come."

you had slipped in the bathroom with nothing more than a soft nod to acknowledge him because... let's be real, why would you need him while showering? he could rest assured that there would no shenanigans happening on your end.

but now as the soft, luxurious soapsuds lapped against your skin so gently, the warm water of the tub slowly growing cold and leaving you devoid of any warmth in it's wake, you considered calling rin in.

closing your eyes, a dark, familiar curtain fell in front of your eyes and you tipped your head upwards. chewing on your bottom lip, you were divided whether the deal you and rin had once struck up still stood? and in that case, did you owe him something since he was responsible for your accommodation for the next three days here. but then again, he did act like a prick and maybe it was his way of making it up to you. but then again, he didn't act as much of a prick to repent by keeping you in a fucking seven-star residence.

you brought your hands over your face, the skin growing colder ever so slowly under the cruel stretch of time you were subjecting yourself to. then, some sort of peace washed over you. you dragged your hands down your skin, looking at the wooden door to the bathroom.

something clicked.

maybe, maybe this decision wasn't for you to take? maybe rin itoshi was the one who was supposed to decide if he wanted you or not?

"rin!" you called out, finally.

the doorknob turned almost immediately and you half-heartedly wondered if he had been standing at the edge, waiting for the echo of his name past your lips. of course not. but it was fun to imagine that rin itoshi wanted you so desperately.

on the other side, rin had been standing at the doorstep, listening to the soft cascades and waves of water as you took your sweet time in there. okay, maybe it was a bit pathetic for a pro-player like him to stand at the edge of a door waiting to be summoned but it's not like you'd ever know, right? right?

but as soon as he heard the shout of his name, his fingers found the cold metal and he stepped inside — and there you were. you had drawn up a flimsy towel to cover up your soaking body, soapsuds still clinging helplessly onto your legs as you stood at the edge of the humongous bathtub.

"ye-yeah?" rin commanded his attention to focus on the bathtub and not you. because if he looked at your soaked skin and hair, your perked buds against the soft fabric of the towel and the slightly rosy tint of your cheeks — rin was convinced he would either go insane from the idea or never having you again or do something that'll break the promise of being strangers.

"i, uh—" your gaze ran it's course from him to the vacant bathtub. a lone sweat droplet traveled down the ridge of your spine and you blamed the hotness of the enclosed bathroom for it. voice unsure, you asked, "i wanted to heat the water up. it got cold, so..."

"uhm," rin swallowed, brushing past you to look at the array of smaller buttons at the edge of the bathtub.

"this one." he pointed to a button which had hot written on it. "just press it till the temperature is to your liking."

"oh?" you leaned in, staring at the button next to him, "right." a nervous laugh rang out in that closed, hot room, "i don-don't know how in the world did i miss that."

rin turned around, avoiding to look at you, "s'okay."

you were so close that he could smell the fragrance of the expensive bath gel on your skin. the smell went straight to his head, intoxicating him and making him stutter in his usually confident demeanor. he wondered if he reached out and played with the wet strands of your hair, will you push his hand back or slap him?

but rin itoshi wasn't looking for the answer to that question, so he just asked, "anything else?"

you shook your head with a soft no.

"okay, then." rin took hurried step towards the door, never once looking back to you, "and hurry up, i- uh, i gotta wash up too."

"o-okay?"

he shut the door behind him with a surprisingly loud thud! and now, you stood in the previously occupied bathroom with a confirmed answer: rin itoshi did not want you. like... at all.

that's what his cold demeanor had told you, atleast. he had not even bothered to give you a look that lasted more than a spilt-second and then promptly left as soon as he felt it fitting. you sunk back into the cold water, half-annoyed at yourself for calling him and half-annoyed at him for being so fucking closed-off.

for the rest of the day, you both had minimal contact. he didn't bother you with questions, and you didn't annoy him with answers. rin was busy on his laptop, attending team meetings and answering sponsors about his sudden getaway to spain while you just sat on the bed, doomscrolling the rest of the evening away. somehow, within your silences, you both had found a comfortable pattern to just be.

that was until dinner.

"you're not going to bed?" you tried to ask, patting the pillows to fluff them up to your liking.

"no," rin didn't bother looking back from where he sat on the couch. a glass of wine pinched between his fingers, a monotonous expression on his pretty face, "i have some work to finish up. are you? going to sleep... i mean?"

"yeah." you nodded and a silence fell across the room. within the thick fog of silence, you could almost tell apart the strumming of your own heart. moments turned eternal and you held your bated breath for some kind of acknowledgement from him. when none came, you spoke up again, "are you sure you'd be okay on the couch?"

"mhm. don't worry."

"okay then," you pursed your lips, laying down on the godawfully soft mattress, "see you tomorrow... goodnight."

"g'night." he finally breathed out and you're not quite sure when exactly you fell asleep on the silken sheets, but you were awoken by the sound of someone showering once the sky was bright and clear.

barcelona, day 02.

rin didn't say anything to you as he walked out of the shower with his hair wet, nor did you say anything to him as you got ready for a day of tourist activities. he told you he was gonna stay in, said he had sponsor meetings and you bid him goodbye as you went out to see the place around. the day passed by in a blur of tourist activities and kind strangers, away from rin itoshi.

when you came back, he didn't ask you formal questions about how your day was, and you didn't tell him polite answers. you two stayed stuck in your cycle of silence. that was all.

that was all until it was far too late into the night, at least.

you stepped out of the shower, far gone to care about his presence in the room. it was clear that he held no desire for you, so you waltzing out of steaming shower with nothing but a robe was probably child's play to him.

hair wet, face flushed, you found your gaze drifting to the couch only to notice the absence of rin. eyebrows marrying, your gaze scanned the entire room carefully — from the empty couch to the dark balcony to finally, the least probable place: your bed.

and surprisingly, that's where you found him; face flushed, palms sweaty and limbs shaking as he met your eyes. what?

"rin?" instinct took ahold of you, steps rushing to reach the man who looked clearly unwell. you brought a steady palm up to his forehead, checking his temperature. your eyes locked against his dilated ones, words shivering under the intensity, "d-did something happen?"

"i—" rin almost gasped as you put your palm on his neck next to check for the temperature. voice growing gruff, he looked away, "'m fine. i jus' kinda feel— i feel weird."

"weird?" your brows bunched as you trailed a soft palm up to his cheek, and rin shivered under you. "weird how?"

"i dunno." his voice seemed to turn hoarser, as if it had gotten harder to speak with each wayward touch you planted across his scorching skin, "i- i ate their stupid chocolates and—"

"—what?"

"the ones you put in the..." he pointed to the side-table, "there."

you rushed to the side-table, clumsy fingers pulling out the heart-shaped chocolates only to turn them around to read if they said something. and oh boy, was there something they said. aphro—

"—odisiac." you breathed out the word, shaky vision travelling back to the pro-player who seemed to grow tenser and tenser with each passing second.

"rin," you called out carefully, taking a step towards him, "how many of these did you have?"

"th-ree, no, four."

"seriously?!" your voice squeaked, body turning towards him fully to take notice of the sweat beading at his forehead, the sheen plastered across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheek, his labored breathing.

he pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, trying desperately to dissipate the heat that his body seemed to torture him with "i feel hot, and—" rubbing his palms down against his sweats, he looked up at you, utterly helpless. "—what's happening to me? i- don't—"

"it's okay, it's okay." you cut him off, "take off your shirt."

rin followed your command blindly. nimble fingers pinched the ends of his t-shirt only to pull it off himself as fast as he could. underneath the material, his chest was flushed red to match his face.

"d-does it feel any better?" and rin groaned at your stupid question, "no."

the man shifted his pelvis, trying to pull at the waistband of his sweats when your gaze finally traveled to the tent in his pants. he looked pained, eyes frenzied and breath stuttering as he tried to figure out a position where his aching dick didn't drive him insane.

you stepped closer, and closer, and closer till you were standing a mere inches away from him. a finger under his sharp jaw, you pulled his face upwards to meet yours. a slow breath, "rin."

and he almost whimpered at the way you held him still, "y-yeah?"

"let me help."

at his feverish nods, you sunk to your knees. practiced hands tugged at his waistband and he complied all-too-excitedly to lift his hips up and free his cock of this endless torture.

his muscles visibly relaxed at your slow breathing against his heated tip — reddened, it oozed pre out that cascaded down his shaft. rin threw his head back, wet hair sticking to his nape as you placed a carefully calculated kiss to the tip. your tongue carefully pressed against his slit as you sucked on the tip and rin all but combusted.

"a-ah," his deep voice pitched up, hips squirming as you toyed with him, "fuck, fuck fuuhck—"

your hand pulled his towards his cock and he looked down at you, confused, "what..?"

your eyes stayed locked against him as you placed his own hand on the bottom half of his erection, hollowed cheeks still sucking on the tip. your hand encompassing his own, you guided him to slowly stroke himself as you kept toying with his flushed tip.

"fuck-ing god." rin breathed and for once, he didn't avert his gaze from you. your heated hold over his hand prompted him to pump himself faster. and although, his own touch was familiar, the way you looked up at him — all doe-eyes and sinful kisses — made his thighs shake.

"god—" his voice choked, head thrown back and eyes clenching shut in an effort to not cry at the way your tongue played against his silt, how your hand squeezed his, urging him, begging him to go on.

you let go of his tip only to pull his face downwards to look at you, "look at me. stop fuckin' running away."

and this time, a whimper did escape him at your words. lips wobbling, eyebrows bunched and lashline heavy with unresolved tears — rin itoshi was fuckin' beautiful as he stared down at you.

you pressed another kiss to the tip and his hand sped up under your command until— splash! his toes curled, body leaning back as his voice shook with desperate moans, and thick, white ribbons of cum painted his hand and your lips in a wretched pearlish glow.

rin huffed, eyes blown wide at the view of his essence on your lips and the way you seemed to pursue his taste with your tongue— cleaning him up so carefully that it made him hard all over again. shit.

a sudden strong hold on your arms pulled you upto him and his jittery fingers pulled at the belt of your robe to have you all to himself. as he tried to undo the knot with his shaky fingers, you raked a hand through his wet hair, travelling backwards till your palm was cradling the back of his head ever-so-softly.

and then, you pulled at the base of his strands and rin whined in response. the lewd sounds accompanied the driveling of his hips into the cold air, and with each strained rut, more of his cum oozed down his abused cock.

"fuck, rin." it was your turn to whimper, now. eyes blown and face heated, you looked between the man and his erect, throbbing, filthy cock. who knew rin itoshi could be so fucking messy?

eyes clenched, lips agape and breath stolen — rin itoshi was rendered useless and you pushed him backwards into the bed before disrobing yourself.

your naked body climbing over his, you pumped his overstimulated cock with a languid pace, using his own essence as a lubricant for his own undoing.

"fuck." his eyes stayed clenched, forehead drawn into lines as his body responded to each one of your endlessly torturous acts. he gasped as you kissed his neck, his jawline and then, his shoulder.

"you're doin' so well, rin." your voice was soft against his heated skin, and you kissed his jaw again, sucking slow enough for him to lose his mind. then, you repeated, "so fucking well."

and that seemed to be rin itoshi's kryptonite.

words pitched, moans obscene and muscles spasming under your touch, rin came again. and again, and again, and fucking again as you kept toying with him.

now, you're weren't sure if it were only a few minutes since he first came or hours, but as you tugged at his sensitive cock with the sensual drags of your palm, rin actually cried out.

"n-no more." more tears welled up in his eyes, cheeks so deeply flushed as he begged you, "p-please, i can't. i can't."

"you can, baby." you cooed, pressing your thighs together as his desperate pleas went straight to your throbbing cunt. ignoring your own swiveling desire, you pushed the man who once stood so tall to his limits.

"no, no." his hips jerked as you continued to drag your hands along his cock. teeth biting down into his bottom lips, tears fell down the plane of his face. clammy palms clenched and unclenched the silken sheets below as rin barely tried to stop his steady decline into deliriousness, "ple-please. i really can't."

"fine." you purred, hands coming to a slow halt against his heated erection, "i'll stop."

and just as you pulled your hands back to yourself, rin's wet eyes widened. despite his aching bones and jelly-like muscles, the man lunged forward to catch your wrist in his fingers.

"no," he breathed, eyes watering at the sudden lack of skin-on-skin contact. he repeated, this time with a bit of force in his voice, "no."

leaning forward, you caught his kissbitten lips against yours. cutting the kiss short, your words were soft against his, "you want it?"

and he nodded again, tongue rendered useless with how heavy it felt in his mouth. you drew a careful hand up his heated thighs, and he trembled under your touch, "say it out loud for me."

"yes." rin shook his head.

your lips trailed down to his jaw, featherlike kisses across his heated skin as your hand sped up yet again in that cruel, familiar pattern. his orgasm built like a crescendo, peaking higher and higher till he was shooting blanks.

when he was all spent out, rin itoshi shuddered and slumped against your arms. breath uneven, hair matted, skin sweaty, fiery and dusted pink as it made contact against your skin.

he looked up at you, half-lidded gaze still haunted by remnants of tears that clung onto his lashes. as if on instinct, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, soothing the searing skin under with your soft act. rin closed his eyes at the closeness, a gasp at the tip of his tongue because all of it felt so foreign.

he wasn't in control of his body — his trusty muscles felt lead-like, head hammering as if his brain would break-though his cranium, and heart thumping out a rhythm that sounded awfully like chants of your name. it was clear, rin itoshi didn't quite feel like himself as you cradled him so softly in your arms.

"you okay?" you asked far too softly, half worried that the wind will catch your words before it reached him. but to your surprise, rin nodded.

"i'll clean you up." you muttered, peripheral vision dragging along the sheets to see what a mess you two had made. his thighs and abs were painted white similarly to your hand, the fluid dripped down to the expensive sheets and stained them. you nodded with resolve, "rest up, i'll be done soon. yeah?"

a heavy croak stopped you. rin looked up at you, voice heavy and eyes watery as if one misstep and he would find himself losing control, "don't go."

maybe it was the finality in his voice that confused you, or the fact that he wanted you around. eitherways, you refuted with a soft shake of your head, "i- i really should, we've made a mes—"

"—don't go."

and so, you didn't. you let your body slump against the bedframe, scorched back against the cool wood and rin rested his cheek against your stomach, his arms pressed against your waist in an innocent hug. you raked your fingers through his sweaty hair before trailing them downwards to massage his nape and weary shoulders. his breath slowed down under your delicate touches and soon enough, he was asleep.

your hands stayed kneading at his muscles, gaze locked in at the man and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. with each soft inhale, the deep blush slowly eased away from his face, leaving behind the same stoic man you had known for a few weeks.

in this silence, you were starkly aware of two routes this relationship arrangement may go: 1) the most probable one: once the pro-player came to his senses, he will regret this — all that came before this, all that may come after this, you — and go no-contact. 2) the least probable one: he'd sit down and have a conversation with you, and then you both could figure out where things would go from here.

knowing rin itoshi though, you mentally prepared yourself for never seeing him again once this trip was over. it wouldn't be hard, obviously. how long did you even know the man? a few weeks, give or take. why would you mourn his presence when you never even quite had him?

you closed your eyes, fingers still softly playing with his tresses. you knew what was to come, knew that this was probably the end of him and you (or whatever it was between him and you), knew that him and you were just a series of favours for favours. and yet, your heart sank as you stared at his face for a moment too long.

rin itoshi was driving you insane!!

but however perceptive you may be, or however properly you think you knew rin — you miscalculated.

because neither did the man take the route of leaving you, nor did he talk things out with you. instead, here you were pinned against the wall in the supply closet. the supply closet of the very same stadium sae itoshi was playing at while rin stared down at you.

"a favour for a favour." he husked, "let me pay you back for last night."

rin itoshi was driving you insane.

a/n: love how i make everything into a three-part series :/ anyways, hope this was a fun enough read. i love men who are so emotionally unwell that it is borderline hilarious. what does that say about me? idk, nor do i wanna find out :) tagging: @ionlyhearnct @mortallyshadysoul @mindfulsreposts @mikaru0 @slutforitoshi @keiitamaa @loonalockley @ouraniaslyre @froggie-zusya23 @levcn @mimi-in-heaven i hope this was satisfying <3

[sandraharissa]

the problem for me with the Powder vs Jinx conflict or the idea of giving Jinx an arc where she realizes she's both or embraces both identities is that I never saw Jinx in s1 as someone who bought into the dichotomy, and I thought we the audience weren't supposed to either.

she was just playing into what her two caretakers who have drastically different ideas of who she is and what’s best for her wanted from her so that she would appeal to them/won’t lose them.

Jinx was just a grown up Powder, with certain traits that Powder already possessed becoming more prominent. and the crucial part here are her mental struggles.

post s1 it seemed universally accepted that Jinx's jinxiness comes from her trauma and mental illnesses not being taken care of and instead made worse bcos of many factors, but in the end Piltover was always the originator of all the problems.

Jinx could have had a line to Vi about how Jinx and Powder are the same person cos, for the sake of the sisters' arc, Vi needs to have that realization. but I never though Jinx needed that realization or that she needed to 'incorporate Powder into herself again' cos Jinx was always just a grown up Powder.

and so the way s2 handles Jinx ‘incorporating Powder’ or ‘going back to being Powder’ by waving away her mental struggles (and therefore also her jinxiness) was the only way they could have done it.

cos s1 was pretty clear that Powder vs Jinx was actually a Vi vs Silco conflict, and not a Powder=healthy vs Jinx=mentally ill conflict. and s1 finale was pretty clearly the point of no return, it was the final nail in the coffin, that she IS a jinx like she always was, which we saw in s1a1, cos she was always mentally ill. Her being jinx is inescapable (no matter how much she wishes this wasn't the case) just like severe mental illnesses are inescapable (and as s1 finale showcased not curable by the power of love or friendship).

this was already her do-over after the first tragic demise of her family, only for history to repeat itself. Hence the realization that she'd never be able to live a happy life in this hellhole. She might think there's smth inherently wrong or evil about her but the audience knows she just deserved basic human decency that Piltover failed to show to her and other zaunites, and so they created 'Jinx, the loose canon'.

what a brillinatly constructed tragedy and a tragic heroine. wish we saw her in s2.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

Noah had been texting you all morning, starting with the apologies the moment you woke up and while you were getting ready to go to work.

Noah♡: Fuck

Noah♡: I’m so sorry about last night

His messages came through fast after that, each one more panicked than the last, like he thought you might ignore him entirely or you could never forgive him.

Noah♡: I didn’t mean to fall asleep

Noah♡: I feel like such an ass

Noah♡: Actually, I am

Noah♡: Fuck

Noah♡: Please don’t be mad

He was clearly rattled. You thought he might feel a little guilty about missing dinner but his desperation to make things right surprised you.

Noah usually was the kind of person who could laugh things off and move on. But today, he seemed to be so terribly scared you might be mad at him.

You reassured him right away, telling him that it was fine, that you weren’t upset, but the texts kept coming.

Noah♡: I really wanted to see you

Noah♡: I feel like I screwed this up

Noah♡: I'm so sorry

The more he apologized, the more you started to realize there was something else underneath his words. It wasn’t just about last night, there was a fear there, something deeper. The more he texted, the more you started to piece it together: he wasn’t just scared of messing up the "date", he was scared of losing you.

And you knew that this behavior of his stemmed from the fact that a few years earlier, he had returned home to find it a bit too empty.

Maybe that’s why he was so afraid of screwing things up now: he didn’t want history to repeat itself.

Now, you stood behind the counter of the café, phone buzzing in your hand, trying to figure out how to get him to relax.

You: I’m really not mad

You typed for what felt like the tenth time. But it seemed that, no matter how much you reassured him, he didn’t seem to believe you. He was convinced that this one slip-up would be enough to drive you away. It made your heart ache a little, realizing just how much weight he was putting on this.

You: Everything's fine, I promise. I was just worried something bad happened.

You: I'm glad everything's fine. I'm not mad.

You: What about you come to my place for dinner tonight?

You: Just us and Luna this time.

No new texts appeared on the screen for a moment, then he answered.

Noah♡: Yeah, I'd like that.

Noah♡: We'd like that*

Noah♡: thank you

You: No need to thank me

You: I love you.

The answer this time, came really quickly.

Noah♡: I love you too.

That’s when the bell above the door chimed, and you looked up to see Jolly and Folio stroll in. You smiled, recognizing them immediately as they wandered over, glancing at the menu as if they hadn’t already memorized it.

Jolly caught your eye and grinned. “Hey, thought your favorite costumers would stop by for a caffeine fix,” he said, already pulling out his wallet.

"Hey." Folio waved at you with a small nod in agreement, scanning the pastry case like he hadn’t already tried everything in there.

"Sorry to disappoint you guys, my fave is Noah."

"He is not here now. You can stop lying." Folio laughed.

Soon, Folio and Jolly were sitting at the counter, the two of them quietly sipping your coffees.

Nick glanced at you over the rim of his cup, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know,” he began, his voice casual, “we’re really glad Noah found you.”

You blinked in surprise, but before you could respond, Jolly chimed in, nodding. “Yeah, man. It’s been great seeing him this way. He’s… different now. Definitely happier.”

You smiled softly, feeling warmth bloom in your chest at the thought. “Really?”

“Definitely,” Folio repeated, leaning back in his chair. “You know, after everything that happened with Luna’s mom, he just sort of… I dont know, he blamed himself. He thought it was his fault she left. You are just doing good to him. He's happy now. He's happy when he's with you.”

Jolly nodded. “He felt like he failed. As a father, as a partner. And now... he's just happy."

You listened, realizing more and more how Noah must have felt when he thought you were mad at him.

Jolly took a slow sip of his coffee before setting the cup down with a thoughtful nod. “It’s been really cool to see. I mean, we’ve known Noah for years, and he’s always been the type to just keep going, no matter what’s happening in his life. But since you came around, it’s like he’s more at ease. You can tell he’s genuinely happy. And I know you are taking things slow and you have known him for like... a year? And he's still getting used to the idea that someone actually loves him and is not gonna leave him again. But he is happier now.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the thought of Noah feeling that way making your heart lift. “I guess I didn’t realize how much things had changed for him.”

Folio shrugged, his grin widening. “He’s not exactly the type to make a big deal out of it. But we can see it. The way he talks about you, or when he’s just hanging out with you and Luna. The man is just in love."

You nodded, your fingers tracing imaginary drawings on the counter. “I’m glad. I really care about him, and Luna.”

Folio smiled, giving you a knowing look. “We can tell. And honestly, it’s been good for him to have someone who gets that being a good dad is really important to him. You fit into their little universe in a way that just… works.”

Jolly agreed, his tone easy and genuine. “Yeah, it’s like you’re part of the family now. Noah’s happy, Luna’s happy, and, well, we’re happy for him. For both of you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter at their words, the reassurance settling in. You hadn’t doubted how much Noah cared about you, but hearing from his closest friends made it feel more real, more solid.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, smiling at both of them. “That really means a lot.”

Folio waved it off with a grin. “Hey, no need to thank us. We’re just telling it like it is.”

The conversation shifted after that, naturally flowing into stories about the funny things Luna said recently and the band’s new ideas. The three of you laughed as you served a couple of costumers and they kept sipping their coffees, enjoying the calm of the morning.

After many hours, you finished tidying up the café as the last customer left. It was strange to think it had already been almost three years since the café first opened. Every inch held a memory, from the faint coffee stains on the counter to the tiny plant you’d been struggling to keep alive since day one.

Grace grabbed her bag from behind the counter, giving you a quick, almost begrudging nod. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you replied, locking up as the two of you stepped outside. The crisp late afternoon air hit you, a refreshing change from the café’s warmth.

You both walked toward your cars in the dimly lit parking lot, and as you did, Grace suddenly spoke up. “Three years, huh? Hard to believe.”

You nodded, smiling a little. “I know. Feels like we should celebrate or something, right? Three years is a pretty big deal.”

She glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. “You really think people will care?”

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged, already imagining a little celebration. “We could do something small but nice. You know, like a free cookie with every order, or free candies, maybe put up some cute decorations to make it festive.”

Grace tilted her head, her mouth curving into a smirk. “I’ll admit, I’ve seen worse ideas. Might actually bring in some new people.”

You laughed softly, not entirely surprised by her pragmatic approach. “Well, I thought it could be nice to show some appreciation for the regulars too. They’re part of why this place has done so well.”

She crossed her arms, considering it. “Alright, free cookies and some decorations. But nothing too cheesy, okay? No bright streamers or those glitter confetti things that get everywhere.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Deal. I was thinking about simple things, maybe a few extra plants or flowers around.”

Grace nodded approvingly. “Sounds reasonable. Let’s go over ideas tomorrow, though, after the morning rush.”

You agreed, feeling happy at the idea of adding a little extra warmth to the café. This place had become a second home, and celebrating that felt right.

As you each unlocked your cars, Grace gave you a rare smile, albeit a small one. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” you replied, returning her smile. “See you, Grace.”

With one last wave, you climbed into your car, thinking that before deciding what to do for the café anniversary you wanted to get ready for a perfect dinner with Noah and Luna.

That evening, in the kitchen, you prepped a simple but warm meal, setting the table with a couple of candles to make things feel a bit cozier - and because you always loved candles. You wanted everything to feel comfortable, something that would make Noah happy and put Luna at ease, being her first time at your house.

When you heard the soft knock at the door, you could already imagine Noah on the other side, probably looking a little nervous, one of his hands stuffed in his pockets, the other holding Luna's one, trying not to show just how much he had worried himself into knots all day as you knew he did.

Taking a quick breath, you opened the door to find Noah standing there with Luna next to him. She was clutching her little stuffed bunny, her eyes lighting up the second she saw you.

"Hi!" She waved at you, and you smiled.

“There they are,” you said softly, smiling as you stepped forward.

Noah’s eyes met yours, and he looked almost hesitant, as though he were still unsure if you were really okay with everything that had happened. Before he could say a word, you stepped closer, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck in a warm, reassuring hug. He held on to you, his relief almost palpable as he relaxed against you. Leaning up, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Hey." He smiled.

“Hey. I know its been only two days but I missed you,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He looked down at you, a small, relieved smile finally spreading across his face. “I missed you too. I’m sorry again, I really—”

You placed a finger over his lips. “Don't be stupid and stop apologizing. Come in.”

You stepped aside, holding the door open as they walked in, Luna looked around with curiosity, and she waved her plushie around as if introducing him to the house too.

After setting her down, Noah glanced around, still looking a little uncertain, but with each second, he seemed to relax more and more. The smell of dinner filled the room, and he raised his brows, sniffing the air with an appreciative grin. “Something smells amazing.”

“I tried my best,” you said, leading them both to the dining table where you’d set everything up with warm dishes and cozy candlelight.

Luna, always observant, tilted her head and pointed a tiny finger at the flickering candles. “Look, daddy, magic lights!”

Noah chuckled, a soft laugh you hadn’t heard in only a couple of days and you realized iu missed more than anything. He leaned down to her level, nodding. “Yeah, they are. Careful though, okay? We don’t want to get too close.”

She nodded, her eyes still on the candle.

The three of you settled at the table, and Noah helped Luna into her little chair beside him. As you began to serve the food, Noah glanced at you, his gaze filled with appreciation and something softer, deeper.

For a while, you just ate, comfortable silence settling between bites, the clinking of cutlery and Luna’s occasional little gasps of excitement over the meal filling the room.

At some point, Luna’s face lit up with excitement as she remembered something important. She turned to you, her eyes wide and sparkling.

“Guess what?” she said, bouncing a little in her chair.

“What?” you replied, grinning at her enthusiasm.

“We’re going to the zoo tomorrow! With everyone from class! Daddy says there’s gonna be giraffes and elephants and��” She paused for dramatic effect, leaning closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “And unicorns.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, glancing at Noah, who was stifling a smile himself. “Unicorns, huh?”

Luna nodded, her expression serious. “Yes! I’m gonna find them. They’re hiding, but I’ll see them for sure.”

“Well, then, I guess you’ll have to tell us all about it tomorrow,” you said, giving her an encouraging nod.

She nodded eagerly, taking a determined bite of her food, clearly already planning her adventure. Noah reached over, a warm smile on his face as he ruffled her hair gently.

As you all continued to eat, Noah glanced at you, his hand resting on yours. “I was thinking,” he began, giving you a soft smile. “Since I’ll be dropping Luna off early for her big zoo day, maybe I could pick you up and drive you to work? Stay a bit and grab something? If your coworker is not gonna kick me out.”

Your smile widened, warmth filling you as you met his eyes. “That sounds perfect. Thank you. And I'll protect you from Grace, don't worry.”

Noah laughed.

“Daddy always puts his music in the car!” Luna added, rolling her eyes a little.

You stifled a laugh, glancing at Noah with a playful smile. “Oh, I see, someone’s got a bit of an ego, huh?”

Noah chuckled, giving you a mock-offended look. “Hey! I'm just trying to raise her with the right music taste, thank you very much.”

You all laughed together, the table filled with easy warmth and conversation as Luna continued sharing all the animals she’d meet.

Noah caught your eye, his smile still lingering as he shook his head, clearly taken by his daughter’s antics. It was a simple moment, but it made everything feel… right. Like this was exactly where you both were supposed to be.

After dinner, Luna clambered down from her chair and, wandered into the living room, where she promptly set herself up in front of the TV. She leaned back, her little legs crossed as you offered her the remote, and she started pressing buttons until her favorite cartoon appeared. Soon, her laughter and excited chatter filled the room as she became absorbed in her show, completely at home.

You started gathering the dishes, but Noah stood up, gently placing a hand over yours. “Hey, let me help.”

You gave him a soft smile, nodding as the two of you worked together. Once the dishes were done, you both found yourselves in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, a quiet calm settling between you.

He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck with that same, slightly awkward expression he always wore when he was working up to saying something important. “I don’t think I can say it enough, but… thank you. For tonight. And… for not being mad.”

You shook your head, reaching up to brush a few stray locks away from his eyes. “Noah, stop it. For real. You don’t have to thank me. I understand. You are a dad, a singer, a songwriter and a boyfriend. And sometimes you are just tired. I understand. That doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. You are great at all these things.”

His shoulders relaxed as he let out a soft breath, finally letting the guilt slip away. “I just… I keep thinking that I’ll screw things up somehow. And I know I shouldn’t. But I do.”

“I know,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing light circles on his arm. “But I’m not going to leave over one missed date, okay? You’re stuck with me. And it was not even a date. Nick would have probably kept talking about the first time he went to the coffe shop and I poured a whole cup on him by accident.”

He chuckled, his gaze softening. “Good. Because I don’t want to mess this up. You mean… you mean a lot to me.”

You stepped closer, slipping your arms around his waist as you looked up at him, your face inches from his. “I’m here, Noah. For you and for Luna. I’m not going anywhere.”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel his heart beating steadily under your cheek, his warmth seeping into you.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped up in each other, Luna’s cheerful laugh drifted in from the living room, and Noah glanced in her direction, his eyes softening with the quiet pride he felt whenever he looked at her.

He smiled down at you, his voice low and filled with a quiet sincerity. “You know… I like this. The three of us. Like now.”

You squeezed his hand, giving him a gentle smile. “Good. Because I like it too.”

The rest of the night passed in a haze of warmth and laughter. You joined Luna on the couch, letting her explain every plot twist of her cartoon to you with animated hand gestures and gleeful expressions. Noah sat beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, his thumb gently brushing against it.

Eventually, Luna’s eyelids started to droop, and Noah carefully scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she mumbled sleepy goodbyes to you. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, murmuring soothing words as she settled into his shoulder with a content sigh.

Before he left, he turned to you, his face illuminated by the dim hallway light. “Even if you said I didn't have to thank you...thank you.” he whispered.

You nodded, pressing one last soft kiss to his lips before he stepped out into the night, Luna sound asleep in his arms.

As you closed the door behind them, you felt a sense of warmth settle deep within you, a sense of home that lingered long after they had gone.

The next morning, you waited by the door until you caught sight of Noah’s car pulling up in front of your place. The second you got in, he leaned over to give you a quick, gentle kiss, his eyes soft and warm, the early sunlight making the messy hair poking out from under the hood of his hoodie look even softer than usual.

"Good morning," he murmured with a smile.

"Morning," you replied, leaning in for one more kiss before he started the drive. You felt completely at ease, like the night before had cemented something new and wonderful between you.

“I wonder if Luna found the unicorns yet” you teased, breaking the comfortable silence in the car.

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, definitely. She was up all night practicing her ‘unicorn call’ just in case she needed it today. I think half the house is covered in glitter now.”

“She's dedicated, I’ll give her that,” you laughed.

As Noah pulled into a parking spot near the café, you noticed some activity across the street, where the old bookstore had been vacant for years. A couple of large moving trucks were parked out front, and people were carrying in boxes, furniture, and various pieces of equipment, and you couldn’t help but stare, wondering what might be going in there.

“Look at that,” Noah said, nodding toward the trucks as he put the car in park. “Guess someone finally decided to put that old place to use.”

“Yeah… wonder what it’ll be,” you mused, squinting to try and catch a glimpse of something that would give you a clue.

“Another cafè. To give you competition.” he joked, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a pretty big space, maybe it’s a gym or something.”

“Oh, please. This area’s too small for another gym. Maybe… a little art studio? Some kind of gallery, even?”

“Ooh, a gallery would be nice. You could go all broody, stare at abstract paintings, and pretend you totally understand what they mean,” you teased, nudging him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Or, I could bring you along and make you explain the art to me. I’ll just stand there, nodding like I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’d pay to see that,” you replied, chuckling. “Though, I wouldn’t mind a new bookstore. I always liked the smell of all those old books in there.”

“Now that,” he nodded, “would be amazing. We could take Luna, let her pick out her own books.”

You could both easily imagine it: a cozy bookstore, shelves filled to the ceiling with everything from children’s books to novels. For a moment, you both stood there, imagining it.

Then, he glanced at you, a soft smile lingering on his face. “Whatever it is, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, the two of you headed into the café. As you stepped inside, you flicked on the lights, taking in the familiar warmth of the place.

You moved behind the counter as you started getting things ready for the morning crowd. “So… I was thinking about an idea for the café’s anniversary. It’s been three years already, and Grace kind of agreed to a little celebration.”

Noah leaned on the counter. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, something simple. I was thinking free cookies or little treats, some decorations, maybe some plants or flowers around the place to give it a warm touch.”

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Sounds perfect, honestly. And if you need help with anything, I’ve got some stuff I could bring to add to the decorations. Old fairy lights, purple and pink, they were in my bedroom once, and some stuff we don’t use anymore.”

You perked up at that. “Really? That would be amazing. I think it’d add a lot. This place could use a little extra magic for the event.”

He smiled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Consider it done. I can bring them tomorrow, and we can figure out where to put everything.”

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He shrugged, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Anything for you. For this place too. It’s part of us, you know? It's where we met. If this place hadn't existed maybe we would never have met.”

You looked down, smiling softly as he held your hand, thinking about his words. “I don’t know about that,” you said, glancing back up at him. “Have you ever heard of the red string theory?”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah. I haven't heard of it since I was a kid though.”

You nodded, leaning on the counter a little closer to him. “It's about people who are meant to meet—soulmates, if you want to call them that—that are connected by an invisible red string. No matter where they are in the world, that string brings them together eventually. No matter what happens.”

Noah’s expression softened as he listened, his thumb absently tracing gentle circles on your hand. “So… you’re saying that even if this café wasn’t here, or if we’d missed each other somehow, we’d still end up meeting? Just… somewhere else?”

You nodded. “Exactly. Maybe it would’ve been a random bookshop, or in line at the grocery store, or at one of Luna’s school events. But, one way or another, we would’ve crossed paths.”

He smiled, a warm, almost awed look in his eyes. “Mh. I like that."

“I like that too,” you said softly. “And I think it’s true, you know? Like, we may not see it, but I believe there are little connections and coincidences all around us, nudging us in certain directions, bringing us closer to the people we’re supposed to know.”

Noah glanced around the café, as if seeing it with fresh eyes. “So, if it wasn’t this place, it would have been somewhere else… but, somehow, we’d find each other. I like that,” he repeated, his voice a gentle murmur, "I like thinking I would have found you anyway. And you would have found me."

Your smiled at that, nodding.

Then, you started getting ready for the day, giving Noah his usual tea and changing the little sign on the door from "closed" to "open".

A few people came in as the morning rolled on, and every now and then, someone would recognize Noah, offering a friendly wave or a shy smile. He didn’t mind, casually greeting a couple of fans and even pausing to take a quick photo with one, all while chatting with you as you worked.

The thing you were sure of was that the days at work you spent with Noah sitting at the counter next to you were always the best.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[vigilskeep]

do you actually have a ranking or like. rundown of each love interest's particular brand of insanity re: tranquil beloved...? or if that's too big an ask perhaps the highlights.. i am sitting so attentively reading all of the ones you've detailed thus far

in no particular order

zevran: cruel to the end to ask him to have his love’s blood on his hands again, but if he believed it was what they would have wanted, it would be the gentlest, tenderest, of assassinations

morrigan: what power does a templar possess that is beyond her ability to reverse? she will claw the answer from the far corners of the earth and the furthest reaches of the fade before she abandons what is hers

leliana: once, the chantry sunburst was a comfort, a sign of refuge in a world of darkness. now she can only see the one burned into their skin, the wondrous gifts the maker gave to them stolen in the maker’s name, the cruellest game he has played yet. could she keep her faith through such a test? would she even want to?

alistair: there is a hollow in his life that can’t be laughed around. a sick weight in the stomach, remembering flipping his runic token between his fingers in distraction through every chantry lecture where they promised this was necessary. he’s angry. he’s beginning to think he might be a very angry person, really. he’s beginning to think he’s got good reason

fenris: he wonders if, when the lyrium was touched to their forehead, it burned the way his does. he thinks better of asking. there was a time when magic felt like a curse on them both that he couldn’t break. he wants it back

anders: history always repeats itself. there are certain inevitabilities, foregone conclusions, lessons the circle teaches well. you escape, you get caught. you love something, they take it away. you destroy the last thread tethering a mage to humanity—you’re that brutal, that cruel, that stupid—and all you’ll have left is an abomination

merrill: she never understood tranquillity until it was this close; she could never really believe it was possible. it doesn’t matter. her love’s not quite here right now, even as she chatters away to them, but it doesn’t matter. you can fix anything, as long as you’re willing to pay the price

isabela: it’s her own fault, really. her own fault, for taking a chance on someone so targeted, so foolish, so—brave. her own fault for believing them, when they promised she wasn’t going to lose them. she should leave. there’s nothing left for her here. but it’s gotten so hard to run away

sebastian: this changes nothing. his love is as cold as the portraits that line the halls of the palace in starkhaven, as silent and empty as the chantry statues that offer no guidance for what will come. he still kisses their cheek, takes their hand, walks at their side. he is still a husband; he still has his vows, and one more to add to the rest—to find who blackened the maker’s name with this, and teach them what His judgement truly looks like

[shadowcanine]

NATALIE “SAMANTHA” RUPNOW, AND WHAT WE KNOW.

This post is for informational / educational purposes only, I do not condone her actions. What she did is horrific, but we must learn from it in order to stop it from happening again. If we forget history, it will repeat itself.

Natalie “Samantha” Rupnow is the 15-year old assailant behind the December 16th attack on Abundant Life Christian School in Madison, WI, which left 3 dead (including herself) and 6 injured- 2 of whom are facing life-threatening injuries, but as of today (12/17) seem to be, at the very least, in stable condition.

At 11AM EST, Samantha brought a handgun (believe it was a .9mm) into a mixed grade study hall, and opened fire.

The deceased include a teacher at ALCS, a student, and Samantha herself- though the victims have not been identified yet. In a press conference, the mayor was asked to identify them, and replied with “Why do you really want to know? Leave them be.”

The school, ALCS, has been described by students, locals, and alumni as “extreme.” It’s a Christian school that teaches that evolution isn’t real, and local politicians are hand-picked by God himself. According to current students at the school, bullying is an issue, but it’s not very severe. I recently spoke to one individual who said “Samantha wasn’t bullied. She was quiet, and didn’t fit into any of the friend-groups here, but she wasn’t bullied.” I have proof this individual attends ALCS, but I have no way of actually confirming these specific claims, so take them with a grain of salt.

Samantha was a part of the TCC, even owning a replica of Eric Harris’ “HELL YEAH KMFDM” shirt- the one that he wears in the cafeteria video. Samantha clearly drew inspiration from Columbine, but Sandy Hook may have also been a factor- this year, the anniversary of SH fell on a Saturday. Samantha committed her act the next possible school day.

Her manifesto was posted onto her X, @postalbrained, but it was done on Google Drive- and Samantha did not make the document public. Her account has since been made private by a friend, but Samantha’s boyfriend has released the full 6 page manifesto to an influencer- it can be found on the X account @slatzism . I will not post it here for sake of not wanting to lose my account.

I have very little to say regarding her manifesto- this post isn’t one for my opinions, so I’m trying to keep it factual. Despite reading and re-reading, I cannot figure out a clear motive. She did state that suicide without taking anyone with her would be “a waste”- which may be a reference to the Zero Day (2003) scene, in which Calvin Gabriel says.. basically the same thing. This isn’t confirmed, but it would make sense, as she liked a lot of Zero Day content on Tumblr.

As far as her family goes, Samantha claims she didn’t have a good relationship with either parent, describing her father as “verbally abusive” and sharing a memory in her manifesto in which her mother ignored Samantha’s crying, because her mother would rather “spend time with her boyfriend.”

A lot isn’t known, so this post isn’t very long- and I will be updating it as I discover more, but while I have your attention, I’d like to clear up some misinformation:

- Samantha Rupnow, 15, and her boyfriend, 17- are both cisgender. Samantha is not trans, and never was- anybody who tells you differently is trying to push an agenda.

- Samantha was not a misandrist or radfem. This comes from an alleged “segment of her manifesto” that was leaked, but the photo has been proven to have zero correlation to Samantha. If anything, she was incredibly misogynistic, dedicating an entire section of her manifesto to slut shame women.

Here are all confirmed photos of Samantha Rupnow:

* note that the first photo includes her edited photo (left) as well as the original photo (right)

[yuki2sksksk]

Currently seeking for kny reincarnation fic, if anyone has a recommendation, please do tell. Anyway, a what if:

Yoriichi reincarnation au usually have him set in with the Kamado, but I keep thinking the 'what if' paths, wondering how it would be if he's with the Rengoku instead or the Tokitou...and then I decided to have him being with the Butterfly sisters.

Listen, listen, listen. Yoriichi hates conflict but understands the situation of push comes to shove. Though, among the Butterfly girls, he finds ways in helping with aiding the injured and providing medicine. He is still as strong as he was in his first life, so he's extremely fast and can carry multiple people at once to the Butterfly estate. He finds comfort in this way to help the corps.

But he, with his original strength and ability, believes that perhaps this is his second chance in destroying Muzan once and for all. Despite this, doubts and hesitations stop him from picking up a sword. The pain of knowing people suffer from his failure in defeating Muzan lingers, but he questions himself, what if he failed again and worsened the situation? What if history repeats itself?

One day Yoriichi spots Kanao about to sneak off to the Final Selection, both staring at each other in silence. He could tell Shinobu of this, or just turns a blind eye.

Or he could join Kanao in the test.

As for Uta with the Kamado...

I imagine she isn't actually biological related to the Kamado, but they raised her since she's all alone after a disease took over her old family (she awfully finds familiarity in the pattern).

Uta who acts like a mother to the Kamado siblings. (She doesn't know where the motherly instinct comes from.)

Uta who had a panic attack at coming back from helping Tanjirou selling charcoals in the town, seeing the other Kamado laying in their blood. (Her stomach throbs painfully.)

The sight of Nezuko attacking Tanjirou makes her freeze. (Memories flickering, she finds herself being in Tanjirou's place and an unknown demon in Nezuko's.)

Uta, who just receives her memory and wants to help returning Nezuko back to human. Uta, who takes longer in using breathing style because of the constant pain in her lower abdomen. Uta, who keeps freezing at the sight of demon attacking. Uta, who hates how helpless she is.

Uta, who sees Tanjirou and Nezuko as her children, and refuses to lose them.

This AU is still under work so I'll see if I should change some things.

[maybebi47]

listening to wbn ep 22 and im losing my actual mind because its always just suvi!! at the end its just suvi and her inaction and her regrets!!

one, two, THREE TIMES! something happens, suvi is given an order, she stays, they dont wait for her. one of them makes a choice, the choice is not suvi. they both leave.

and i keep thinking about her fear of history repeating itself, i keep thinking about "When I remember this part, this is the regret. That I wish I had said I love you back. I wish I had hugged him or climbed out of the cart and followed him and refused to not go with them wherever they were going. But I was so worried that I would start crying again, that I wouldn't be good, that I just sort of sat there and let all of this happen. And I didn't say anything or do anything." and about how that tiny little child was given an order and about how she will always follow the order before her own heart and about how that always leaves her all alone

[danielsarmand]

ok but actually let's circle back to this for a sec because it gave me A Vision of present day!DM and 70s!DM overlapping as they interact and i am losing my grip on sanity

like imagine daniel and armand are having an intimate scene of any kind and the moment keeps sort of glitching back and forth between them now and them back then in a “history repeats itself” type of way, so it visually does kind of create this threesome assad is yapping about. we could literally have it all and they WOULD be on board with it. i need them to risk it with the old man yaoi we can't be playing around here sorry

[riririnnnn]

I wonder if Ness is still going to blame Isagi for everything.

I kinda never understood Ness's obsession for Kaiser. Like, Reo's obsession for Nagi is rather understandable—there are very clear reasons for it, but for this magician, I can't see anything with clarity. Honestly, to be precise, I'm rather confused about whether Ness is obsessed with Kaiser or he is obsessed with the magic Kaiser brings into his life.

You see, after finding out about Soccer, this sport became synonymous with magic for Ness. And we all saw what happened in the BM's tryouts—he was on the verge of completely losing his faith in his magic when Kaiser came into his life as a knight in shining armour, which got me wondering if Ness actually fears that history will repeat itself if Kaiser isn't there with him anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not the smartest person in the world—I never understood and still can't understand why was Ness even so pissed off with Isagi in the first place.

I've went back and forth through the chapter where Ness first said, "Damn you, Yoichi!" and I'm just not able to understand what ticked him off so much. Yes, I understand he said something along the lines of, "This is the first time Kaiser is so riled up because of someone other than me."

...and?

I mean, so what if Kaiser was riled up because of someone else? Why was Ness so mad about it? Was he fearing something? What was it? Did he think Isagi was going to take his place or something? But what Ness is to Kaiser is very different from what Isagi is to Kaiser.

I just can't understand.

Like, he praises and praises and praises Kaiser—he makes and keeps him like he's the top of the whole world.

But for what? Huh?

Why exactly does Ness need Kaiser so much in his life?

Without knowing the answers to these questions, I can never say anything with 100% confidence about this duo.

Also, I kinda found this weird:

Kaiser never said that Ness isn't enough for him—he simply said that he doesn't need him anymore. So, why is he trying so hard to show his abilities to him? Hm?

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Masterlist

Hi! This is so I don't lose track of my fics so far. I thank you all for your kind reviews and reblogs, they make my day. Main is blueredwrites. Feel free to drop your thoughts be it in the form of asks, replies or reblogs. 😉

REQUESTS NOW OPEN! SEE THE RULES HERE

What am I working on?

✨️ Indicates smut.

🪆 Indicates possibly triggering.

🍂 Indicates angst.

🧸 Fluff.

House of the Dragon

Alicent Hightower

Oneshots

Crime and Punishment ✨️🪆

The Queen and you get along wonderfully. After all, the strongest friendships are based on shared interests.

Speak now

Alicent is not too sure of how she feels about you. Or about the fact you just proposed to run away. But she is sure about how she feels about the wedding. 

Harwin Strong

Oneshots

Win some, lose some✨️

Harwin and his wife have a disagreement over communication skills. The end result is exactly as the title says.

Lemon cake ✨️

Harwin’s wife is a tough crowd.

Aegon Targaryen

Oneshots

Daedalus

On the eve of Aegon’s coronation, both of you disappear. Your mother imagines a thousand scenarios. But were you really abducted by him or is it a simple coincidence?

Aemond Targaryen

Mini series

Death in four moves 🪆

Aemond and his new partner explore trusting again after SA.

Death in four moves 🧸

Whatever souls are made of 🍂🧸

MAD

Caught in the crossfire of your familiy's ploys, you never expected to catch the eye of the enemy.

Threads of fate

Muña✨️

In which you find yourself caught in a deadly game of tug of war between two dragons. Daemon, your husband, and Aemond, the man who promises to make you a widow.

Oneshots

Last man on earth ✨️

No one told King Aemond about the Song of Ice and Fire. As the daughter of Rhaenyra, you have one last mission left.

Categorical✨️

Aemond needs to blow off some steam, so you offer to verbally spar with him. 

Last word ✨️

Aemond instructs you on the importance of protecting your virtue.

Push and pull ✨️

You just love riling him up. Especially on his name day.

Bouquet of Violets 🧸🍂

You are happy in your marriage, even if your husband can be quite hellish. It all starts to go wrong when a secret admirer shows up.

The Seamstress ✨️

Prince Aemond is your favorite client.

We light the way

House Hightower does not have dragons, but they have a magic of their own.

No masters or kings🪆

Aemond has issues around sex. The thought of being married to you, an angel, it's not helping.

Unforgivable

Aemond and you are tired of being pawns. Instead of chess, you decide to play draughts.

Young Gods 🪆

History has a way of repeating itself. Ft. Hades! Aemond.

A Challenge

In which you are in a search for identity, and Aemond is in search for a way to prove his superiority to your father. Somehow, both of you find each other.

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Honesty✨️

Daemon seduces his unwilling Lady Wife.

Mirror

Courting. Daemon's version.

Staring back at you✨️

Companion piece to Mirror. You have married Daemon. Now, it is actually time to bed him. You find out you have a few more things in common with your uncle than you thought.

Capital

You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.

A Thousand Words ✨️

You want to marry him. He wants to fuck you. The two things are not as incompatible as they sound. 

Violent delights 🪆

As a dornish princess, you live by one saying. All is fair in love and war. When Prince Daemon stumbles into your life, you start to reconsider your stance.

Lookalike

Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Bestiary ✨️

Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Vūjigon ✨️

Companion piece to Bestiary. Daemon has been having sex without love his whole life. It's easy. Marriage should be more of the same, right?

The dragon has three heads ✨️

It's Viserys first day as a King. You and your twin see him off.

You wouldn't believe the things I have done for her ✨️

Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

Gold rush ✨️

Your whole life you have been Daemon’s voice of reason. Tonight, you choose to be the impulsive one. 

To conquer

Incest is common amongst Targaryens, Daemon assures you. Unfortunately, Alicent got to you first.

The girl with the pearl necklace ✨️

You marry Daemon to secure an alliance. But surprisingly, you find a haven in him.

Two ships

Two people who do not understand each other, but keep coming back together. Familiar much? It’s the tale you share with your brother, Daemon.

Clad in sea

It is not Harrenhal, what drives Daemon to the Gods Eye. It’s the memories of you and your daughter.

The Brave

A collection of first times with Daemon

Miniseries

Little lamb✨️

After the death of Viserys Targaryen, CEO of Targaryen industries, his heirs get into a legal battle over the validity of the will. It's a terrible time to start fucking your sister's brother in law. So of course, you do just that.

Divine intuition ✨️🪆

My take on modern reader meets Daemon

Threads of Fate

Pyrite✨️

A nefarious plot to place Princess Rhaenys on the Iron Throne leaves you, a handmaid, as the sole witnesses. Deciding to save an innocent life, you find yourself an unlikely protector. But Prince Daemon does not make favors lightly.

Helaena Targaryen

Golden Chains✨️

Helaena isn't yours, but you are always hers

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Oneshots

Baby teeth

Cousins. You love them or you hate them. And Rhaenyra knows exactly how she feels about you.

Three-headed dragon ✨️

Three times Rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. Or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

Doom of Ghis✨️

You decide to trick a Queen. It doesn't go quite according to plan.

Threads of Fate

Viserys Targaryen (Yuck)

The dragon has three heads ✨️

It's Viserys first day as a King. You and your twin see him off.

Events

Halloween

Useful writing things - Episodes.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

[nimcoconut]

the thing is, jegulus makes perfect sense to me genuinely. And I understand the gripes that people have with it, so i'm going to try and outline my thought process. i could talk about how good of a ship this is for HOURS.

• Regulus and James would have constantly been in each other's orbit at Hogwarts. Think about it. They're both on the Hogwarts quidditch teams (regardless of if jenes was a seeker or chaser ik it's up for debate) we all know how serious James Potter took quidditch. they would've been marking each other in games, taking notes of tactics etcetc. Plus with Sirius being James' best friend he would've been even more acutely aware of Regulus, like come on. If nothing else, then because of the arguments the black brothers would get into at hogwarts. And the stories Sirius would tell him in their first few years at Hogwarts, because hello, before Sirius went to Hogwarts who was his closest ally? who did he survive an abusive home life with? REGULUS. so james knew of him, DEFINITELY was introduced to him on the hogwarts express during second year (before slyhtherin sorting).

• James being Sirius' best friend and ultimately in Regulus' eyes, the person who replaced him as Sirius' best friend. He would've resented him, because before him and Sirius fell apart, they were all each other had and SUDDENLY sirius has this other rock, this but that he admires so much. You're telling me he wouldn't be raging at being replaced? On high alert of awareness, not only for his brother that he was steadily losing but on his best friend who replaced him???? the tension?? hello?? And once they got to know each other and he has that "oh so this is what he saw in you. oh wow" Moment??

•James potter, sunshine reincarnate, who believed in others even when it came to his own detriment would 100% try to save regulus. Believe he could. A lot of people say this doesn't fit James' character because he "wouldn't lie to his friends" But I think you guys are putting him in a box. I think he's just as capable of keeping a secret as anyone else. Especially when he thinks it's for a bigger purpose.

•I love the idea of a love greater than Regulus' loyalties to his families being what inspired him to take the horcrux. Like The symmetry of both Black brothers being guided by James into the light?? That his love saves them both in different ways?? How is it not the perfect ship.

Enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, regulus falling first but james falling harder, the COMPLICATED nature of it. how much of this is vindictiveness towards sirius and trying to take something away from him, of reclaiming and how much is just pure admiration for someone so good and selfless? How much is this about James' saviour complex? You anti jegulus people are not seeing the bigger picture.

ALSO HOW IS IT ANY DIFFERENT TO DRARRY??? Its the PERFECT foil to drarry. Because this truly is a world where history repeats itself. Pressured into the dark arts by his family's expectations but couldn't stomach pushing through when it actually came down to it? And his beautiful sunshine boyfriend who embodies the GOOD in the world despite everything. Give me 10 more of it right now.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

The Other Side of Paradise (Glass Animals)

Bye bye baby blue/I wish you could see the wicked truth/Caught up in a rush, it's killing you/Screaming at the sun, you blow into/Curled up in a grip when we were us/Fingers in a fist like you might run/I settle for a ghost I never knew/Superparadise I held on to

"It's just like. The angstiest of songs. If you listen to it you get it."

The Mind Electric (Miracle Musical)

See how the serfs work the ground (See how they fall)/And they give it all they've got/And they give it all they've got/And you give it all you've got 'til your down/See how the brain plays around/And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see/And you fall inside a hole inside a-/Someone help me

Understand what’s going on inside my mind/Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me

Nuns commence incanting as the lightning strikes mine temples thus/Electrifying mine chambers wholly, scorching out thine sovereignty so/Spiralling down thy majesty, I beg of thee have mercy on me/I was just a boy, you see! I plead of thee, have sympathy for me!

"The lyrics just hit hard with all of the imagery and shit, being used alongside the song glitching and a 3 minute long sequence (an un-glitched version of the song) that plays backwards in full before the song begins, conjure up a very interesting view/idea/image of losing your sanity. Plus, the song has a really interesting history in terms of its creation."

"first listen: "damn its weird that this has itself backwards haha" second listen: ⚡️⚡️🧠SEE HOW THE BRAIN PLAYS AROUND🌩😈AND YOU FALL INSIDE A HOLE YOU COULDNT SEE☁️⚡️AND YOU FALL INSIDE A HOLE INSIDE A🤴🗣SOMEONE HELP ME⛈️🪐UNDERSTAND WHATS GOING ON INSIDE MY MIND🗣⚡️DOCTOR I CANT TELL IF IM NOT ME!!!🌩🌩☄️ anyway, there are actually 2 versions of this song !! since the first half of the song is the second half backwards, but one of the halves has a series of artistic glitches and repeats and skips! the "distorted version", which is what youll find on spotify, has the glitchy half played forwards, and the "nondistorted version", which is what the official channel posted on youtube, is reversed so the unglitched half plays forwards! its a remaster of a previous song Joe Hawley worked on as a member of Tally Hall called "Inside the Mind of Simon", and it has TONS of little easter eggs and details scattered throughout. distorted speech from old movies, clips from old songs, theres this part where chanting voices sing "axon, dendrite" and "help me" over and over which (imo) you really only hear if you know to look for them, theres an intricate synth arpeggio throughout the entire climax of the song that im in love with— its the source of the synth tune in the next song on the album, Labyrinth (the funny "i am the mouse" song)! i have yet to find a blorbo i cant picture to it but considering that my main oc's theme is madness, its her perfect chance to star. in conclusion, your honor, I love the mind electric."

"it's a story of a man getting sentenced to an asylum for a murder he didn't commit, and there he is subjected to electroshock therapy. the synth alone fucked me up the first time I heard it. not to mention the awesome lyrics and various styles throughout the song. oh also the first 3ish minutes of the song are in reverse. so there's that."

"Somehow I feel like it's the story of my life. Also, the first half of the song is the second half of the song played in reverse."

The Mind Electric submitted by @lesleyn +@omegasmileyface +@that-bi-fan + others

[battleangel]

A History of Violence

I wonder if Kris Jenkins who was recently drafted in the second round by the Bengals, same name & same position as his father who was a Pro Bowler who played 10 seasons for the Panthers, Patriots & Jets, ever bothered to read what his father told the New York Times in 2011 about what it was like playing in the trenches in the NFL?

Kris Jenkins - View of Life in the NFL Trenches

Article Excerpt

"N.F.L. fans, people outside, they have no clue what goes on. This isn’t like playing Madden. This isn’t like being the popular kid in high school. When you do those things in the real world, and it don’t work out, you still have your health. The thing about football is you’re directly playing with your life, the quality of it and the longevity of it. The stakes are up there.

You ever been in a car crash? Done bumper cars? You know when that hit catches you off guard and jolts you, and you’re like, what the hell? Football is like that. But 10 times worse. It’s hell."

Nothing is questioned, nothing is learned.

Cycle and history of violence from father to son continues.

The son will just repeat everything his father went through.

Life in the trenches, on the line.

His fathers New York Times article was only written 13 years ago — did his son even bother to read it?

Article:

"The debate about concussions wasn’t there yet. I’ve had more than 10, including college and the pros. Nobody cared. And that’s the thing. We play football."

Are we as an audience, as fans, as a nation of football loving fanatics so blasé about the same violence that was visited upon the father being visited upon his son?

Does that not even get us to collectively pause before checking pre-season match ups in preparation for Week 1 next month?

America's collective Christmas in September — footballs back!!!!!!!

Do actual thoughts ever creep in amongst the unbridled ebullience, enthusiasm and unchecked joy of, "Football!!!!!!!!!!!!".

Or is the unthinking emotion inherent in football fanaticism across all levels, players and non-players alike, the point?

The pure emotion and the short circuiting of logic.

Its probably not a great idea for me to go bash my head against that dudes head 70 to 80 times a game, every game, every season.

But, its football!!!!!!!!!

So, nothing else matters?

Unlike rules now protecting quarterbacks and other positions from helmet to helmet hits, absolutely nothing has changed for offensive & defensive linemen and running backs — you're still smashing yourself head first into a concrete wall — as a running back, 20 to 30 times a game and as a lineman, 70 to 80 times a game.

No matter how much the NFL lies about this and tries to pretend the issue is concussions, its not — the existential issue threatening the sport of football itself is the repetitive SUBconcussive head impacts involved in every blocking and tackling play in football.

They are absolutely unavoidable and occur literally over a thousand times every single season.

It is these repetitive subconcussive head impacts — average 1500 hits to the head per season in high school, football & the pros — that 10 to 15 years after their playing careers are over, can cause neurological disorders and conditions like CTE, Parkinsons disease, Alzheimers disease, ALS and dementia in former players.

We have seen the movie before.

Im pretty sure Will Smith was in it.

And even that movie was nothing but masterful subterfuge from the NFL as they named it as their eternal smokescreen — Concussion — instead of what actually turned Mike Websters brain into CTE mush — Repetitive Subconcussive Head Impacts.

Doesn't have the same Hollywood ring to it, does it?

But it doesn't make it any less true or the NFL any less deceptive.

The NFL's own disability paperwork for former players says players can be compensated as early as 36 for early-onset dementia.

Is a game really worth someone losing their literal mind at 36?

When do we question the every day violence inherent in every tackling and blocking play in football?

Article:

"I remember one game, at Carolina, my second year. We played Arizona, and the double team weighed 780 pounds combined. They just kept double-teaming me, hoping I would fold and cave in. I didn’t. But that was probably the most painful day I had.

From the double teams, over the years, I wore the left side of my body down. I was past hurt.

I was at the point of numb. Like my body was shutting down nervous systems, so I didn’t have to deal with pain.

The numbness started at the very beginning. I couldn’t feel part of both arms. I couldn’t feel part of both legs. It was worse on the left.

I’m just starting to get feeling back in my left side. Look, football is no joke.

But I’m going to say this much: somebody has to be the grunt. That’s why there’s no better position on the field than interior defensive line. Forget quarterbacks or specialists. They’ve got it easy. If we don’t come to play, nobody else on defense can do their job. We’ve got the toughest job on the field. We don’t care about our facial hair. We play a grimy position.

Piles, oh, my God, they’re brutal. I’ve had my ankles twisted. I’ve been bit. I’ve done stuff. I’ve tried to break guys’ elbows, pinching people, twisting ankles, trying to bend up their arms, pop an elbow out. Why? I had to fight back."

Tackle football is cognitive dissonance & constant dissociation.

The inherent violence of football is never seriously questioned nor is it held up under a critical lens.

The most violent, punishing plays are casually dismissed post-game by players waving their hands and saying, "It was just a football play."

Yeah — thats actually the exact problem.

Ah, pile ups. Just a good old fashioned rugby scrum.

Nothing dehumanizing, nothing to worry about.

As long as its not my dick being grabbed at the bottom of a pile as I dig my way through my second bag of Fritos Scoops, safe and secure on my couch, while those dumb fucks kill themselves for an oblong shaped ball for my entertainment.

Exploitative, much?

The spectacle of the pile up.

The brainwashing so clearly evident when grown adult men who would be ashamed to act this way publicly over anything else suddenly leap in unison into the air like feral animals as Troy Aikman shouts with unfettered glee, "The ball is loose!!!!!!".

So is our collective humanity in watching a several ton mass of flesh undulate, eye gouge, scrotum twist, bite, spit and hurt each other for...what?

Us? Them? Football?

Article:

"Mentally, we’re conditioned to be tough. We’re conditioned to feel no pain. The only injury I ever felt while playing was when one of my knees tore. That’s the only time I felt pain and was like, O.K., that hurt.

But Mondays, you wake up, and it’s hard to get out of bed. It hurts wherever you got hit. I remember one time getting hit by Edgerrin James. He put his head in my chest. I woke up, and I couldn’t even move, because it felt like my chest was going to collapse. It was sore for days. All you want to do is get the blood circulating.

Hot tub. Cold tub. Hot tub. Cold tub."

Hot tub. Cold tub. Hot tub. Cold tub.

That's brainwashing.

A dissociative brainwashing ritual to dissociate the self from the pain & violence of the game.

It's like Junior Seau when he referred to himself in third person when he was mic'd up for NFL Films before every single hit for the duration of an entire game.

Very creepy if you can find it on youtube.

It literally sounded like he was programming himself to hit, then he would hit the hole, collect himself on the ground and do it.

Hard. Goddamned hard.

Again. And again. And again. And again.

If thats not brainwashing, what is?

Article:

"The brain fog? It still hasn’t stopped. It feels like you’re punch-drunk, like someone hit you over the head. It’s like you knock yourself stupid. When you have to concentrate on things, then it becomes an issue. My head gets foggy to the point where I really can’t function."

And yet you put a helmet on your son's head and you sent him out to play the same position.

Like father, like son.

Just like fathers in the military who have sons who "follow in their footsteps".

Often, articles will speak of a newly drafted player's heritage and lineage in the sport and if his father had a storied career, the hyperbole of the newly drafted son "being born to play" is routinely trotted out.

Smacks of eugenicism, genetic determinism, militarism, rigid heirarchies, dynasties.

Capitalist masculine toxicity.

Article:

"We know it’s going to hurt. We know because pain in football is consistent over time. You’re still hurting in the off-season. You’re hurting when the next season starts.

I mean, guys play hurt, but it’s a choice. They do a pretty good job now, with all the scrutiny around concussions.

On the line, it’s still painful. By the end of the year, half an offensive line might be getting shots, draining fluid from their knees. Most stay away from cortisone now, because it’s degenerative.

Everything gets off center. Bulging disk. Herniated disk. For linemen, it starts in the lower back. Throws everything off."

What did Jason Kelce recently say on his podcast with his wife?

His back is so fucked up from playing football that he cant bend down to pick up his 1 year old daughter nor can he hold her while standing.

Kelce also played on the line as the center for the Eagles.

Is it worth it?

Should children be playing this game?

Should anyone in its current incarnation?

Has science shown that the risk of repetitive subconcussive head impacts causing neurological conditions & disorders is too high for any child to assume?

What about teenagers in high school who are legally minors and not adults?

Should they be able to assume risks as teenagers that can mentally incapacitate them later in life as soon as their 30s?

Potential suicide due to CTE in their 20s?

1500 hits per season every season starting in high school.

So, that's 6k hits to the head in four years of high school football.

Another 6k more hits to the head in four years of college football.

12k hits to the head before the pros not counting youth football prior to high school which is ages 5 to 14 aka Pop Warner.

Even 5 year olds endure on average 336 hits to the head every season in Pop Warner.

5 year olds!

Kindergartners!

Ask yourself where else you could hit a 5 year old child 336 times in the head over the course of a few months without being arrested and jailed?

Is it really okay just because it's football?

Does that truly justify that amount of head impacts to a 5 year old child?

Wouldn't we call that abuse if it was happening in the Boy Scouts or any organization other than Pop Warner?

Should it be happening at all?

In service of whom and for what?

Football? Glory? Masculinity? Manhood? America? Pride? Militarism?

All of the above?

Article:

"I can’t blame anybody for my death. I made the choice to play football. I made the choice to walk through the concussions. I could have stopped. I could have said, my head hurts. It was my choice, as a man."

But who told you that playing through permanent brain injuries is what makes you a man?

Can't we blame that person?

Your father and your coaches from youth, high school, college all the way to the pros?

Militaristic views of masculinity kills boys and young men for the game of football.

It's a militaristic war game that simulates combat yet kills people in slow motion for real.

The violence suffered by players in football is as celebrated as militaristic ideals of what soldiers suffer through in war: valor, courage under fire, physical courage, endurance, stoically fighting through unimaginable injuries & pain, the quarterback heroically leading his squad as their captain marching his troops down the field to victory just like any military commander complete with a chevron like system that awards stars for each year or season of service very similar to how stripes function in the military.

This militaristic ideal of masculinity is endlessly promoted, encouraged, rewarded and valorized in football just as it is in the military.

Football is Americas killing fields.

High school players — teenaged boys, not adult men — die every year playing football.

Over a million boys play high school football each year and only a handful die or suffer permanent, disabling and/or catastrophic injury.

Would you be so glib about the numbers though if it was your son or your brother or your boyfriend or your best friend who died playing high school football?

What if they were permanently paralyzed from the neck down playing college football?

It's easy to treat the above numbers as a statistic or rounding error when you can close out of the Facebook support page for the now dead or disabled high school or college player and get ready for Chiefs/Ravens next month.

What if you couldn't just X out of the Facebook page because you had to quit your job to take care of your disabled son for the rest of your life?

Or what if your brother killed himself from having CTE from playing college football?

The reality is, we can drop a "sad crying" emoji on a Facebook status and move on — the families of the young boys and men sacrificed to this sport definitely can't.

Go ask Tyler Sash's mom if she's "moved on".

Hasn't science proven at this point that tackle football just doesnt work the way it is currently played?

Why are we okay risking future Junior Seaus, Mike Websters, Justin Strelczyks, Phillip Adams, Tyler Hillinskis with every boy and young man that straps on the pads and helmet and charges on to the field?

Is it 10% of players that get CTE? Is it 20%?

Is it more? Is it half?

More than half?

The truth is we wont know until a CTE test is developed for living players.

Pop Warners Chief Medical Director is working with the FDA to develop the test as I type this.

Why do you think that is?

The NFL's own study funded through a university admits that NFL players are 19 times more likely than non-NFL players to develop neurological conditions and disorders.

19 times!!!!!

As long as its not your brain getting scrambled right?

And you can just sit there and watch the leagues reigning back to back MVP and reigning Super Bowl Champ slowly deteriorate their minds while accumulating permanent brain damage for your entertainment.

Pass the chips.

Article:

"We consider football a gladiator sport because we understand you’re going to get hurt. You’re putting your life on the line.

You might not die now, like in an old Roman arena, but 5, 10 years down the road, you could. You know that.

I wouldn’t change anything.

During my career, I kept my mouth shut. This now, speaking out, it’s about telling you my life. There’s no agenda, no vendetta. This is what football’s really like.

The first warning is the first meeting you have with an agent, when you realize this is real. My choices count at this point. I’m going to be prostituting myself for the next 18 years of my life.

That’s the first warning.

The next one is that good old combine.

That’s when you realize, when you march in that room half naked, I’m a number now."

No, thats when you realize that the NFL is MODERN DAY SLAVERY.

It's a modern day meat market.

6% of the US population is Black male. 75% of the NFL is Black.

0% of the owners are Black. Only 2 out of 32 coaches are Black.

Almost all of the NFL owners are white with very few exceptions and exactly none of them are Black.

The NFL is a modern day plantation.

Article:

"I loved New York. I loved playing there. I loved the spotlight. I was fine in New York, but I also played for Eric Mangini. We started 8-3, Brett Favre, all of that. Everybody told Mangini, stop with the long practices, you’re killing us. You practice too hard. We’re on turf."

36% of all injuries that occur in the NFL are due to turf & 1/4 of all concussions are a result of players heads slamming against turf.

So...

Why won't the NFL replace turf with grass in their stadiums as the NFLPA has been asking for for years?

Because they're cheap as hell and would rather injure their own investments then pay for grass.

The owners & the league have the same exact disregard and disdain for their own players.

The NFL has agreed to switch out turf for grass for the World Cup because the soccer players refused to do what NFL players are forced to — fuck their bodies up on turf.

It proves the NFL and owners could do it and, in fact, they did do it so they could host the World Cup in their football stadium — unless it's actually for the players in their own league.

In that case, you're shit out of luck.

Should have played soccer.

Article:

"What you hear from guys like Ray Lewis, James Harrison, what they’re saying is we’re well aware what we’re signing up for. The violence, we love it. The madness, we love it. We love measuring ourselves in it.

Those guys express themselves with their pads. You soften the game, you’re taking away their freedom of expression. Nobody wants to see flag football, and now, you might as well give guys flags, tell them to hug afterward, all that."

Did he even read the beginning of his own article???

Constant cognitive dissonance is the distillation & essence of tackle football — by the players, the audience, coaches, trainers, medical personnel, announce team, play by play, color, pre-game & post-game hosts, team & network journalists.

I see no repetitive head impacts causing CTE.

I hear no repetitive head impacts causing CTE.

I speak no repetitive head impacts causing CTE.

Article:

"The violence is what I remember. Like against Buffalo in 2009, when I had the game of my career. Or the time I slapped a lineman out of the way in Houston with one arm. Winning, the physical part, the mayhem, finding the line between insanity and sanity, that’s the exact reason why you play. That’s the reason fans like football in the first place.

A guy like James Harrison, he’s possessed, and that’s the guy you love to play with, love to watch. He doesn’t need to be babied."

Protection from permanent brain damage & trauma, fans bloodlust, coaches unreasonable demands, neurological disorders & conditions, neurological symptoms including suicidality, depression, memory loss, confusion, irritability, volatility, aggression, amnesia, mental incapicitation, deteroriation & decline is being "babied"??????????

Article:

"The N.F.L. is too big to fail. If that happened, it would be a slow death. It’s still the ultimate game. For us, it’s like legal prison rules. You have to protect your manhood, your well-being. You’re going to be challenged. You’re going to be tested."

"You have to protect your manhood."

Protect The Shield.

Brainwashed into the cult of American masculinity.

Just like all the other 2.6 million young boys & adolescents playing youth football.

Another million playing in high school.

100k playing in NCAA college football.

1600 play in the NFL.

All brainwashed into the cult of masculinity.

Millions of young boys and teenagers sacrificed on the altar of tackle football, Americas true religion.

Article:

"There aren’t too many places a 400-pound guy with an attitude can go and beat the crap out of somebody and not get locked up for it. I have a violent streak. I have to fight it out of my system. We signed up for it. All of it. We’re not trying to be sane or rational."

What does an 8 year old playing tackle football for Pop Warner sign up for?

Tradition, rigid authoritarianism, toxic masculinity, ideals of manhood worth sacrificing your body, mind, memories, personality, self and literal life for.

A 13 year old football player committed suicide after an egregious hit and post concussion symptoms that lasted for over a year in 2018.

He played through the hit and practiced in pads the very next day — think that might have made his concussion worse?

Prior to the hit, he was a straight A student, a voracious reader, erudite, sociable & well-liked.

After the hit, he became withdrawn.

He lost vision in one eye. He lost his balance frequently.

He was unable to read for more than a few minutes at a time.

He started tackle football at 9.

He played two ways as a linebacker and running back and was known as a ferocious hitter who never complained of pain.

He attempted suicide, was hospitalized, seemed to be improving, then the second suicide attempt was tragically successful.

Dead at 13 for the sport of football.

When is enough enough?

Football is a game, it's a magical talisman, it's a sport, it's a crucible, it's a maker of men, it's the distillation of manhood and masculinity, it's what being a man is.

It's worth bashing and battering your brains repeatedly.

It's worth your mind.

It's worth not knowing who you are at 50.

It's worth you committing suicide.

Just remember to shoot yourself in the chest so your brain can be donated and studied.