#complex concussion

[concussionspot]

Recognizing and Managing Different Types of Concussion

Types of concussion infographic provides a clear breakdown of each type, their symptoms, recovery timelines, and recommended treatment options. A valuable resource for athletes, parents, and healthcare professionals to recognize and manage head injuries effectively.

[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.

[starlight-lesbians]

idk i think greaseball is dumb not because she misspelled one word, but just because of like Every Single Choice she makes up until she apologizes to Dinah

like taking her girlfriend for granted? dumb. trying to sabotage rusty instead of relying on her own ability? stupidddd! generally acting like an bully? dumb dumb

and like i’ve written about her numerous complexes multiple times, i get it, however she’s still dumb for that (/mostly affectionate)

i love her and can make fun of her a little bit i think. greaseball was kind of always written as kind of a meathead jock but i think in later versions they’ve done a good job giving him/her some more depth.

they made gb more sympathetic over time too which is nice, if you wanna redeem a character you kinda have to make them likable to an extent

idk yall she’s my favorite girlfailure at the end of the day.

[dazednstoned]

The theory that Dutch went “crazy” bc of his head injury on the trolley doesn't really hold up. I say this as someone who has endured multiple life-altering head injuries. To change someone's personality like people claim it did Dutch's, it would have to be an incredibly severe injury, not just a minor concussion.

I can think of one medical case where this occurred to such an extent. It was Phineas Gage where his personality changed completely. And guess what caused it? An iron rod went all the way through his head. So, the likelihood of Dutch's minor head injury being the cause of his behavior in ch4-6 is very low.

Personally, I think it's as simple as Dutch was a manipulator, knowingly or not. And when John and Arthur were slipping away his tactics of manipulation fell through, hence his change in behavior.

[angelaslavendergirls]

It’s lowkey kinda crazy that trixie and Katya love each other on a level we can barely comprehend and it’s real

[sag-dab-sar]

Does anyone else have cycling interests?

Like super focused on a specific show for a month, then classic music for a month, then aviation for a month, then true crime for a month. (Or one week or a few months etc). Sometime my brain is super invested in for a very long time, many years, like 9/11 or WWII or Sims, but my brain doesn't (or I guess can't) focus on them when one of the random one shows up.

And my brain goes back to some of them later for another cycle of it being main focus; then brain eventually moves onto another thing. And importantly to this— I'm rarely focused on more than 2. Sometimes its like 2 and a half at most. But I'm intensely interested in The Thing while in that "cycle." And the half being minor interest in another thing especially like a transition from one cycle to the next, or a random sprinkle of some other interest like one documentary. And sometimes my brain is frazzled and can't focus on any topic (which is stressful).

I feel like I'm just a weirdo and talking about the random thing I'm interested in for a month and it is annoying even though I wanna blab and blab and blab about it for hours.

edit: ​Also my day dreaming/writing almost ALWAYS relates to the interest of that cycle and I decide if its canon when the cycle ends. The amount of non-canon because of it lol.

[pine-arten]

happy disability pride month. they have things wrong with them

feel free to ask questions abt my ocs <3 i would love to talk about them

[minarcana]

hear me out, i think warriors should be viewed as kind of like weird tank cryptids. other tanks, like paladin and dark knight, right? they have actual visible things that exist they use to protect themselves. they have a shield or drk magic. that is a reasonable explanation as to why they can take hits. warriors are out here with zero defensive items or magic, they are just going hog wild with an axe and seemingly completely unperturbed by having no defenses. their wounds heal themselves so long as theyre covered in blood. canonically warriors have high defense because they just refuse to believe they can die. gorge in the first war quest chunk jumps on a bomb and is barely harmed because he simply was more worried about other things.

other tanks and adventurers will be like "yeah i have a shield/potions/healing magic to keep me safe what do you have" and a warrior just goes "well i just decide nothing can hurt me, and then it doesnt :)" and somehow that actually works. fucked up weird cryptid people.

[neocaridinas]

I wish you the best in recovery from Concussion

thank you 🙏🙏 big silly head trauma moments

[dawnrider]

The number of fictional characters out there who would be walking around with CTE is ridiculous. All in the name of drama...

Being knocked out for more than 5 minutes means very serious brain damage but humans not having a turn-off button would do immense damage to our collective storytelling. So many films and books and videogames just wouldn't happen if writers stopped bonking their characters on the head. Insane.

[tsuzukerukoto]

👤 + junko!

@anticutes Send me 👤+ a character name for my muse’s opinion on that character

“ Enoshima Junko… Huh.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her for what she did. The lives she took won’t ever return... All because she just wanted despair, because she was bored, she stole everything from us. I'll never forget that. I can't. I won't. Everything that happened in that school is seared into the back of my eyes... And I'm going to carry it for the rest of my life. ...Even so, even then... When I look back on that year, I don’t think that it was a lie. I don’t know exactly how long she was planning what happened to us, to the world. But I can't just look back on the time our whole class spent together and think of it as fake. It was real. ... Like I feel towards everyone else in Class 78... I don't regret meeting her.

…I should have done something more. Back then, I should have moved to stop her. Dying isn't something that saves anyone. "

[battleangel]

NFL Machine: 2023 to 2024 False Narratives

While the young players in tonight's draft will be full of excitement and hope, the promise of a boyhood dream on the cusp of being fulfilled, a literal lifetime of sacrifice, blood, sweat and tears finally culminating in the dream of playing in the NFL, walking across that stage, shaking Roger Goodell's hand, putting on that team jersey with their name on the back and putting on their team hat, smiling for the cameras, their childhood dream coming true...

The fact of the matter is, a lot of these same men once they have exited the league, the majority of whom will do so within 3 years, and even the Pro Bowlers who play an average of 12 seasons, may not be smiling in 10 to 15 years after their playing career is over as that is typically where neurological symptoms of diseases like CTE, early-onset dementia, Parkinson's, ALS and Alzheimer's begin to surface from repetitive head trauma caused by subconcussive hits.

Not concussions -- the hundreds of thousands of subconcussive hits these men endure during spring training, training camps, practices, drills, scrimmages and games from Pop Warner in their youth, to high school and college as young men all the way to the professional level in the NFL.

While positions vary, and linemen, linebackers and running backs obviously take more hits than a quarterback or wide receiver, the fact is that every single person that plays the sport of tackle football is required to block and tackle and plays are only blown dead by a whistle if you take the ball carrier to the ground and physically stop their forward progress. You could also force a fumble, intercept a pass, the QB could slide or run out of bounds or throw the ball away -- but the inherent nature of football, unlike its predecessor rugby, is that every single square inch must be fought for and defended. Naturally, that results in some type of contact on nearly every play.

The majority of concussions at the NON-professional level -- UNpaid WITHOUT health insurance -- in high school and college occur during practice which means they are entirely preventable but still to this day only the Ivy League conference and one other university has removed hitting from their practices.

That is a lot of hits and they do add up and they do take their toll later on.

While not every football player develops a neurological disorder from playing football, and while there is an obvious selection bias in the brains autopsied for CTE by Dr. McKee as those players were already exhibiting symptoms or else they would not have had their brains donated to be tested in the first place, there has been a link proven at this point by Dr. Bennet Omalu and Dr. McKee that repetitive subconcussive head trauma absolutely can cause CTE and that every year of playing tackle football adds to the risk.

That is irrefutable at this point.

What we don't know is why some players develop neurological disorders and others don't -- but it isn't a question anymore that the more subconcussive hits a player endures, the more likely it is that they will be diagnosed later with a degenerative neurological disorder.

There is no test currently that can diagnose CTE in a living person as it can only be confirmed via autopsy posthumously.

So, we don't have a definitive way of knowing who does and doesn't have CTE until that individual dies and an autopsy is performed specifically looking for the tau proteins that form in individuals with CTE.

So, the link has been proven and the risk is there -- what we don't yet know is how many tackle football players have CTE?

All linemen? Most linebackers? Most runningbacks? Quarterbacks who take a lot of sacks? Other position players who play for more than a decade? NFL and college players who start tackle football between 5 and 8 years old versus waiting until high school?

While we won't know the prevalence of CTE until a test for living players is developed, we certainly know the risks, and instead of the NFL doing something to mitigate that risk, they have their team doctors lying to Tua and telling him that quarterbacks don't develop CTE, it is more a thing that happens to linemen and runningbacks when Miami's own former quarterback, Morrell, the back up to Griese during Miami's famed undefeated 1972 season literally died with the most advanced form of CTE, Stage IV.

And while Morrell played during an era where quarterbacks were unprotected by the rules, there have been college quarterbacks diagnosed with CTE, so for the team doctor to tell Tua when he was contemplating retirement that he has nothing to worry about because he is a quarterback and CTE isn't seen amongst players in the position he plays is an audacious lie.

With the NFL draft being tonight, I wanted to share a document that I put together of last year's season (2023 to 2024) where I documented in NFL games I watched any hits that seemed to lead to a concussion where the player either wasn't evaluated or passed the protocol too quickly or where the player was temporarily removed from play only to re-enter the game later or where the player finished the game only to report concussion symptoms after the game or in the following days to the team's facility.

I also notated where the announcers explicitly took place in creating false narratives for the viewer and I will include clips and/or images of the hits I am referencing when I have them.

Specifically, the announcers would either gloss over egregious, sometimes helmet to helmet hits, or there were times I saw a player collapse (Amazon Prime Black Friday game) and even having seizures (Cowboys game late season) and we were never provided with an update by the announcers and, in the latter case, the announcers never even mentioned that the Cowboys player was visibly seizing on the field (I tried to find footage of the hit on Youtube, Twitter & Reddit and was unable to).

In this post, what you will see is that the NFL is a machine that is constantly propagandizing both its viewers and players through the announce team, play by play and color commentating, as well as pre-game shows like Game Day Morning (NFL Network) and Sunday Morning Countdown (ESPN) by either minimizing, justifying, glossing over and/or glamorizing the violence on the field.

You will also see teams continuously lying about player injuries, especially concussions, dishonestly claiming after the game that a player had a knee injury when he clearly lowered his helmet to deliver the hit then promptly proceeded to collapse on the field (Amazon Prime Black Friday game) yet Miami stated the player had a "knee injury" after the game.

There are many, many other examples like this which should remind you of Miami lying two seasons ago that Tua had a "back injury" when he clearly had suffered a concussion as he was wobbly (classic ataxia symptoms) and struggled to get up and had to have multiple players assist him just to stand yet he still finished that game against the Buffalo Bills.

2023 to 2024 False NFL Narratives 11/24/2023 - Dolphins vs Jets On October 23rd, 2023, Jevon Holland fell to turf after colliding with fellow Dolphins defender vs Eagles.

He was on the turf for several minutes then evaluated in the lockerroom for a concussion by the UNC (unafilliated neurological consultant) and he cleared the test and was put back in the game.

The next morning (Monday), Coach Josh McDaniels confirmed that Holland had reported concussion symptoms and had been entered into the concussion protocol. He cleared the protocol a week later on November 1st and rejoined the secondary.

Tonight, approximately one month after Holland sustained a concussion against the Eagles, during the inaugural Black Friday game on Amazon Prime on November 24th, late in the 4th quarter, Holland lowered his helmet to deliver a tackle and immediately collapsed to the turf.

Earlier in the game, Holland had had a 99 yard pick 6 touchdown.

The broadcast stepped away to a commercial break directly after the above hit occurred and, when they returned, there was no update on Holland as they displayed a graphic on screen displaying the current AFC playoff picture and returned to the in-game action without providing commentary on Jevon Holland, who we had just seen collapse to the turf after lowering his helmet and delivering a hit just prior to the break.

The game concluded, and while Al Michaels & Kirk Hebstreit commented on Hollands incredible 99 yard pick 6, they never provided an update on how Holland was doing, if he had been evaluated for a concussion or if he had been ruled out of the game with a concussion.

In other words, the announce team acted like Holland had never collapsed to the field after lowering his helmet to deliver a hit.

As the game concluded, Al mentioned that the sideline reporter would be interviewing Jevon Holland about his 99 yard pick 6.

Holland was lucid, clear eyed and seemed 100% in control of his faculties.

There was no mention of him lowering his helmet earlier to deliver the tackle that left him collapsed and lying motionless on the turf.

Miami Dolphins claimed after the game that Jevon Holland had injured his knee, but during the broadcast of the game, a slow motion replay clearly showed that Holland lowered his helmet to deliver a tackle then he collapsed to the turf afterwards.

This is eerily similar to when Tua Tugavoila, Miami Dolphins QB, fell to the turf after a hard hit vs Buffalo Bills on a Sunday afternoon game two seasons ago, and had difficulty getting up, was visibly wobbly, stumbled, and had to be assisted up by several Dolphins players.

It was reported by Miami during the game at halftime that Tua had suffered a "back injury" and that he had experienced "back spasms" that made it difficult for him to walk when very clearly Tua had displayed concussion symptoms after being hit which included ataxia, a loss of motor control/instability.

Despite how obvious this was during the broadcast, Tua was never evaluated for a concussion and Miami Coach McDaniels defended the lack of even evaluating Tua for a concussion in the press conference after the game.

Four days later, Tua and the Dolphins faced the Bengals on Thursday Night Football at Paycor Stadium.

Tua sustained another very hard hit and slammed his helmet against the turf and immediately went into a fencing response.

He was put on a board and immediately ruled out of the game and taken to a local hospital where he was diagnosed with a concussion.

The Amazon Prime broadcast did mention that the head impact Tua clearly appeared to sustain on four days prior on Sundays game against the Bills which he then went unevaluated for and played through and there was additional speculation whether both head impacts occuring in four days could have led to Tuas fencing response with the hit he sustained during that current nights game against the Bengals.

After sustaining his second concussion in four days against the Bengals on Thursday Night Football and exhibiting a fencing response, a few weeks later, Tua received another very hard hit and he appeared to be concussed but he was unbelievably never evaluated.

Tuas QBR prior to the hit was over 100, his QBR after the hit was under 60.

Tua admitted after the game that he couldnt remember any of the plays he had just called during the game.

Despite all this, Tua was never evaluated for a concussion or ruled out of the game despite suffering a serious concussion a few weeks earlier vs the Bengals that led to a fencing response and him being evaluated at a hospital only four days after sustaining a hard hit Sunday vs the Bills which resulting in Tua stumbling and having to be helped to his feet by several fellow Dolphins for which he was never evaulated for nor removed from the game.

Still no concussion evaluation during the game although Tua admitted after the game he couldnt remember any of the plays he had just called during the game and his QBR in the game was over 100 prior to the hit and under 60 after the hit. And he had already suffered two concussions in four days just a few weeks prior to this game.

Still no concussion evaluation.

The next day, on Good Morning Football on the NFL Network, the hosts announced that Tua had reported concussion symptoms that morning when he reported into the team facility.

Tua was diagnosed with a concussion, placed on Injured Reserve, and ruled out for the rest of the season.

Even with all of this occurring to Miamis quarterback just last season, even with Jevon Holland falling to the turf after colliding with a fellow Dolphin on October 23rd vs the Eagles and lying on the turf for several minutes motionless and even after Holland was evaluated for a concussion in the lockerroom then allowed to return to play in that same game, even after Holland reported concussion symptoms the very next morning to Miamis training staff (just like Tua did last season) and they ruled him out with a concussion for a week, even after they cleared Holland on November 1st and Holland returned to play, even when Holland lowered his head approximately a month after sustaining the concussion against the Eagles on Amazon Prime's Black Friday game to deliver a tackle which once again left him motionless on the turf, Holland was still not evaluated for a concussion and he was instead incorrectly diagnosed after the game with a "knee" injury.

This is a systemic problem with the Miami Dolphins, their head coach Josh McDaniels, their training staff, the unaffiliated neurotrauma consultants (UNC) and independent spotters -- they have all failed.

Did the NFLPA, the players union, step in on Holland's behalf and intercede as they did with Tua the season prior which led to the "Tua rule" and ataxia being added to the list of "no-go" symptoms in the NFL's concussion protocol that if exhibited automatically removes a player from the game? You know the answer to that because unless you are a Dolphins fan, you have no idea who Holland is.

Miami is reckless with their players health and we have seen this play out multiple times now in back to back seasons.

Will the NFL do anything?

Will the NFLs top medical director say anything? Last season, the NFLs top medical director did admit that Tua "did not look like" he sustained a back injury.

Okay -- thats it?

No fines, suspensions, warnings or loss of draft picks for Miami's head coach and their trainers?

The UNC that cleared Tua last season and cleared Holland in October -- why havent they been fired?

The independent spotters that missed Tuas concussion last season and Hollands concussion last month should be fired.

Who protects these men from themselves AND their coaches, trainers, independent spotters, unaffiliated neurotrauma consultants, Roger Goodell, the NFL machine and the purposely oblivious fans and often neutered and ineffective NFL Players Association?

11/30/23 - Dallas vs Seattle On November 30, 2023, Dallas played Seattle on Amazon Prime Thursday Night Football.

During the third quarter, Tony Ferguson (#87, Tight End) caught a pass from Dak Prescott on the 5 yard line and Quandre Diggs (#6, Safety) hit him helmet to helmet.

It was an egregrious hit that Al Michaels commented on the broadcast.

However, there was no flag.

This is extraordinary given that Seattle & Dallas were the two most penalized teams as of that current season in the NFL.

Carissa Thompson even said during halftime that the laundry was flying like crazy.

Additionally, Bobby Wagner (#54, Linebacker) was called for pass interference for defending a pass to Tony Pollard that was nowhere even close to DPI.

Literally, even the Amazon Prime broadcast stated there was nothing there and it wasnt pass interference.

So, an egregious gratuitious helmet to helmet hit -- let 'em play!

But for the crime of playing defense, Wagner gets hit with DPI.

One of those plays -- helmet to helmet hits -- causes concussions and permanent brain damage and was supposed to be legislated out of the sport.

Pass interference doesnt cause the players' jelly and egg yolk-like unprotected brains to move around violently and rupture against the inside of their sharp and bony skulls.

Yet pass interference is what gets the yellow flag and what gets penalized.

Permanent irreversible and preventable brain damage is nbd.

11/9/23 - Panthers vs Bears Hayden Hurst (TE, Carolina Panthers) suffered an extremely hard yet legal hit from Jaquan Brisker vs the Bears on 11/9/23 that caused Post Traumatic Amnesia.

Hayden Hurst's father tweeted the following on 12/6/23: "@haydenrhurst has been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Amnesia by an independent neurologist as a result of the hit he took in Chicago November 9. Slow recovery, don’t know when he’ll be back. Prayers appreciated!"

Per the above linked video, the hit was hard but perfectly legal. There is no way to legislate hits like this out of the game without removing tackling.

Post Traumatic Amnesia has happened in an NFL game before, even if it wasn't diagnosed as such at the time.

Troy Aikman still to this day does not remember winning an NFC Championship Game for the Cowboys in the mid 90s.

He was concussed so hard that when he arrived at the hospital after the game, he asked if the Cowboys had won the game.

Aikman says to this day, he watches the game back, but he doesnt remember himself playing in it while literally watching himself play.

Joe Burrow told Colin Cowherd on The Volume podcast during the 2022 to 2023 season that there are entire quarters and halves in college games he played that he doesnt remember due to extremely hard hits that happened during the course of those games.

Burrow claimed that he was strictly talking about his LSU days and that this hadn't happened to him in the NFL.

Cowherd replied that he wasnt surprised and that Drew Bledsoe and Trent Dilfer had personally told him in the past there were entire games they couldnt remember due to how hard they had been hit.

Cowherd said it may be a part of the game fans dont typically know about but he agreed with Burrow that it was extremely common.

Is this level of violence acceptable?

Hurst now has anterograde (post traumatic) amnesia not from a car accident or an explosion in a war or a physical assault but from the sport of football itself.

Unbelievably, the Panthers have confirmed that Hurst is already back at practice as of 12/6/23 and Hurst advised that, far from the hit being career ending as many observers and journalists rightfully wondered, that he would be "back in a week or two" but not before confirming he still has 4 hours of memory from the game when he was hit (11/9/23) that he doesnt recall at all -- aka he is still suffering from the effects of anterograde (post traumatic) amnesia.

I realize some people never regain their memories of the lost time -- but should he already be jumping back in with the live bullets less than a month later in padded practice?

It hasnt even been a month and hes already back at practice and Hurst says he may play next week!

That is totally reckless.

It unbelievably gets worse -- Hurst was not removed from the game after receiving the hit from Brisker that later caused the anterograde (post-traumatic) amnesia and returned to play the rest of the game on 11/9/23.

Per the Panthers, Hurst didnt enter the concussion protocol until the next day after the game (11/10/23).

So, how many more hits did an already concussed Hurst suffer when he returned to play after the Brisker hit?

Could there have been a second concussion?

Once you are concussed, it takes much less head impact to sustain a second concussion.

When Hurst reported concussion symptoms the next day at the team's training facility and the Panthers entered him into the concussion protocol, is it possible that unbeknownst to himself and the training staff, that he could have been reporting symptoms for two concussions?

Since Hurst was irresponsibly allowed to return to the game and continue playing after the Brisker hit, we will never know.

From ESPN.com on 12/7/23: Hurst entered the protocol during the Thursday night game after taking a hit that caused his head to hit the ground. He re-entered the game and wasn't placed into the protocol until the next day.

He later was told by the independent neurologist that he was suffering from post-traumatic amnesia.

"That's what I was told by the neurologist but sounds way worse," Hayden said.

Post-traumatic amnesia, according to the Cleveland Clinic, is amnesia that develops after an injury. It can involve multiple forms of amnesia. It can invoke confusion and frustration in those impacted because they have difficulty remembering where they are, how they got there or any new information since the injury.

"I'm doing better each day," Hurst wrote ESPN on Thursday in a text message. "It's not going to end my career, just being cautious as I come back. Should be another week or two."

"I appreciate everyone reaching out & checking on me. I suffered a pretty nasty concussion against the Bears a few weeks ago & don't remember up to 4 hours after the game. Scary situation but the Panthers have been incredible walking me through this process," he wrote on X.

He added in a follow-up post: "While it was scary, it is NOT career ending. I'm starting my return to play this week, so fingers crossed I make it back for the last few weeks! God Bless & Keep Pounding !!!!"

Keep pounding???

12/11/23 - Texans vs Jets On 12/11/23, CJ Stroud (QB - Texans - Offensive Rookie of the Year) slammed the back of his head against the turf at MetLife Stadium and was entered into the concussion protocol and was removed from the game.

It is well documented at this point that 1/4 of all concussions occur from the players heads slamming against the turf - 1/4!

25% of all concussions in football, permanent brain damage, are caused by the players heads slamming against the turf!

Replace all turf in all NFL stadiums with grass!

Soccer players have refused to play on turf in the World Cup so they are switching the turf out for grass then literally switching it right back to turf for NFL players -- how wrong is that?!

The owners have the money and, as has been proven, for the World Cup they can and will remove the turf and replace it with real grass.

They just dont give a damn about players in their own league!

The NFL Players Association has tried to get turf replaced with grass in their CBAs to no avail.

On top of the unnecessary permanent brain damage, it has also been proven that 36% more injuries happen on turf vs grass.

Cleats get caught. Players get caught.

They slip and slide.

Tendons and ligaments tear.

And the NFL owners dont give a damn.

So, the injuries and permanent brain damage continue.

Additionally, the Texans coach was asked post-game if CJ Stroud would be playing next Sunday.

He had just been concussed that same night, removed from the game & entered into the concussion protocol and the coach was already being asked if Stroud would be playing in exactly one week.

Its disgusting, infuriating & fucking terrifying that this decision is left to individual team trainers, coaches & UNC (independent neurotrauma consultants).

NFL has NO mandatory time off after a concussion -- the only professional American sport that doesnt have a mandatory sit out time period for a concussion like the NBA, MLB, MLS, NHL, UFC & boxing all do -- all you have to do is "clear the protocol" and you can be back at a padded practice a few days later Wednesday then playing in a game Sunday.

For that to be happening with everything we know about CTE is terrifying, infuriating, disgusting, inhumane, fucking reckless, disingenuous and a fucking slap in the face to every player who has died from CTE, who has committed suicide, who has harmed themselves, their families, their friends, their neighbors & strangers.

Week 11 - 12/4/23 On 12/4/23, a week  prior to the hit that caused the concussion on 12/11/23, CJ Stroud suffered a hard hit against the Denver Broncos.

Two concussions in one week but this one was undiagnosed yet clear as day from watching the broadcast.

He needed help from teammates to get back to his feet and he appeared wobbly afterwards.

Stroud wasnt checked for a concussion and played out the duration of the game.

During another play against the Broncos in the same game on 12/4/23, Stroud briefly rolled his eyes to the back of his head, closed them for a few seconds then appeared unsteady once he stood back up.

Although none of the Texans trainers or independent spotters reacted to this, one of the refs motioned a Texans trainer over to check on Stroud.

The trainer checked Stroud on the sideline then he was immediately put back in the game.

The following Sunday (12/11/23) vs the Jets, Stroud suffered an extremely hard late hit from Quinnen Williams. The back of his head slammed against the MetLife turf and he laid on the field for several seconds before being ruled out with a concussion.

Week 13 is coming up this weekend and Houston has a chance to make the playoffs.

Although Stroud was entered into the NFLs concussion protocol Sunday (12/11/23), it appeared given Stroud seemingly briefly losing consciousness, appearing wobbly and needing two teammates to help him to his feet the previous week against the Broncos on 12/4/23, that Stroud suffered concussions back to back two weeks in a row -- the one against the Jets on 12/11/23 was diagnosed and the one against the Broncos on 12/4/23 wasnt.

Stroud was also in MVP discussions leading up to Sundays (12/11/23) game vs the Jets and is on pace to potentially break some rookie records.

So, there was pressure for the Texans coach to start Stroud and not Mills or Keenum that Sunday against the Titans.

Thankfully, when asked if the Texans will play Stroud Sunday, the head coach said he is going to put Strouds health and career longevity above any "win now" demands.

However, many Texans fans disagreed with this and have stated online if Stroud clears the protocol, since the Texans havent ruled him out of Sundays game, if hes medically cleared then he should be out there as he obviously gives the Texans the best chance to win on Sunday and keeps their playoff hopes alive.

Here lies one of the existential dilemmas facing the NFL: why is this decision left up to the coaches?

Because the NFL is the only professional sport in America -- out of the NBA, MLB, MLS, NHL, UFC & professional boxing -- that doesnt mandate a specific time off period once an athlete sustains a concussion.

Literally, Stroud could have done a full padded practice three days later that Wednesday if his coach wasnt looking out for his well-being and cared more about keeping Houstons playoff chances alive then whether Stroud will be able to remember his own name in 25 years.

Stroud has been concussed two weeks in a row -- against Denver last Sunday (12/4/23) and this past Sunday against the Jets (12/11/23).

What would have happened if the Texans HC felt differently and Stroud played Sunday?

What if he lost consciousness again and sustained a third concussion in three weeks?

What if he died on the field from Second Impact Syndrome vs the Titans on Sunday and, unlike Damar Hamlin, what if he didnt come back?

Thats where tackle football is headed.

Flag football has been added to the 2028 Olympics.

NCAA has added flag football as a collegiate sport eligible for scholarships.

The Pro Bowl this season and last were flag with no tackling.

There is a sea change coming as the CTE test in living players will be available in 3 years max per Dr. Ann McKee, the famed CTE researcher at Boston University.

That CTE test, once available, is going to confirm CTE in almost all current NFL and many college and high school linemen, most linebackers and running backs, many tight ends and some quarterbacks, wide receivers and defensive backs.

This is all coming.

Its why the Pro Bowl game is now flag football.

If I know this, the NFL knows this.

Its why you keep seeing flag football commercials with female players with the NFL's biggest stars like George Kittle and Tua Tugavailoa.

The NFL knows its where the sport is going in 10 to 15 years so theyre gearing up for it now.

CTE test in living athletes will eliminate the NFL's feeder systems (high school & Pop Warner) because the lower level leagues will not be able to be insured once its revealed that the vast majority of linemen, linebackers as well as a sizable amount of running backs as well as some tight ends, quarterbacks, wide receivers and defensive backs who are currently playing have CTE.

CTE has been found in non-professional tackle football players at the high school level as young as 17.

The NFL knows tackle football is going away and will be replaced by flag.

So then why not implement some changes now before we get served a live death on Monday Night Football along with our Buffalo Wild Wings?

Eliminate kickoff and place the ball at the 35 yard line.

66% of all injuries occur during kickoff.

Eliminate QB sneaks and onside kicks.

Institute weight limits to get rid of lopsided matchups of 100+ pounds (tight ends vs linemen, etc.).

Replace artificial turf with grass as turf causes 25% of all concussions and 36% more injuries.

But the NFL wont do any of the above.

Just like CJ Stroud potentially getting concussed again had the Texans HC played him and possibly dying against the Titans, the NFL just doesnt care.

12/17/23 - Browns vs Bears During Week 15, on 12/17/23, the Browns played the Bears. Towards the end of the fourth quarter, Za'darius Smith (Browns, DE) accidentally collided helmet to helmet with fellow Browns defender Myles Garrett (Browns, DE).

It was an extremely hard hit and Smith laid on the turf motionless for several seconds afterwards then the broadcast cut away for an injury timeout.

When the broadcast resumed, we were informed by the announce team that Smith was in the blue medical tent.

This was towards the end of the game so no additional updates on Smith were provided.

I googled Smith the following day (Monday - 12/18/23) and here is the first link I saw: "Cleveland Browns defensive end Za’Darius Smith exited the win in the final moments against the Chicago Bears. Smith was injured when he collided with Myles Garrett on a stunt in the game’s closing seconds. Smith was blindsided and stayed on the field for quite a while before being moved to the medical tent. His injury wasn’t disclosed in the immediate aftermath of the game. The Browns cannot afford to lose Za’Darius Smith for multiple games. The team has lost over 15 players to injured reserve."

The Cleveland Browns wont tell you but I will -- the incredibly hard accidental hit to the head that Smith suffered when he collided with Garrett and collapsed motionlessly to the turf for several sustained moments before being taken to the blue medical tent was 100% a concussion.

The reason the Browns "didnt disclose" Smiths injury in the "immediate aftermath of the game" is because they know he was concussed but they have already lost 15 players to injured reserve, its December football and a very tight race in the AFC North heading into the end of the season so they dont want to enter Smith, their best rusher behind Garrett, into the concussion protocol.

Even though he should have been. Even though he was concussed.

12/17/23 - Cowboys vs Bills During Week 15 (12/17/23), the Cowboys played the Bills on Sunday Night Football.

Donovan Wilson (#6, Cowboys) is a safety for the Dallas Cowboys.

Wilson was injured during a play and the broadcast briefly showed him convulsing on the field right before a commercial break but commentary didnt say anything.

Wilson was removed from play and evaluated for a concussion then he returned to the game late in the second quarter.

I tried to find footage of Wilsons injury and subsequent convulsions on the turf but I could not find footage of Wilson going down and momentarily convulsing on the field on twitter, youtube or reddit.

At the end of the day, convulsing on the turf after a hard hit and then being evaluated for a concussion should be enough to get you ruled out of the game.

Instead, Wilson was evaluated for a concussion -- after convulsing on the turf for several sustained moments -- then returned to the game.

12/21/2023 - Rams vs Saints On Amazon Prime Thursday Night Football, the Rams faced the Saints on December 21, 2023.

After a hard tackle, the running back for the Rams, Kyren Williams' (#23), helmet popped off and a player landed very hard on him with his full weight.

Williams was slow to get up.

Williams was then shown entering the blue medical tent and the broadcast mentioned he was being checked out.

Kyren then almost immediately exited the tent and reentered the game.

There was no additional commentary regarding Williams' helmet popping off after the hard tackle, the player landing on him after, him being slow to get up, him being checked out in the blue medical tent then him immediately exiting the tent and then reentering the game.

Was Williams checked for a concussion in the blue medical tent?

Did Williams clear the concussion protocol that quickly?

It was a huge career defining game for Williams, after he had made several mistakes in the previous weeks game, as he scored a touchdown and had several big runs.

Williams was interviewed on the sidelines after the game as one of the key reasons for the Rams victory.

What hit? What blue medical tent? What concussion?

12/17/23 - Jaguars vs Ravens "Pederson said Lawrence suffered the concussion on a scramble up the middle with five minutes remaining in the Jaguars' 23-7 loss to Baltimore last Sunday (12/17/23).

Lawrence did not leave the game but completed only one of his seven pass attempts after that play."

This is proof that Lawrence was concussed!

Just like with Tua the season prior when he suffered his third concussion that season and, during the game, his QBR went from 100 to 60 yet he was never even evaluated for a concussion.

Lawrence didnt complete 6 out of 7 passes after the hit.

He was never checked for a concussion.

He never was checked for a concussion in the blue medical tent or on the sidelines.

Per Pederson, Lawrence self-reported symptoms after the game and it was immediately apparent that the concussion was sustained on the scramble up the middle.

Pederson said Lawrence self-reported symptoms after the game and was placed in the concussion protocol.

Lawrence did not practice that Wednesday or Thursday.

Lawrence cleared concussion protocol the following week exactly seven days after suffering his concussion and was cleared to play against the Buccaneers on 12/24/23.

12/31/23 - Bengals vs Chiefs "Pacheco was forced out of the game on Christmas Day due to the accidental blow he took to the head from a teammate as his helmet was knocked off and fell backward. The impact from the defender caused a nasty collision as the independent doctor ushered Pacheco off the field for further examination and was later ruled out for the rest of the day."

Pacheco cleared concussion protocol and played on New Years Eve against the Bengals on 12/31/23 than six days after the concussion he suffered on Christmas Day -- less than a week!

Pacheco cleared concussion protocol in six days!

That is ridiculous and absurd.

Unfortunately, the NFL's concussion protocol is five stages and each stage can be cleared in just one day.

So, technically, a player can actually clear concussion protocol in just five days.

That is a totally reckless, dangerous and insane concussion protocol!

There is no literal way that anyone can clear concussion protocol in less than a week and be recovered enough to play a violent and collision-filled sport like football with guaranteed head impacts, hits to the head, hard tackles and required blocking and tackling on every play that result in subconcussive head impacts.

1/7/24 - Saints vs Falcons During Week 18, on Sunday afternoon (1/7/24), the Saints were playing the Falcons in the last week of the regular season -- win or go home for both teams so there was a lot on the line.

Algiers (Falcons, Tight End) collided with Avante Taylor (Saints, Safety, #1) helmet to helmet.

Taylor dropped to the turf without body control and lay still for several moments.

Noone called timeout to check on him and the next play was about to start.

The independent spotter signalled for a timeout and pulled Taylor to check him in the blue medical tent.

Despite the high stakes in the game for both teams and the high adrenaline inherent in the "win and youre in" nature of football, the system worked as designed for once when the Saints' coach and trainers did not call for an injury timeout but the independent spotter did the right thing and called for a timeout. Thats why the spotters are there and why they are independent and unaffiliated from the team.

Later on in the same game (Week 18 - Saints vs Falcons, 1/7/24), Tyrann Matthieu (Saints, Safety) lowered his shoulder for a very hard hit against Drake London (Falcons, #5, WR).

This was a legal hit as Matthieu delivered it textbook style with a lowered shoulder but it was an extremely hard hit.

London was very shaken up after the hit.

London was never checked on the sidelines or in the blue medical tent but he most definitely should have been evaluated for a concussion.

The independent spotter who earlier in the same exact game did such an exemplary job signalling to the ref and calling timeout to check on Taylor even though his own teams coach and trainer neglected to do so was nowhere to be found to do the same for London who also needed to be evaluated for a head injury.

The hit by Matthieu to London occurred on 4th down so perhaps the thinking was, they're coming off the field anyway, he'll be okay once he can catch his breath on the sidelines.

You cant "catch your breath" from a concussion.

2023 NFC Wildcard Playoff Game - Rams vs Lions Matthew Stafford (QB, Rams) was tackled by Aidan Hutchinson (Lions) and then a second defender came in and hit Stafford very hard in the ribs then Stafford hit his head hard after falling to the turf during the 2023 NFC Wildcard Playoff game.

This is the picture that started this post.

Stafford immediately grimaced and was in obvious pain & discomfort.

Stafford was then shown on the sidelines being walked into the blue medical tent.

The broadcast mentioned Stafford looked hurt and Collinsworth added that Stafford had hit his head hard on the turf.

When the broadcast resumed, they replayed Stafford slamming his head against the turf.

It was clear that Stafford was concussed and seemed to exhibit a brief fencing response.

The broadcast showed Stafford walking into the blue medical tent holding his side.

The broadcast then announced that Stafford exited the blue medical tent as Nucua (WR, Rams) entered the tent to be evaluated.

After Nucua exited the medical tent, Tirico announced the UNC (unaffiliated neurotrauma consultant) called a medical timeout to ensure that Nucua (RB, Rams) had been evaluated -- this was the right action by the UNC as Nucua had been shown on the broadcast as slow to get up.

However, Stafford had been shown in a slow motion replay slamming his head very hard against the turf, after which he seemed to briefly exhibit a fencing response and Collinsworth commented during the replay how hard Stafford had hit his head against the turf -- if Collinsworth saw it and we in the audience saw it why didnt any of the UNC or independent spotters see it?

Why didnt the UNC or independent spotters call a medical timeout to ensure that Stafford had been evaluated for a concussion?

Because this was the Sunday Night game of Wildcard Playoff weekend and it was the most Hollywood-esque anticipated storyline -- each QB used to play for the opposing team in the matchup for the first time ever in playoff history -- Stafford played 12 seasons for the Lions, then they traded him to the Rams and the very next season, he won the Super Bowl with the Rams and this was his first time back playing against Detroit -- Goff had played multiple seasons with the Rams, the Rams traded him to the Lions, Goff then took the Lions to the playoffs -- so, stakes were high on both sides and the Lions had not won a playoff game since 1991 and the game was in Detroit. Eminem was there and did the intro for SNF. And exactly none of that meant that Stafford wasnt concussed, didnt briefly exhibit a fencing response and shouldnt have been evaluated for a concussion -- but he wasnt.

1/20/24 - Divisional Round - Niners vs Packers Deebo Samuel (WR, 49ers) suffered an extremely hard hit to the side of his helmet and he was very slow getting up.

There was an injury TO & commercial break.

Once the broadcast returned, Deebo Samuel got checked in the blue medical tent.

Deebo reentered and then left the game several times.

With 9:40 left in the 2nd quarter, Deebo was shown running into the lockerroom.

With 4:09 remaining in the second quarter, Erin Andrews reported that Deebo was questionable to return with a shoulder injury.

Erin also advised that Deebo had previously missed two games earlier in the season due to a shoulder injury.

However, the replay of the hit Deebo suffered clearly showed a helmet to helmet hit against him.

We then saw Deebos shoulder being examined on the sidelines and Erin Andrews advised that he had previously injured his shoulder earlier this season and missed some time.

Deebo was then shown in the lockeroom at halftime without his pads.

When the game resumed after halftime, we were advised that Deebo had undergone some xrays of his shoulder.

We then saw Deebo on the sidelines in a hoodie and Erin Andrews reported that Deebo was still questionable to return to the game.

Deebo did not return to the game.

Chris Rose advised during NFL Gameday Final that Deebo had been checked for a concussion during the game and was cleared before being removed from the game due to a shoulder injury.

Per replay of the hit, however, the head impact Deebo suffered was due to a hard hit to the side of his helmet where he was slow to get up.

This is is the same hit they also claim he hurt his shoulder on and the shoulder injury is why he was officially ruled out of the game.

I think Deebo also had a concussion from the hit by Greenlaw and they covered it up by saying he reinjured his shoulder.

In the same game, Tucker Craft (TE, Packers) was hit extremely hard by Dre Greenlaw (49ers) on the side of his helmet as he blocked for Jordan Love (QB, Packers).

Craft was shown on his knees holding his head and was very slow to get up.

There was an injury TO and the broadcast went to commercials.

Upon returning to the broadcast, Greg Olsen (color commentator) advised that Craft had been slow getting up prior to the commercial break and that he was on the sideline, getting his eye checked out and that he appeared to "just need to take a breath".

Kevin Burkhardt (play by play announcer) then quickly advised that Craft had actually just entered the blue medical tent and he was getting checked out.

1/20/24 - Divisional Round - Bills vs Chiefs Shakir (WR, #10, Bills) suffered an extremely hard hit where he was sandwiched between two defenders then hit very hard.

Tony Romo stated on the broadcast that he could "hear the hit all the way up in the broadcast booth".

Shakir was shown on the turf holding his head.

Romo then advised the broadcast would be stepping away and there was an injury timeout and the broadcast went to commercials. When the broadcast returned, Shakir was shown jogging on the sidelines and Nantz announced that Shakir was jogging into the lockerroom.

Tracy Wolfson then announced that Shakir was being evaluated for a shoulder injury.

It was an extremely hard hit and he was holding his head when he fell to the turf -- not his shoulder.

Shakir most likely had a concussion and, just like Deebo Samuel during the playoffs and Tyler Brate (Bucs, TE) the previous season, they lied and claimed it was a shoulder injury.

Just like Tua's "back injury"  the previous season vs the Bills on Sunday -- before he was concussed a second time four days later against the Bengals on Thursday Night Football -- undiagnosed concussion Thursday vs the Bills where he finished the game --  then a diagnosed concussion four days later against the Bengals where he exhibited a fencing response &  was stretchered off the field, right?

Shakir returned to the game in the 4th quarter with under 5 minutes to go.

In the same game, in the first quarter of Chiefs vs Bills, Mike Edwards (S, #21, Chiefs) took a hard hit and was very slow getting up.

It was then announced on the broadcast that he was evaluated for a concussion and that he was entered into the concussion protocol.

Edwards was then ruled out of the game with a concussion in the 2nd quarter with 8 minutes left. The concussion protocol worked correctly in this instance as Edwards never returned to play and was subsequently ruled out of the game.

However, later in the same game, the concussion protocol failed spectacularly again -- remember, it had already failed earlier in the game when Shakir (WR, Bills) was allowed back into the game with a clear concussion in the 4th quarter with less than 5 minutes to go.

Knox (#88, Bills) taken out of game to be checked. Hard hit, slow getting up.

L'Jarius Sneed (Chiefs) also was "a bit shaken up" on the same play as Knox (#88, Bills) per the broadcast but Sneed stayed in for the next play and he wasnt evaluated.

Tracy Wolfson then advised that Knox was checked in the blue tent for a head impact and she said it "remained to be seen"whether or not he would come back in to the game.

Nantz then interrupted  Wolfson and advised that Knox was already back in the game.

AFC Championship Game - 1/28/24 - Chiefs vs Ravens Mike Edwards (Chiefs, S, #21) slow to get up and walked to the sidelines.

The broadcast stated he had been knocked out of last week's game vs the Bills with a concussion as I notated within this document two pages up -- two concussions in 8 days!

NFC Championship Game - 1/28/24 - 49ers vs Lions Dre Greenlaw (49ers, 2nd Quarter) delivered an extremely hard hit and appeared to injure his shoulder.

Greenlaw struggled to get up from the field.

He limped off and then slumped down on the sidelines and was in significant pain.

He was surrounded by trainers who removed his helmet.

The broadcast mentioned that his shoulder appeared to take the brunt of the hit and that Greenlaw was receiving a lot of attention on the sidelines.

The broadcast then cut away to commercials.

Upon returning from commercials, the broadcast announced that they were concerned about Greenlaw and that Erin Andrews had an update on how he was doing.

Erin advised that Greenlaw suffered a stinger after the tackle on #87.

Andrews further advised that despite suffering a stinger, Greenlaw essentially ran out of the blue medical tent and the broadcast showed a slow mo of Greenlaw running to his teammates on the sidelines.

Andrews further commented that people say that when Greenlaw hits you, he runs right through you, and the broadcast replayed Greenlaws hit on the Lions player (#87). 

The broadcast then showed Greenlaw on the sidelines receiving a shoulder massage from a trainer while another trainer removed his jewelery. 

Greenlaw returned to the game in the same quarter (2nd quarter) with 7:45 remaining. 

After suffering a stinger that caused him to collapse and drop to one knee on the sidelines in agonizing pain, Greenlaw returned to the game within five minutes and was shown delivering hard hits. 

Greenlaw was in the blue medical tent for less than a minute. 

The broadcast then advised that Greenlaw was the 49ers enforcer.

What stinger?

Later on in the same game, Brock Purdy (QB, 49ers) was tackled by 3 Lions defenders. 

Purdy was shown crushed underneath the defender flat on his back on the turf, his helmet partially off as it was an incredibly hard hit. 

The announcer conceded that the Lions "probably got away" with not getting a RTP call and that the crowd had noticed it and reacted to the missed penalty. 

As the broadcast went to commercials, Brock Purdy was shown walking to the sidelines in slow motion with a bloody lip. 

The broadcast stated again that the Lions had gotten away with a missed penalty and Purdy had a "bloody lip and all".

After commercials, the announce booth asked Dean Blandino (rules analyst) if the refs missed a RTP penalty on the last drive.

They replayed the hit against Purdy and Blandino advised that Houston (#41, Lions), lowered his head after Purdy had been tackled to the ground with force. 

Blandino advised he believed that the refs missed the penalty and Houston (#41, Lions) should have been flagged for RTP.

Later on in the same game, McCaffrey (RB, 49ers) had a very physical run where he got within a few yards of the end zone. 

When he was tackled to the ground, he landed hard on his head. 

The broadcast showed him a bit slow to get up. 

The broadcast then mentioned that McCaffrey landed on his head on the last play and that that was probably why he headed to the sidelines because he "needed a break".

Did he need a break or did he have a concussion?

After the 49ers scored a touchdown, their sideline was shown celebrating while the stadium erupted. 

While McCaffreys teammates cheered, he was shown on the sideline with trainers working on his neck as he grimaced in pain. 

The broadcast did not mention this as the stadium and 49ers were still celebrating the touchdown and, instead, advised that the Lions would need to score soon as there were 3 minutes left in the game.

What neck injury? What concussion?

The NFL Draft: Exploited Dreams As is probably clear from the above, I won't be watching the draft tonight. I have previously written articles on my tumblr questioning why I continued to watch the NFL despite all of the violence, dehumanization, head trauma, permanent brain damage, unguaranteed contracts, exploitative players union and commodification of players as products to be consumed.

For the past 13 years, I have watched football every Sunday from 9 am (Gameday Morning) or 10 am (Sunday Morning Countdown), the 1 pm, 4 pm and 8 pm games and Gameday Final -- from 9 am or 10 am to 12:30 am every Sunday; Mondays, pre-game on ESPN, Monday Night Football then ESPN post-game -- 7 pm to 12:30 am and Thursdays pre-game on Amazon, Thursday Night Football then Amazon post game -- 6:30 pm to 12:30 am.

28 hours of football a week, every single week, and me and my husband -- the only reason I ever got into football as I hated it prior to meeting him -- would make a different dip every week which we would then watch all day while we watched all the games. It was definitely our couples routine.

That was 2011 when I started watching football with my husband and slowly became a fan of the physical courage, larger than life personalities, confidence, swag, charisma, courage, physicality, calm under pressure and the general hypnotic and quixotic thrilling allure of the game, the spectacle of it all, the violent chess game that required aggression and strategy all appealed to me.

But I could never get over the helmets crashing, violence, injuries and concussions.

I bought Nate Jackson's book, Slow Getting Up, in 2016 -- he is a former TE for the Denver Broncos -- and that started nearly a decade's worth of research which has involved reading thousands of academic, scholarly and scientific journal articles, books, blogs and studies and conversing with attorneys via email who have been involved in litigation against the NFL.

Despite being a huge Joe Burrow, Bengals and Eagles fan, the amount of research, and the limitless depths and levels to the NFL's deception and depravity have finally served to mostly turn me off from the NFL.

I have previously attended Eagles and Ravens games in person. I have a Joe Burrow t-shirt, orange and black beaded necklace, sunglasses and cat ears as well as Eagles t-shirts and Super Bowl shirts and I attended the Eagles parade live when they won the Super Bowl in 2018.

From all of the above, I have decided to minimize my interactions with the NFL.

Over 85% of players who have applied for payouts under the NFL's $765 million concussion settlement have been denied. That's not okay.

The race norming bias where the NFL assumed that Black players were less intelligent so if they didn't fail their neurological assessments spectularly, they were denied disability benefits. That's not okay.

It's a long list that as you can see from this post kept getting longer and I could no longer put up with the racism, exploitation, lies, denials, gaslighting, subterfuge, underhandedness of the NFL.

The NFL is too similar to Israel - who they staunchly support while they murder 35,000 Palestinian civilians in a genocide yet the NFL would only give a moment of silence to the Israeli civilians who lost their lives -- 4,000 to 35,000.

Do the math that the NFL refuses to do.

The NFL's treatment of Colin Kaepernick.

Goodell's disgusting statements on George Floyd.

The NFL's treatment of players who chose to kneel during the anthem as is their right per the first amendment.

The NFL's racist dog whistles to its mostly aging and white audience regarding Trump, Israel, zionism & Black Lives Matter.

Its a long list that only gets longer.

Their exploitation of Damar Hamlin.

I have decided to go from watching nearly 30 hours of NFL programming a week every week for 4 months to only watching Eagles vs Cowboys, Bengals vs Chiefs, Eagles MNF & SNF games, Bengals SNF & MNF games, the AFC & NCF Championships and the Super Bowl.

I prefer this to zealotry and trying to just cut it all off -- I would rather cut off 90% of my NFL watching then try to go for 100%, fail and then things stay the way they were for the past 13 years.

I have unfollowed the Bengals, Eagles & NFL accounts on all social media and also unsubscribed from their newsletters.

I will not attend any more games at Lincoln Financial Field nor will I attend another parade if the Eagles win another Super Bowl.

I also won't be watching the draft tonight nor tracking who the Bengals or Eagles select.

I can't unsee these young men tonight, full of hope promise dreams and ambitions, twenty to thirty years from now unable to work, talk, remember their playing careers, their wives & childrens names.

I can no longer embrace these young determined men lured by the bright lights and big money of the NFL being exploited for their courage, physicality, talents, intelligence, strength & heroic feats on the field.

[ghosts-and-glory]

Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all

Full under the cut because this turned out really long

Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.

The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.

There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.

The outlook is bad.

The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.

Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.

Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.

The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.

It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.

Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.

The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.

Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.

Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.

They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.

Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.

Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.

Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.

Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.

The outlook was better.

—————

This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.

As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.

[hhoneylemon]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩

dick grayson x hero!reader

summary: dick temporarily loses his hearing after a patrol

genre: fluff/slight comfort

word count: 1.2k

it was all a blur.

one moment, you’re fighting beside him. the next, he’s alone and blinking himself awake. he faintly remembers getting hit in the back of the head so hard that he could taste the color yellow.

dick doesn’t hear them. he can sense them, however, thanks to all those years in the gig. he turns as the thugs approach, sending a kick to the stomach of the closest thug, waiting to see who else would charge at him.

he doesn’t have to wait long. he wastes no time in beating a few of them with his escrima sticks, breathing hard when he sends another to the ground with a kick. his lungs and throat hurts. he can’t hear his breaths.

after punching the final thug a few times, he finally remembers he wasn’t here alone. a feeling of dread settles in his gut. he opens his mouth, roughly demanding where you are. he doesn’t hear himself, nor the reply as the thugs mouth moves. he curses himself internally; hearing loss. a possible sign of a concussion.

he drags himself out of the general area of the warehouse, searching separate rooms. he deals with the few thugs he comes across, but there are no signs of you. he’s beginning to panic. swiftly incapacitating people turns into bashing peoples heads into walls and floors. he’s more rough than he should be, less careful than he knows you’d wish he was.

upon finally emerging from the warehouse, he’s shown signs of your existence. there are a few thugs scattered about, already dealt with. he darts around in the shadows, being careful while also looking for you.

he almost screams for joy when he sees you in a small battle with someone. he’s immediately by your side, helping defeat a few other thugs who looked like they were about to gang up on you. you give him a quick ‘hey!’ as you punch the next thug, though you’re confused when dick didn’t reply to your greeting like he usually would.

the moment everyone else is dealt with, his arms are around you and the side of his face is pressed against yours. he lets out a shuddery breath and you make a noise of confusion.

“d? babe, you okay?”

he can feel your jaw move, but he can’t hear you. he lets out a noise of frustration, pulling away. there’s a look of despair on his face. you frown, cupping his chin with a hand.

“what’s wrong?”

his eyebrows furrow. what did you say? he shakes his head and points to his ear.

“i can’t hear.”

you tilt your head, giving a ‘huh?’ he breathes deeply, tilting his head to kiss your thumb.

“my hearing’s gone. i got hit in the head.”

you make a sound of understanding, then nod when you register the situation. you give him another hug, squeezing him. he quickly hugs back, gulping nervously. if he never hears your voice again, he’ll be gravely upset.

taking his hand, you begin leading him to the street. you can walk home, for all you care. or find a building with a fire escape you can climb to hop from rooftop to rooftop, either is fine. a kiss is pressed to dick’s cheek as you walk.

the usual chatter that’s shared after a patrol or mission is gone, bringing a sense of melancholy. all you have to comfort you is dick’s spandex-covered hand, which squeezes yours and makes sure you don’t have more than a few inches between each other. there are people in the streets of blüdhaven that pause and take photos of the cities defenders, though you’re left alone.

you find a building with a fire escape, pulling your boyfriend to the alleyway. he lets you climb first, following swiftly after you. together, the two of you run and leap from roof to roof until you make it to your apartment complex. he drops to the fire escape stairs and you follow him until reaching your window. breaking into your own apartment, you both climb into the bedroom.

you both strip and change into sleepwear; he grabs his tank top and sweatpants, stretching his arms. turning, he’s surprised to see you already on the bed. he didn’t hear the creak of the bed springs. oh yeah.

dick climbs onto the bed with you, settling onto his knees and cupping your cheek before kissing you softly. you place a hand on his thigh, sighing softly. he flutters his eyes at you and you frown.

“you’re so pretty.”

he gives you a look of confusion. you smile.

the two of you climb under the sheets together. he drapes himself atop of you, pressing his face against your chest. his arms wrap around your midsection, your own loosely wrapping around his waist. you peck the crown of his head.

“love you, dick. goodnight.”

he says nothing, though you didn’t necessarily expect him to. you stay awake a bit longer than normal, a sense of worry nestled in your mind, though exhaustion knocks you out regardless. dick takes much longer than usual; he’s used to sleeping to your heartbeat or your breathing, maybe the sounds of cars and such interrupting. absolute silence is frightening to him.

when dick awakes in the morning, he’s on his back with his arms flung at his sides. the room is illuminated by sunlight, the bed cold from the lack of his partners body. he groans, rolling over to hide his face in his pillow.

he heard the creaking of the bed springs.

he’s up within seconds, running down the small hallway to the kitchen. he finds you pouring a mug of coffee. he can hear the small hums that escape you, the sound of the coffee splashing into the mug.

as you put the coffee pot back into the machine, dick’s on you. he turns you, picks you up and spins you, places you back on the ground and attacks your face with kisses.

“good morning to you too.”

you smile, your arms wrapping around his neck. a sound that could be mistaken for a sob escapes your boyfriend.

“your voice is the sweetest sound on earth, babe. i, oh gosh, i love you.”

you laugh as he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, then captures your lips. his lips move desperately, as if he’d also regained his sense of touch. you smile, reaching a hand up into his hair and getting tangled in a few curls.

“well, i love you too. could i have my coffee now?”

he reluctantly releases you, watching you move with a small smile on his face. the moment you turn back towards him with your mug, he’s back to you. he gives you space to move your arm so that you can take a sip, though his hands find your hips and give them gentle squeezes.

you’d be annoyed that you weren’t able to sit if his face weren’t so pretty. a light smile carved with his lips, pretty blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, tan skin highlighted by the rays of sun that managed to leak through the kitchen curtains. with a sigh, you lean in to kiss his lips. he happily kisses back. you lean back and give him a teasing smile.

“have you even said good morning to haley yet?”

dick’s face drops. he immediately spins and skids to the living room a few feet away.

“my baby!”

you chuckle to yourself, watching as he drops to the floor in front of her. he’s such a dork.

masterlist

[kamaluhkhan]

GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you wanted revenge on luke castellan)

read part one — THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (afab, she/her pronouns)

summary: you were very angry and possibly still in love with luke castellan. kill him or kiss him — you still weren't sure what he deserved.

warnings/disclaimers: spoilers for season 1 of pjo + lots of book references. reader + luke are around 21 for most of this. rough? smut (p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, etc...) 18 + MDNI ! injuries + blood + violence. reader and others drink alcohol + smoke. lots of angst!!! luke + reader have matching tattoos. twilight + other pop culture references. reader kinda gives 'hell is a teenage girl in her 20s' vibes. maybe slightly toxic dynamic between reader + luke but we love complicated relationships ♡

author's note: thank u so much for all the love on part one!! i got a bit carried away with this one oops, but i hope y'all enjoy it :)

♪: "get him back" by olivia rodrigo

(i. he had a savior complex) 

if you were less consumed by anger, you might have noticed the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you. 

no one was supposed to go into the forest alone, but you were 17 and reckless and not at all concerned about breaking the rules, especially if it meant proving clarisse larue wrong.  

you ventured into the woods, farther than you'd ever been before, with nothing except your knife and a chest full of determination to prove that you were strong and brave just like any other demigod, regardless of if you had a cabin or not. 

you were younger then, less disillusioned, and more willing to buy into those fantasies of power and glory, spoon-fed to demigods as truth. one that you hoped to cross off that afternoon: being worthy of attention if you could sink your blade into the next monster that dared to cross your path.

everyone would see that you’re not just some little, powerless girl with no reason to be at camp. 

and, sure, there was a small but not insignificant part of you that hoped your mother was watching, that she’d finally notice how much of a hero you could be.

you could have died that afternoon. you put up a decent fight, but soon enough you found yourself fallen to the forest floor: blade down, broken arm, bleeding out. a manticore inches away from sending you to the underworld. 

you weren’t angry anymore, the adrenaline had left your body. you just were a scared child, silently praying to deities you hoped wouldn’t look away like they always do. 

i’m sorry, mom. i couldn’t do it. 

you closed your eyes, waited for your fate, and just when you thought all hope was lost — 

the sound of a sword ripping through flesh, an injured growl, and then nothing but your ragged breathing. 

your eyelids fluttered open.

it wasn't your mother, or any of the other gods, who jumped in to save your life.

standing in the middle of the clearing, gripping his sword, was luke castellan. 

he tucked annabeth’s invisibility cap into his back pocket and brought you to the infirmary.

"she's okay, though?" luke asked. he was watching you carefully, ashes from the manticore dusting his orange camp shirt. his arms were crossed, and it seemed that he managed to defeat the monster relatively unscathed.

lee fletcher, son of apollo, nodded as he set your injury. 

"nothing more than a broken arm and minor concussion. make sure your girl gets lots of rest, okay? no more monster hunting. probably has to sit out capture the flag tomorrow, too.”

you ignored the churning in your stomach when lee assumed you were luke’s girl. luke didn’t bother correcting him. 

lee left to get you some ambrosia to speed the healing process, leaving you and luke alone in the room. 

“you know, i’m not a damsel in distress you have to follow around, waiting to save. i’m not your girl.” 

“seriously?” he raised an eyebrow, but his cheeks became slightly flushed. “you would be dead if it wasn’t for me. i heard what happened with clarisse, but gods — you didn’t have to go and get yourself killed to prove something.” 

he was right, of course. part of you wanted to argue with him for always having to be the hero, but the fight lingering in your throat wasn’t enough to act on. you just sighed and looked away, feeling too impulsive and powerless and exhausted down to your bones. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, and then a hand on your shoulder. it was warmer than usual, but the calloused skin still felt familiar on yours.

“they’re not worth it, okay? that’s what you’re always telling me.”

luke’s voice was lower than before, a touch of bitterness laced through.

“yeah, well you never believe it,” you replied, voice hollow. “so why should i?” 

clarisse entered the infirmary before he could answer. luke was instantly on his feet, blocking you from her view, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“what are you doing here?” he practically growled. 

“i heard what happened,” clarisse explained, looking past luke to catch your eye. you waved at her with your newly applied cast. “i’m sorry about what i said earlier, if that had anything to do with it.”

at that point, you were still trying to figure out where you stood with clarisse. she had arrived at camp just before the new year. you’d been so used to new campers being younger than you, and it was nice to have someone the same age to be friends with. 

it wasn’t until the start of march, around two weeks ago, that ares had claimed her. ever since, there had been a newfound animosity between you, leading up to your explosive argument earlier that day. part of you had a feeling she was just trying to fit in with her siblings. it was a subtle thread woven throughout the camp, especially with the ares kids: this hierarchy of power according to the gods, with you on the lower end because your mother was only a minor goddess. 

needless to say, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before; it was just that the words pierced through your thick skin when coming from a friend. 

but the very fact that she came to visit you, that she apologized and seemed to regret that you’d gotten hurt, healed you more than the ambrosia lee was just coming back to give you. 

“thanks, clarisse,” you said after a mouthful of ambrosia. 

even with an established truce, luke didn’t move away from you. in fact, he puffed his chest out a bit more. 

“if you say anything like that to her again, i swear to all the gods —”

“i just said sorry, castellan,” clarisse scoffed. “now get out of the way so i can sign her cast.” 

clarisse attempted to move closer, but luke stayed planted where he was.

“you are not getting anywhere close to her,” luke warned. 

“easy, tiger.” you got up to put your hand on his arm, but luke jerked away from your touch. your fingers brushed against his skin however, and even that brief moment was enough to shock you with its temperature. you tried again, this time bringing a hand to his neck, and he let out a hiss upon contact. his pulse seemed quicker than normal.

“are you feeling okay?”

“i’m just fine,” he huffed, and stormed out of the infirmary.

a few days later, you were training with clarisse, when silena beauregard ran into the arena and interrupted you.

“it’s luke,” she coughed, out of breath. “he’s in the infirmary—”

you sprinted towards the big house before silena could finish her sentence. 

when you reached the infirmary, luke was being held back by lee and a few others, screaming that he needed to go find you or you’d die. he was holding his sword, and campers wrestled to remove it from his grip. the sleeve of his shirt lifted up slightly, and that was when you noticed it: a gash across his bicep, shallow, but turning a sickly green. the rest of his skin was flushed, his eyes frantically searching for someone — you — and he was breathing heavily between sentences.

it turned out that he’d gone the entire week with the wound festering. one of the manticore’s spikes must have grazed luke, and he hadn’t thought much of it because he was so focused on making sure you were okay. 

manticore poison could fuck with someone’s mind if not treated right away. worse: it could be fatal. 

despite your heart beating out of your chest and the chaos you walked into, you kept your voice gentle, but firm.

“luke.”

for a moment, everything stood still. luke froze, and the campers took the opportunity to get a better hold on him.

he blinked at you and shook his head. “no. no. you’re not her. i heard her screaming from the forest and - and she’s in trouble. i need to —”

“it’s me, tiger,” you assured him. 

you approached him carefully and, despite some whispers of warning, you gestured at everyone to let go of him completely. they might have had a point, because as soon as they did, the tip of his sword was dangerously close to your chin. 

“you’re not her,” he insisted. “you’re just some monster trying to trick me.”

you stood in front of him then, and slowly raised your arm to show him your cast. a few people had signed it — beckendorf, chris, clarisse, silena. luke had signed his name too, of course, along with a poor attempt at a cartoon tiger that made you all laugh. 

“see? it’s me. i’m okay.”

there were a few moments when you held your breath, feeling the celestial bronze dig into your skin a bit more. and then:

“it’s…you. you’re….okay?” 

luke’s speech was slightly slurred. he dropped his sword like it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds; it nicked you on its way down. you didn’t care though, because luke almost fell to the ground, too. 

you gripped his wrist to steady him. 

“you’re probably not okay, though,” you explained, well aware of the urgency of the situation. his pulse felt weaker by the second, his skin burning against yours. 

“i’m….i’m fine. i just need to — she’s gonna die if i don’t —”

“i’m right here. i’m here because you already saved me, remember? you saved me, but you got hurt.”

 he shook his head slowly, and his eyes started to flutter close. 

“no, i’m okay,” he breathed, his voice smaller than you’d ever heard it. “i need to make sure y/n is okay. she needs me….” 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, seeing him start to fade away right in front of you. 

you refused to lose hope. 

no — you wouldn’t watch luke castellan die.

“i’m here, luke.” you gripped his wrist even tighter to remind him.

“but —” 

“just rest for a minute, ” you insisted, guiding him towards a bed. “for me, okay?” 

as soon as you managed to get luke onto the bed and, more importantly, calm, everyone else sprung back into action. 

chiron was away for the week, so will solace — one of the younger apollo campers, but probably the best healer at camp — used some healing magic, while lee misted luke with cold water to cool him down and another kid dripped some nectar onto his wound.

luke hissed when the liquid seeped into his skin and reached out for you. you felt like the flesh might melt right off your bones, but you let him squeeze your hand for as long as he needed. somebody came around to put a bandage on your chin, too.

you'd always resented the gods, but that was the first time you'd really lost your faith in them. watching luke fight for his life even after saving yours, other demigods joining the battle, and you thinking: this is the life you cursed us with. you imagined the gods, with power to twist fate in their favor, simply enjoying a feast on mount olympus, hermes sipping nectar and not even aware that another one of his children is dying. you supposed your mother wasn’t any better either. her neglect felt like revenge for something you didn’t even know you had done.

after a while, the skin around luke’s wound lost its greenish hue. you released a deep breath when both lee and will declared that luke seemed to be on the mend — he just needed to get some rest, and, best case scenario, the poison should have run its course by morning.

you didn’t ask about the worst case scenario.

you estimated it was around 2 am when you heard luke’s voice again.

“cold,” was all he said through shivering teeth. 

you wordlessly grabbed as many blankets as you could, and tucked them around luke. you waited a few minutes to see if it helped.

“so - so cold,” he shivered again. you reached out to check luke’s pulse, and all you could find was the faintest heartbeat. his skin looked pale in the moonlight and now felt ice cold despite his high fever earlier. 

no one else was in the infirmary then. you were wracking your brain to remember what you had learned in demigod survival class about hypothermia. something about warm drinks? you ran to the kitchen and made him a cup of hot chocolate — with cinnamon, just how he liked it. 

you whispered his name once you were back at his bedside. his eyelids fluttered open. you tried coaxing him to take the drink, but he wouldn’t even hold the mug. you didn’t think twice about climbing into bed next to him, gently sitting him upright against the headboard so that you could offer him tiny sips. you noticed then that he was still only wearing a tank top, so you took off your sweatshirt — which happened to be one of luke’s — and slid it on him. 

when the hot chocolate was done, luke sighed. some of the color returned to his face, and his teeth stopped chattering. 

“thanks, karma.”

you just hummed in response, setting the mug down on the nightstand beside you and twisting underneath the blankets. luke settled back down next to you. he brushed his thumb over the band-aid on your chin. 

“what happened? did clarisse —”

“easy, tiger. it’s nothing — just a little scratch,” you replied. 

you spared him from the whole truth. sure, there was a moment earlier when you didn’t know whether or not luke would hurt you. it was only a split second, because that wasn’t your luke. he shouldn’t have had to live with the guilt of something he did by accident, as a result of a poisoned mind.

“anyways, i should be thanking you. you’re the one who almost died saving my life. you were hanging by a thread just a few seconds ago. it seems like you’re not completely out of the woods yet.”

“well, i guess the fates are still deciding what to do with me.” he cracked a smile. 

it was a bit morbid, given what you’d been through the past 12 hours, and the fact that the manticore venom clearly hadn’t left his body completely. the possibility of his death had not completely disappeared, though you supposed that, as demigods, the risk always remained higher. 

fuck the gods. they weren’t your protectors. they weren’t your family. 

the campers who put their whole heart into healing you and luke, the boy who risked his life for you — they were your family. 

you took luke’s humor as a good sign. the luke castellan you knew — confident banter, radiant grin, heart of gold — was coming back to you. 

the luke castellan you would not allow die, even if you could still feel the cool bronze of his blade linger on your chin. 

(ii. he had an ego)

according to annabeth chase, it was statistically improbable for a demigod to reach drinking age. something always kills them first - a monster, a blade, a fatal flaw. the likelihood of survival only gets exponentially lower with each passing year.

she repeated that information to luke on the morning of his 21st birthday.

“thanks for the cheerful birthday wishes, sis.” 

annabeth shrugged and hugged him before walking back to the athena table to finish breakfast. 

"you hear that, tiger?” you pointed a syrupy fork at luke. “you are literally saying fuck you to fate, just by being alive." 

"that’s the way i like it," luke quipped, and stole a blueberry from your plate. 

"hey man, happy birthday." chris patted luke’s shoulder on his way to sit across from you and luke. "so, i just talked to chiron and he agreed to let us go out tonight." 

you smiled between bites of your pancakes, reaching over to offer chris a triumphant fist bump.

“nice work, rodriguez.” 

"we're going out tonight?"

you pressed your knee to luke's under the table. 

"of course we are," you hummed. "we have a lot to celebrate." 

so, you, luke, chris, and a few of your friends — beckendorf, silena, and clarisse — went into the city to celebrate. one of luke's favorite bands was playing, and you had managed to snag a few tickets. you'd all entered a bar confidently that night, the fake ids you were at once so giddy and paranoid about no longer needed. 

there were few times when you could all just kick back and have fun, without having to worry about the responsibilities of being senior counselors. that night, you were all itching for a taste of freedom. or, at least, some alcohol. 

"happy birthday to the one and only luke castellan: a hero by any other name!" 

everyone raised their shot glasses, echoed beckendorf's words, and threw back their drinks. 

the night became louder, more vibrant. yet, even as you laughed and drank and danced with your friends, there was a heaviness lingering in your chest.

for most demigods, birthdays were bittersweet. each one served as a reminder of time running out because of exactly what annabeth said that morning. most half-bloods don’t even live past their teens, let alone the age of 20. you had the blood of gods flowing in your veins, and your lives were influenced by sinister, divine forces from ancient times. you were the new generation of heroes, protagonists of those greek tragedies that made mortals weep.

there was no guarantee that this would last forever, but all of your friends —  the people you loved — had beat the odds. 

so, who would blame you for getting a little sentimental? 

beckendorf and chris had wandered off to play pool, in hopes of winning some bets and free drinks. clarisse was flirting with some girl who caught her eye, and silena went to grab some water after having danced for a bit. you and luke were still in the crowd, swaying to the music. for one glorious moment, you were just a group of twenty-one year olds enjoying a carefree night out. 

under the flashing lights, you stole a glimpse at luke. he wore a simple white tank top and ripped jeans, paired with a leather jacket and some rings he borrowed from you so he could, in his words, look more punk-rock. his curls were messy, his skin glittering with a thin sheen of sweat. the chain he layered with his usual camp necklace caught the multicolored light and highlighted the sharp angles of his collarbones. 

whatever aesthetic he was going for, luke looked good. based on various eyes following him throughout the room, you assumed others thought the same as well. it made you just a little bit furious, feeling that he wasn't only yours to admire. 

“you good?” luke’s voice cut through the noise, but he had to lean in close.  

his fingers brushed against the section of waist exposed by your cropped top. you’d gotten so warm that you had to tie your flannel around your waist, but luke’s touch sent a shiver through your body. it made you somewhat dizzy, feeling the cold metal of those rings on your skin. even moreso, when you realized how much you wanted to kiss your best friend, sink your teeth into his smirk and taste the mint chapstick and tequila on his lips. 

to be fair, you and luke had crossed that line before, and you were in the fields of asphodel ever since. 

not quite friendship, not quite romance. something deeper, more volatile and electric. 

you didn’t want to make things blurrier than they already were, though. whatever you acted on that night could have just been dismissed the next morning as a drunken mistake.

so, you just nodded at him and turned back towards the band as though you were never thinking about anything more than the music. 

after a few more songs, luke commanded your attention once more.

“hey, didn’t you once say you wanted to start a band?”

“what do i look like, a child of apollo?” you joked, but luke raised an eyebrow at you, clearly wanting a serious answer.

it was slightly alarming, how well he knew you; through your childhood dreams and down to your core. 

“in another life,” you conceded. “maybe.”

“in another life,” luke echoed. he leaned in close again. “you’d be a pretty hot drummer, and i’d be front row at every show.”

your lips could have touched if you moved your head just an inch, but he pulled away before you did. he was giving you that classic son-of-hermes smirk, the one that made everyone swoon. 

the thing was, you were sure that luke knew the effect he had on people. you had seen him continuously bask in the praise of chiron and other campers, always preening for the crowd's attention, as if he had to do anything more than smile. everyone loved luke — he was handsome, charismatic, strong.

and, yeah, you weren’t immune. your fatal flaw: not loyalty, or anger, or recklessness, but luke castellan’s charm.

you had to keep yourself grounded. it would be a bad idea to cross that line again on his birthday, right? 

luke licked his lips as you kept staring at him. you could tell he was waiting for you to do something. 

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the rhythm of the music vibrating through your bones, but you started thinking — fuck it. 

before you could act on that impulse, some person with bright red hair stepped between you and luke. she introduced herself, telling luke she saw him from across the room, and she'd been watching him all night, and would he by any chance want to dance with her?

luke seemed flattered, interested even. he flashed her the very same smile he had just given you, which left a bitter taste in your mouth. you excused yourself before you had to hear them flirt even more. 

you walked over to silena at the bar. she had a half-empty glass of ice water melting in front of her, her attention somewhere else. you sat down beside her and followed her gaze to what — who — she was looking at. 

“if confessing feelings to someone is hard for aphrodite’s daughter, then there’s really no hope for the rest of us,” you tell her.

silena whipped her head towards you. her cheeks were flushed a light pink. 

“i - i don’t have feelings for clarisse.”

“lena, please. we all know. well, except maybe clarisse.”

“what?” she blinked at you, eyeshadow shimmering in the light.

“yeah,” you said with a small laugh. the irony of it all: the head counselor of cabin 10  denying that she was in love with someone. “we talk about it all the time.”

“well,” silena huffed, cheeks now a bright red. “i guess i should tell you that the rest of us talk about you and luke.” 

you reached over to grab her water, your throat suddenly dry. 

“what about us?” you asked after finishing the drink in one long sip. 

“about how you obviously both have feelings for each other. half the camp already thinks you’re dating.”

you started to crunch on whatever ice was still frozen. 

“well, we aren’t.” 

that reality hurt more than the sharp pain piercing your brain from ingesting too much cold, too fast. you couldn’t even spot luke in the crowd — he and the redhead had probably gone off to some private corner. 

“people think love’s a joke,” silena sighed. “but they don’t realize how much power it can have over a person. it can make people —”

“cowards?” you suggested.

silena nodded solemnly. “cowards.”

neither of you said anything for a while, two love-sick half-bloods slumped over a sticky bar counter.

suddenly, silena sat up straight. she tied her black hair up into a ponytail. perfect, of course, along with her makeup. you were sure you had sweat off the glitter she had applied to your cheeks earlier. 

“i am not a coward.” 

without another word, silena got up and glided towards clarisse, and you were left with an empty stool next to you. 

part of you was proud of her for following her heart. the other part couldn’t stop picturing someone else’s tongue down luke’s throat. 

“can i get a ginger-ale, please?” you asked no one in particular, hoping that the bartender heard your request for something to ease your nausea. 

“you sure you don’t want anything stronger?” 

someone slid onto the barstool next to you. he looked around your age, wearing a navy and red rugby shirt. he had what looked like a pretty expensive watch on his wrist, and he was already leaning in way too close for a stranger. 

“i’m fine,” you deadpanned.

“oh, come sweetheart, it’s on me.” 

you scoffed at the nickname and shook your head.

the guy next to you didn’t care. he snapped to get the bartender’s attention. “two vodka tonics, please. that’s your drink, right? i’m usually pretty good at guessing.”

“dude, i said i’m fine,” you repeated through clenched teeth.

the bartender set two drinks in front of you and rugby shirt pointed towards them.

“well, i already got you a drink, so you at least owe me a conversation.” he slid the drink closer to you.

"i don't owe you anything." 

"oh, come on," rugby shirt cooed. "i don't bite." he slipped his hand underneath your skirt, nails scratching along the skin of your upper thigh, through your fishnets.

you growled at the contact and stood up abruptly, more than a little coincidentally knocked the glass over. the liquid splashed onto him. his flirtatious grin melted right off his face.

“jesus christ —you bitch,” he spat. “this is what i get for trying to be nice?”

“that’s what you get for trying to grope me,” you snapped. “but i could do a lot worse if you’re in the mood.”

his face was a pissed-off shade of red, his mouth formulating a response when —

you felt luke’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. you side-eyed him, and ignored the hickey blooming at the base of his neck.

“is there a problem here?” luke’s voice was firm, steady. 

it seemed like all the fight left rugby shirt’s body, and he put his hands up in surrender. 

“oh, sorry dude. i didn’t realize she was taken.”

you rolled your eyes. figured that this guy would only back off if there was a jealous boyfriend in the mix. 

“it’s fine, i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“that’s for sure,” the guy continued. “your girl practically bit my head off for being nice and buying her a drink.”

your fingers tightened into a fist.

“that is not —”

“look, i gotta apologize on her behalf.”

“luke, what are you —”

“let me handle this, baby,” he hummed. “trust me, she’s normally a good girl. she just gets….harder to control after one too many drinks.” 

“i am this close to throwing my next drink at you,” you insisted. 

you weren't naive. you knew luke was putting on an act, but you weren't sure why he felt the need to appease this jerk and put you down in the process. 

you hated the way he was acting now — arrogant, condescending, borderline sexist. you wanted to storm off, you really did, but that would mean having to tear yourself away from luke, and.... you didn't hate the firm hold he had on you. 

he chuckled and raised an eyebrow at the guy knowingly, like they were the closest friends. 

“see what i mean?”

“that’s quite the firecracker you got there,” the guy complimented, as though you were a prize luke had won. “those are the ones you gotta keep on a tight leash, though.”

oh, your patience was wearing thin. if luke didn't take care of this guy soon….

“don’t i know it.” luke laughed when you barred your teeth at him. “look, we all came here to have a good time. why don’t you go join your friends again, and i’ll send over some drinks.”

rugby shirt looked at luke, then nodded. 

“alright. thanks, man. and sorry again for the….confusion.” 

luke extended a hand, and the guy shook it.

"no hard feelings. i'll be sure to keep her on a tighter leash, though."

rugby shirt walked away, laughing. you were just about ready to bite luke's head off.

you shoved luke away from you. your whole body felt like it was on fire. 

“luke castellan, i don’t care if it’s your birthday, if you ever talk to me like that again, i swear to all the gods —” you faltered when luke’s lips curled into a smirk. 

that smug, gorgeous, self-important smirk.

“what?” 

“i’m just waiting until you’re done chewing me out,” he said, clearly a bit amused. “you done?”

you hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “for now, i guess.”

“good, because we have about 2 minutes before our misogynistic frat buddy over there notices that something’s missing.”

he lifted his hand to show off the real prize of the night. 

“you did all of that….. to steal the guy’s watch?”

“well, duh. he was being a jerk and i’m the prince of thieves, karma. gotta use my powers for good.” 

luke winked at you as you stared at him in awe. 

“we really should go though. the others are waiting for us outside.” 

you jutted your chin towards the bruise on his neck.

"what about the redhead?"

luke flushed, adjusted his collar to hide the hickey. "i kinda lost interest when she said i was hot for an asian guy."

"oh." you ignored the triumph in your gut. "sounds like a jerk, too." 

"whatever." luke shrugged. "hard to find the good ones, right?" 

luke turned towards the exit.

"wait.” you tugged him back, and luke looked confused for a split second. “you're one of the good ones, luke castellan. did i ever tell you how incredibly happy i am that you were born?" 

luke grinned. "you could stand to say it more often."

his smile was infectious. you liked this side of luke: protective, mischievous, a bit of a trouble-maker. 

it made you want to kiss him all over again.

(iii. he lied without flinching)

you couldn’t find luke anywhere. 

he wasn’t at the climbing wall, or the arena, or the forge. luke seemed to have a knack at vanishing when you needed him most.

when you finally found him, he was outside the big house, in what seemed to be a somewhat heated conversation with chris and a new camper, ethan nakamura. 

ethan nakamura, son of nemesis. you were shocked when your mother’s symbol — swords crossed underneath a set of scales — appeared over his head after two weeks of staying at the hermes cabin. 

you were still getting used to having a younger half-brother. 

“hey,” you greeted the trio, slightly out of breath from running all over camp. as soon as you joined them, a silence fell over the group. “i was looking for you everywhere, tiger. what’s going on here?”

“actually, we were just —”

“nakamura,” luke spoke ethan’s name like a warning. 

“i’m just saying, maybe we should consider —”

luke cut ethan off this time with a sharp glance. 

“i already said no. end of discussion.”

“whatever you say, boss,” ethan grumbled.

the trio was silent again, and you eyed each of them suspiciously.

“okay, seriously. what’s —”

“we’ll talk more about this later, guys,” luke interrupted. his tone was commanding. ethan and chris dispersed. 

once they were gone, you furrowed your brows at luke, not sure what they would be talking about that could make him speak so harshly. 

“what was that about?” you asked for the third time.

“nothing important.” luke gave you a smile that seemed to stretch a bit thin. “you said you were looking for me everywhere. wanna go makeout in the hermes cabin? i’m pretty sure it’ll be empty this time of day.”

you shook your head, no matter how tempting the offer. the scene you walked into made you so uneasy that you completely forgot there was something important you needed to tell luke.

“percy and annabeth just iris-messaged me,” you explained. 

“oh,” he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is their quest going alright?”

you repeated everything the kids had told you: medusa, the chimera, ares. clarisse maybe being the lightning thief. luke had to sit down on the stairs leading to the big house when you spoke that last part. you understood why — clarisse was your friend. 

sitting down next to him, you sighed.

“you don’t think….you don’t think it could be true, do you?” 

clarisse was hot-headed, sure, maybe a bit impulsive, but a war between the gods? that didn’t seem her style. 

you hoped luke would assure you, but instead he said:

luke ran a hand through his hair. “it would make sense.”

“what?”

he leaned in close, voice low.

“clarisse was there with us during our field trip to olympus in december. the gods are arrogant enough to leave their stuff in the throne room, and there’s not really any security. she could have easily snuck in when everyone was sleeping. clarisse….” luke let out a heavy breath. “clarisse is the lightning thief.”

“no. no. she wouldn’t —”

“it makes sense, karma,” luke insisted. he placed a hand on your knee. “clarisse is angry at the gods.”

“we all are,” you pointed out.

“well, sure, but her dad is ares. how else do you get the god of war’s attention if not starting a war?”

you took a second to process luke’s reasoning. maybe he did have a point. it was just that sharp pain in your chest keeping you from believing it. 

“we don’t know anything for sure,” you decided. “and until we do….we don’t tell anyone. especially chiron.”

luke squeezed your knee, gave you a reassuring smile. 

“sounds like a plan.” he moved in closer and whispered: “now, how about we sneak away, and i do that thing with my tongue that makes you squirm?” 

you felt something tighten in your lower abdomen. you and luke were still in the sneaking-around-camp stage of your relationship; you both got a thrill from it.

at the time, you figured luke was just offering you a much needed distraction.

he kissed just below your ear to sweeten the deal — and how were you supposed to resist?

you didn’t even question how luke knew when the bolt was stolen, let alone how he seemed to have the theft already planned out perfectly.

(iv. he hid behind a pretty face and perfect teeth)

 it had been a little over a week since people around camp — including percy, annabeth, and grover, who had gotten back from their quest — found out about you and luke, together. apparently your friends had a bet going, meaning that everyone other than silena was less than thrilled about your announcement. they warmed up to the idea since then.

it still felt a little bit surreal calling luke castellan your boyfriend. 

luke often played the role of the perfect demigod, the one everyone should strive to be. he paid extra attention to new campers and made them feel welcomed. he did his chores on time, stepped in if more hands were needed for kitchen patrol, and spent hours going through reports for chiron. he taught sword-fighting and encouraged younger campers to keep practicing. he did participate in the occasional prank, that mischievous child of hermes streak impossible not to indulge in, but it only made everyone adore him even more. because luke was responsible, but not boring. he was incredibly skilled and driven, but also gracious. he was sensible and charismatic. 

you watched that luke — camp half-blood’s golden boy, the hero everyone either wanted to be, befriend, or date — and you were in awe. mostly, you wondered how he managed to bury the anger and resentment you knew was churning inside him, the same anger and resentment you sometimes let slip through. 

no, you were not as careful as golden boy luke, who showed no malice towards the olympians. to chiron, to everyone else, luke castellan respected the gods, honored them in everything he did, and taught others to do the same. 

that was not the luke who sucked a bruise onto your neck while suggesting something even you might consider blasphemous. 

“we can’t just - uh,” you had to catch your breath when luke slipped his thumb underneath the band of your sports bra. “we’d get in trouble, tiger.”

you felt him chuckle against your skin.

“since when do you care about that?” 

“since the king of the gods would probably strike us with lightning, or turn us into some horrible monsters, or curse us if we were caught fucking in his cabin." 

"that’s only if we get caught." 

luke gave you that flirtatious smile, the one he now reserved only for you.

it was that smile that led to luke settling between your legs, fucking you with his tongue and fingers, his other hand digging into your thigh to keep you from writhing too much. 

zeus’ cabin was, of course, empty, since his only known child was turned into a pine tree. you and luke had tucked yourselves into the one corner where the giant statue of the god couldn’t see you, setting a sleeping bag down on the cold marble floor and your discarded clothes scattered throughout. the dome-shaped ceiling was decorated with an enchanted mosaic sky that seemed to move. the only sounds that echoed throughout the room were moans as your orgasm washed over you.

"you're so, so pretty," he mumbled, wet lips brushing the skin of your inner thigh. he stayed where he was, awfully concerned with lapping up everything.

you whined his name when you found him taking too long, already a bit sensitive and wanting him inside you.

it might have been your conscious, but you swore you could hear a storm brewing, the threat of thunder and lightning looming.  the mosaic sprouted some clouds, growing darker by the second as if a countdown to your doom.

luke, on the other hand, was acting like you had all the time in the world, and then some.

he paused after his name tumbled from your lips again, and you tugged his hair. he propped his chin on your stomach to get a better look of you. luke was gorgeous, with his mess of black curls, deep brown eyes a little more dangerous than usual, smirk shining with your cum.

"yes, sweetheart?"

“get up here and kiss me,” you groaned. 

once again, luke took his sweet time. his mouth left a trail along your thighs and your hips, your stomach and ribs. it felt like he was worshiping every inch of your skin, scarred and uneven and tattooed as it was. luke took extra care in appreciating the sword engraved on your sternum, the tattoo that matched the one he had on his collarbone.

“hi,” luke whispered once he was face to face with you. 

“hey, tiger,” you matched the softness of his voice, contrasting the harshness that followed when luke crashed his lips into yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue, and once he sucked all the air from your lungs, you had to pull away. 

you informed him: “there’s a condom in my back pocket.”

“always prepared,” he noted with a smile, reaching over to get it.

you kissed luke again as he entered you, your nails scraping down his back. when he pulled away to look at you, you couldn’t meet his gaze. instead, you were mesmerized by the sharp contours of his body and the healed wounds that lingered, every scar that you knew by heart like they were your own. you had a favorite, too — the faint cut on his hip from when he, thalia, and annabeth were on the run and they had to jump a fence.

if luke hadn’t been thrusting into you, you would have bent down to kiss it. 

“eyes up here, beautiful.” 

when you complied, luke smiled and ran his thumb along your jaw.

“good girl,” he praised. “you okay if i go harder?”

you settled for kissing the scar on his cheekbone.

“yes,” you finally answered.  "please."

luke brought his hand down to wrap your leg around his hip before he started moving faster. your head fell back against the marble floor, but you didn’t care about the impact. you just focused on how good it felt to have luke inside you, his strong hand on your hip, his warm breath on your skin. 

after feeling you tighten around him, luke let go a bit more. he dropped his head between your neck and shoulder, his curls brushing against you. as he reached his peak, luke bit your shoulder, hard,  to keep himself from groaning too loudly. you could have sworn that you heard thunder at that exact moment. in fact, it seemed to shake the entire cabin.

luke seemed to catch the threat that time, too. 

there was no room for pillow talk as the two of you rushed to get dressed and get out of there before the king of the gods lost his patience and struck you with lightning, turned you into some horrible monsters, or cursed you. maybe all three, maybe something worse.

you slipped on your underwear and pants, but couldn’t find the top half of your outfit. 

“do you see my shirt there?”

luke had just pulled on his boxers when he turned and passed the item to you. you weren’t sure why he paused for a second while doing it. then, he whispered:

“shit.” luke’s eyes were glued to your shoulder, where his teeth had broken skin. his cheeks flushed a bright red. whether it was shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know; but you were slightly taken aback. “i’m, i’m sorry, i — i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never want to —”

you placed your hands on his cheeks. 

“hey.” you whispered at him softly, and it was enough for him to stop rambling. you could tell he felt guilty, though, since he refused to meet your gaze.

“luke, baby, look at me.”

when he finally did, your heart ached. 

it wasn’t like you hadn’t done similar to luke. you’d never broken skin, sure, but luke seemed to enjoy — really enjoy — whenever you used your teeth in the heat of the moment. you just assumed he knew you wouldn’t mind the same.

but, one bite, and luke was almost reduced to tears, all because he was afraid of hurting you. 

“it’s fine, okay? i’m fine.”

luke didn’t seem convinced, his brows furrowed with concern. you kissed the crease on his forehead and reassured him once more that you were fine. 

 “if anything, consider it payback for the hickey i left that took a week to fade away.”

luke smiled softly at that, and you knew he was coming back to you. 

“you know, annabeth suggested that i go to the infirmary because of how it looked. i had to tell her i got it during sparring practice.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you laughed, and so did luke. 

thunder rumbled throughout the cabin once more, and you swore the clouds were growing darker by the second. 

you were about to finish getting dressed when he grabbed your waist.

“look, if i’m ever too rough whenever we’re —”

“sparring?” 

“sure,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “whenever we’re sparring, just promise that you’ll let me know.”

“of course,” you hummed. “only if you do the same.”

“of course,” he echoed, and he pecked your lips. “i think it’s hot, you know? when you feel like you can let go. when you mark me. i like everyone knowing that i’m yours.”

you bit back a smile, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

“well, i think it’s hot when you mark me, too. especially when you bite me,” you admitted. 

“don’t tell me you’re still into the whole vampire thing,” he teased.

“oh, please. you were as obsessed with it as the rest of us. don’t you remember?”

as if either of you could forget marathoning entire seasons of buffy the vampire slayer on dvds rented from the nearest video store. you'd watch episode after episode with your friends, the six of you squeezing onto the small couch in the big house, sharing one bowl of popcorn and endless cups of coffee to stay awake.

you shivered out of the memory when he brought his fingers up to trace the bite mark he had left on you.

zeus could have sent more thunder. he could have created a whole godsdamned storm, but you wouldn’t have cared.

luke was so close that you had nothing better to do than to close the distance between you.

luke got bolder as the kiss became more heated — he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping over the crimson liquid that emerged, the tang of copper invading your mouth.

“easy there, angel,” you referenced, and felt him smirk against your lips before moving to nip at your neck. 

you trailed your hand down the front of his exposed stomach, outlining the contours and curves. with the moonlight reflecting in, accompanied by the crackle of lightning, it almost looked like luke’s skin was glittering.

“you’re so beautiful," you cooed, nails scraping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen. "how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

“you won’t.” 

“i'm the lucky one." a shadow passed over luke's face, and you swore you felt his grip tightening on your hips. “i never want to hurt you,” he finished the sentence you had interrupted earlier.

at the time, you didn’t think he was even capable of such a thing. 

for better or for worse, that was the night you realized something.

you liked golden boy luke. or, at the very least, you tolerated him.

the rule-breaking, sin-committing, blood-sucking luke?

he was the one you were irrevocably in love with. 

except your life wasn't some neatly written, scripted coming-of-age story about fictional vampires and slayers. 

it had monsters, too. you just didn't realize who they were until it was too late. 

(v. he made you look so naive)  

there was blood on your hands, but you weren’t sure who it belonged to.

yours or luke’s — it was a toss-up that made you more than a little nauseous. 

luke had stolen the lightning bolt. luke had tried to frame percy and start a war between the gods. luke had begged you to join kronos’ army with him. you almost killed him because of it until you realized that he left percy to die. 

you summarized everything to chiron and mr. d once you had made sure that percy was getting help in the infirmary. the scorpion poison was still putting up a fight, but percy was strong. annabeth was there with him.

dread simmered in the pit of your stomach just thinking about having to tell her everything, too — to see the look in her eyes when she hears just how much her big brother betrayed her.

“and you have no idea where mr. castellan could have gone?” chiron’s voice was stern, moreso than usual. 

you shook your head, not particularly paying attention. you could still feel blood seeping from the blademark luke had left. 

“that’s awfully convenient,” mr.d scoffed.

you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“i’ve heard around camp that you and this luke were quite…. close,” mr. d said, pointing his can of diet coke at you accusingly. 

a wave of anger surged through you. it had been building in your gut ever since luke revealed his betrayal, and you didn’t care if it was a god who was on the receiving end of your wrath. 

“seriously? i saved percy and told you everything, and you’re here suggesting what? that i’m somehow a traitor, too?”  

“seems like the plot of a pretty twisted love story.”

your lips curled into a snarl, and you were about to pounce until chiron dismissed you.

you were in a trance for the rest of the day. chris was gone, too. ethan didn’t seem surprised. silena sobbed, clarisse comforted her, beckendorf cursed luke’s name. other campers kept asking about where their favorite counselor had gone, until they started growing weary of you.

because if golden boy luke was evil, what were the odds that his hot-headed, impertinent girlfriend was, too?

luke left you there, looking like an absolute fool for believing in him, trusting him, loving him.

you couldn’t unsee his blood on your hands. you might as well have been lady macbeth, desperately scrubbing out stains that would never leave.

vi. he was a vice you could never shake

calling all riot grrrls and punk rockers — this show is for YOU!!! come see the SIRENS OF NEW YORK perform THIS friday at joan’s bar ;)

the flyer was an obnoxiously vibrant shade of red and plastered throughout the neighborhood, and it did a good job. one of queens’ best dive bars was packed with people waiting to see the band perform: stella yamada on guitar, mohini banjaree on bass, sally mcknight on vocals — and you on drums. 

it was nice and still a bit new, this relatively normal existence with relatively normal people.

you couldn’t cut off the demigod side of your life completely. there was still a war brewing, and you were in regular enough contact with camp. 

but, you’d been away for a few years, trying to live the life of a non-halfblood in their early 20s. you had an apartment, a cat and a nice enough roommate. you were in school and working as a bartender to pay for rent and tuition. you had friends who, for lack of a better term, were normal. people who worried about paying off student loans and finding their passion in life, whether it be law school or feminist prose or angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion. people who spent their time in classrooms or tattoo parlors or their friends’ bathrooms at 2am while bleaching their hair after a bad breakup. 

sometimes though, usually late at night when you couldn’t sleep, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life. 

you missed home. you missed playing capture the flag and training in the arena and having breakfast in the dining pavilion. you missed your friends, the ones you’d grown up with. 

you missed —

no. you tried not to let your mind wander towards him, or the consequences of what he did. you both drew blood the afternoon he confessed his sins to you, but he was the one who twisted the knife. he was the reason you couldn’t stand your life as a half-blood anymore. 

you just tried to focus on the mortal, mundane things that now composed your everyday life, like the stage you would be performing on in 30 seconds. 

before every show, your bandmates went through different degrees of anxiety. you didn’t get stage fright like them. they called you fearless, but the reality was that you had just gone up against much worse. 

and yet, that night, you almost froze mid-set, just as you started a cover of the joan jett’s “you don’t know what you’ve got.”

ironically, luke had gotten you a cd of this album for your 15th birthday. 

i was caught so unaware, when you made other plans.

think of the devil, and he shall appear.

it couldn’t have been him there, though. last time you heard of him, luke was growing kronos' army somewhere on the west coast.  

you pushed through, even though your concentration was shaken. 

i can’t stand to hear your name

you had to shake off the feeling of him watching you. 

it was just that — a bad feeling, right?

 you missed another beat, and mo turned around to give a concerned yet frustrated frown. joan had hinted that there might have been an agent in the audience, and you couldn’t afford to mess up. 

oh baby, you really blew it.

the song ended, and your blood ran cold.

it had to be a trick of the light, seeing luke in the crowd, but just the thought of being in the same space again made it impossible to be up on that stage, so exposed. 

as the band was getting ready for the next song, you slipped away, out the back door and into the alley for some fresh air. with shaky hands, you brought a cigarette between your lips and pulled out your lighter. it was a terrible habit, you knew.

those were always the ones hardest to quit and you needed a vice to keep you grounded. 

so there you found yourself, shivering in your black tank top, just cropped enough that the fishnets you wore underneath red leather pants were slightly visible. the bricks were cool against your back and you exhaled into the soft evening twilight when you realized it hadn’t been a trick of the light. 

“you look like buffy the vampire slayer.”

you rolled your eyes, because of course luke would do that. you were on opposite sides of an impending war between gods and titans, a world-ending conflict that luke directly enabled, and he led with a light-hearted comment like you were still the best of friends. 

as if you hadn’t been on the receiving ends of each other’s blades ever since luke revealed himself to be a traitor. 

“give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill you right now. ”

“because i’m alone.”

“you could still be here to kill me,” you reasoned. “or at least try.”  

after everything, you wouldn’t put it past him. you known him to do a lot worse, all to people he claimed to, in a past life, care about. 

luke tried again. 

“because you always liked a fair fight. i came alone and unarmed.” 

you scoffed, dropped your half-finished cigarette to the ground, and snuffed it out with the toe of your chunky patent boot before walking over to stand in front of luke. he put his hands up in surrender as you approached him. 

“if you’re not here to fight, then why are you here?” you demanded, fingers brushing against the switchblade in your pocket. you always kept a celestial bronze weapon on you in case you came across any monsters in the city. you looked at the one in front of you, and wished you had brought a bigger knife.

“i just….i wanted — needed to see you.”

your eyes grazed luke carefully.

he looked rough. deep shadows under his eyes, hair disheveled and partially matted down, shirt wrinkled like he’d been on the run for days. his hands caked with blood and dirt, his face, too. a nasty bruise on his elbow, and what looked like another one disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. 

you bit down the urge to care. you had to remind yourself that luke was dangerous, cruel, and heartless. you couldn’t stand to look at him for one more second, at least not without biting his head off, or at the very least the cut on his lip. 

“no. you don’t get to just —”

the door slammed open, echoed throughout the alley. stella poked her head out, guitar still strapped to her shoulder. from inside, you could hear the crowd cheering.

“jesus christ, y/n! where have you been?” 

“sorry, stel. i needed a smoke break and then i ran into a — ” your voice caught on the word friend. “luke.”

his name left a poisonous taste in your mouth, and you swallowed its bitterness. 

she saw luke then, who gave her that charming smile of his you hadn’t seen in forever. he extended a hand towards her, but stella just scowled at him and turned back to you.

“are you coming to finish the show?” stella demanded. 

“i need to deal with this,” you told her. “i’m sor—”

stella huffed and slithered back inside before you could finish apologizing. 

 “great,” you laughed cynically. “now one of my best friends is pissed at me, and i might get kicked out of the band. my luck just gets worse every time you force yourself back into my life, castellan.”

you weren’t quite sure how to make of the way he looked at you — maybe apologetic, possibly desperately, definitely some sort of disguise. 

“i know….i fucked up, karma.”

you glared at the use of his old nickname for you, feeling a shudder run down your spine.

“yeah, you fucked up. and now everyone, the whole world, is suffering the consequences. me, annabeth, your mom —”

“please,” luke begged once more, voice shaking now. “if you ever loved me —”

“don’t.” you barked. “if you ever loved me, you’d accept that the next time we see each other, it’ll be fighting on a battlefield. until one of us is on the ground, bleeding out, or never again.”

luke stared at you. you glared back at him. 

“sorry i’m late, lukey. did i miss much?” a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension. 

you turned and saw a cheerleader. she looked relatively normal, but the mismatched legs — one bronze, another furry — along with the red eyes and fangs gave her away. 

“you said you were alone,” you pointed out, tilting your head towards the monster. “looks like you brought company.”

“i didn’t,” luke insisted. “kelli’s been hunting me down.”

kelli pouted. “i thought we were playing hide and seek. but it’s over now — i win. please don’t be mad, baby.”

baby. you could have laughed. 

“i guess you moved on, castellan.” you meant your words to come across as mocking, so you hoped luke couldn’t sense the resentment behind them.

kelli giggled, and you thought your ears might bleed. 

“he sure did,” she cooed and moved closer to luke, running a long red fingernail down his chest. he pushed her away abruptly, and kelli pouted once more. “we miss you, luke. i miss you. please come back home with me.”

“that’s not my home.”

out of everything luke had said, those were the words that got through to you. you glanced at him once more — his hands curled into fists, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on yours, panicking and pleading at the same time. 

you had to give in to those pleading, panicked brown eyes. 

luke didn’t have any weapons on him. all you had was a tiny pocket knife and some combat skills you’d been maintaining through kickboxing classes with your roommate, but you were willing to put them to good use.

you stepped in front of luke. 

“listen — kelli, was it?” the empousa growled at you. “call me sentimental, but i can’t let you take him.”

kelli gave you a snarl, and you whipped out your switchblade. admittedly, it looked a little pathetic compared to her deadly fangs and sharp claws. 

“aw, cute!” she mocked, and then pushed you backwards. 

you expected to tumble into luke, but he had disappeared. seemed like you did make the wrong choice, to trust luke again. 

again — the worst, most sinister habits were the hardest ones to break. 

it briefly crossed your mind to chase him down after this for leading you into a trap. for now, you had a shapeshifting cheerleader to take care of. 

you managed to side-step kelli’s next attack, and sliced across her arm in the process. she shrieked. her hair bursted into flames, as if your day could get any worse. you tried to get another jab in, but kelli managed to be quicker this time. she punched you in the jaw, then kicked you, hard, with a hoofed foot, causing a dull crack to your ribcage upon impact. the kick sent you spinning towards the brick wall; it stopped you from falling, but knocked the air out of your lungs. you spat, your mouth thick with the taste of blood. your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t locate your knife. 

you were definitely out of practice. 

“kelli!” 

you both turned your attention towards luke, standing at the entrance of the alley with his sword in hand.

“luke!” kelli said like he was her long lost lover. she batted her eyelashes at him, the murderous grin she had given you melting away to something more enticing. “you came to help me finish her off.”

luke tilted his head. “not exactly.”

luke threw the sword towards you. despite a split second of surprise, you caught it; made a sharp diagonal cut. before kelli knew it, she was reduced to nothing but dust.

you dropped luke’s sword and fell to the pavement, adrenaline coursed through your veins from the first near-death experience you’d had in months. even with your body bruised and broken, fighting was a thrill like no other. 

luke came to kneel in front of you, sneakers crunching over the ashes of his ex-girlfriend.

“you said you were unarmed.” your voice sounded muffled. you spat out another mouthful of blood.

“half-bloods are walking monster bait. i’d be an idiot if i didn’t have any celestial bronze on me.” 

to emphasize his point, luke tucked your switchblade carefully back into your pocket. he moved his hand to the hem of your shirt. it was your instinct to keep him from lifting it up, and he stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“i’m just trying to see how bad it is,” he informed. his lips then formed a bemused grin. “besides, i’ve already seen everything.”

“shut up,” but you smiled weakly even if it made your cheek hurt.

the skin where kelli had kicked you was turning an alarming shade of purple. luke tried to touch it, but you let out a sharp breath when pain emanated across your ribcage, and he recoiled. 

“okay, we need to get you —”

“i’m fine,” you groaned. you struggled to stand up, but you urged yourself to walk away. in your mind, the scales were already balanced. 

the moral, logical side of you was in danger of yielding to the wicked desire you always tried to suppress — to be with luke, even once more, just like old times. your quest for vengeance could only be stopped by your hunger for something more, and you needed distance from him before you gave in too much.

“i don’t need your help,” you insisted. “i protected you from kelli, and you gave me the sword that saved my life. we’re even.”

you started to limp away, but luke grabbed your side before you could get too far. you yelped at the contact.

“sorry,” he winced. “just — let me at least get you to a hospital.”

“what do i look like, a rockefeller?” you scoffed, and then grimaced when it felt like a giant was crushing you from the inside out. “i can’t afford that. i have some emergency nectar and ambrosia at my place, anyways.”

“let me at least get you back there, then. please.” he grabbed your hand. “i owe you.”

looking into those deep brown eyes, something in your stomach snapped. 

bad habits were always the hardest to break.

“fine,” you coughed. “but one wrong move, and i swear: i’ll go full vampire slayer and pierce a wooden stake through your heart.”

luke nodded once, lips curling into a smile. “seems fair.”

you groaned as luke wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, his hold terribly familiar as he carried you back home. 

(vii. he loved you — and you weren’t sure if that was a fact or a weapon)

your apartment was only a few blocks away. luke must have gotten stronger, because he was able to carry you up the fire escape to avoid too much attention.

“i’m not sure if my roommate is home,” you whispered as luke set you down on the carpet by your bed. “so we should try and be quiet.”

you told him where you kept the supplies. he snuck away and emerged from the bathroom a minute later with clean hands and a first-aid  kit.

luke knelt down in front of you. 

“can i take your shirt off?” 

you nodded, trying to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. you were so bloodied up, more so than you initially let on, so you let luke do whatever he needed to do. he took off your shirt, assessed your injury and apologized when the pressure from his fingers made you wince. he wiped the blood off your lips and coaxed your mouth open to feed you some ambrosia, offer you a sip of nectar. 

there was no doubt about it: luke was taking care of you.

at first, you imagined your bones stitching themselves back together, and maybe some pieces of your heart, too. 

what were the odds that he was manipulating you, though? certainly not zero.

and then you noticed something when he reached over to place the canteen of nectar back with the kit. he was moving slowly, his breathing shallow and fresh blood seeping through his shirt.

“wait. what happened?”

“nothing,” he winced. luke was always good at hiding his pain.

“luke.”

“it was a few days ago. a hellhound bit me when i was trying to escape from….”

kronos’ army. he didn’t need to say it for either of you to remember. 

wordlessly, you switched your positions, led him to prop himself up on the bed frame while you crouched in front of him. 

“can i take this off?”

luke nodded. 

the first thing you noticed was that his muscles were more defined, yet his body was more beat-up than you'd ever seen it. there was a pretty nasty bruise on his shoulder. your eyes traveled down to the bitemark at his hip, and the haphazard stitching job luke must have done to himself. it looked like it could be infected, and with the activity from today, it was no wonder the wound reopened.

like he had done to you just seconds before, you took care of him.

“so…how are our friends?” he exhaled as you ran a cloth over his skin to clean off some of the blood.

our friends. it didn’t feel right that luke could still call them that. 

“i’m guessing you know what happened to chris….” luke grimaced, and you hoped he felt a little guilty at sending one of his best friends into a madness-inducing labyrinth. “clarisse and lena broke up, and neither of them will tell me why. beck is doing fine, always coming up with stuff in the forges. i guess that’s as good as anyone can be now, inventing new weapons for a war none of us wanted.”

you couldn’t help but add that last part. 

“and the kids?” luke asked as though you were divorce parents and he lost the custody battle. 

you looked up at the gray streak in luke’s own hair, remembering that he had manipulated annabeth and percy to hold the weight of the world, a burden that they couldn’t seem to shake.

it made you more than a little uneasy, luke showing any sense of caring for the people he seemed to leave behind and hurt so easily. you wished he hadn’t been so tender and attentive, like all the fighting and animosity had been a bad dream. 

luke just had to make everything so complicated.

“they’re fine, all things considered.”

you didn’t offer anything more, anything less. 

he was quiet for a moment.

“you seem to be doing alright, though?”

you ignored the question completely that time, focusing on getting the job done. you gave luke some ambrosia and nectar, watched as the infection magically disappeared. the wound didn’t completely heal, and there were many bruises that lingered. you were about to give luke some more when he shook his head. 

"you should save the rest for emergencies," he suggested, chin jutting towards your diminishing supplies. "in case something happens."

"is that a threat, castellan?" you asked, only half-joking. 

"no." luke reached out to touch your face, perhaps a move to reassure you, but then he redirected himself. "besides, i'll be fine. just need to cover it with some gauze." 

"you should take a shower before, then. i'll see what we have to eat." 

you helped him up, and sent luke into the bathroom. you changed into clean clothes before going to look for some food.

the ambrosia and nectar made your body feel more powerful than it had in days, even before getting kicked around by a demon cheerleader. no wonder the gods felt invincible, if that was their diet. meanwhile, all you had in your kitchen was a half-empty box of cinnamon poptarts and packets of instant coffee. 

you could hear your roommate singing from behind her closed door. you were quiet in toasting the breakfast pastries, and then slithered back into your room to look for something that would fit luke.

luke didn't hear you knock, so you just entered and closed the door behind you gently. on the bathroom counter, you set a pair of sweatpants that an ex had left behind, along with an oversized shirt of yours. before you could leave, there was a knock on the door. luke heard this one, and poked his head from behind the shower curtain. you gestured at him that you’d take care of it. he nodded, and closed the curtain again.

"yeah?"

"do you have any tampons in there?" your roommate's voice was muffled through the door.

"yeah," you replied. "i'll be out in a minute."

"do you mind if i just come in now? i'm bleeding out, out here." 

you were about to protest, but the doorknob started to turn, and you panicked. you slipped behind the shower curtain with luke, who looked at you wide-eyed. you placed your hand over his mouth before he could say anything. 

you were lucky earlier, that stella's mind was so preoccupied she didn't notice how beat-up luke was. you didn't want to take another chance. you didn't need your roommate asking questions. 

once the sounds of shuffling through cupboards stopped, and you heard a small thank you followed by the door closing, luke bit your palm.

"ow!" you hissed, pulling away from him.

"she's gone,” luke shrugged. “you don't need to muzzle me anymore.”

you rolled your eyes. “i put some clothes out for you, and a clean towel.”

luke caught your wrist before you could leave. 

“wait. my shoulder is killing me. do you mind…would you maybe help me….” 

his question trailed off, and you furrowed your brow when he pointed the shampoo bottle in your direction.

“you practically carried me down 3 blocks and up 4 flights of stairs, but you’re too hurt to wash your own hair?”

“i guess the pain just caught up with me.” his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “sorry, i shouldn’t have —”

something pinched in your chest, hearing him stumble for forgiveness, even if it was so mundane. you caught yourself saying:

“i’ll do it.” 

before you could decide if it was a bad idea or not. you got rid of your shorts and tied your shirt up around your waist to prevent the clothes from getting too wet. luke blushed even more at your panties and exposed stomach, as if he wasn’t fully naked — which you were, of course, trying to ignore.

neither of you said anything as you focused on the task at hand, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into luke’s curls until they were rid of the grime trapped within. all you heard were luke’s soft sighs as your fingers scraped across his scalp and steady stream of water hitting the bathroom tiles. luke seemed so relaxed that his eyelids fluttered closed, and he almost toppled over. with your own sudsy hands, you brought his hands to sit at your waist, steadying him. 

the space was a little foggy, slightly too warm. you and luke had been intimate before, but never like this. it was almost enough to make you forget.

once all the soap was washed away, you brushed your fingers over the scar on his face, down to the sword tattooed along his collarbone, before you realized what you were doing.

“sorry,” you whispered, pulling your hand away.

“it’s okay,” he hummed, and he moved his hand up to brush against the very same tattoo you had on your sternum, touch burning through a layer of cotton.

you wanted his hands elsewhere — around your neck, between your legs.

the water was running cold by then, and it jolted you back to reality.

you had to keep your desires in check. luke was manipulative and cruel and ruthless — you were enemies, not friends or lovers. you weren’t supposed to want him carnally.

you reached behind him to turn the shower off without another word, and left the bathroom so he could get dressed. 

neither of you were armed, but the situation was dangerous. you were barely healing from the claw marks luke left on your life and yet…. 

part of you wanted him to dig his fingers back into those wounds — to feel him again, even if it bled you dry in the end. 

luke’s sword, backbiter, leaned against your windowsill, a menacing reminder of who he had aligned himself with. luke was essentially kronos’ right hand man. he was your enemy.

what were you doing, bringing him into your home, taking care of him and letting him do the same to you?

leaving yourself vulnerable to him, letting your guard down?

now that you thought of it, if his guard was down, you could probably grab your own knife and just —

you heard luke clear his throat and you turned to see him standing in your doorway, shirtless and sweatpants hanging low. it was embarrassing how much you wanted to lap up the drop of water traveling down his chest.

luke must have noticed, so cleared his throat again. your body felt warm all over when you met his gaze, and he gave you an annoyingly confident smirk.

“so, here’s the thing. i’m pretty sure you’re either thinking about wanting to kill me, or wanting to fuck me.” 

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but couldn’t help but play along. 

“sounds like you’ve accepted your fate either way.”

“well, i do have a preference,” he quipped. “i just don’t particularly care as long as it's in your hands.”

it didn’t get past you that luke was checking you out, too, eye trailing over the exposed skin of your legs and lingering on where the t-shirt hugged your chest. 

how bad would it be to, for one night, indulge? no concern about what was right or wrong, about titans or gods; no worries about what a prophecy foretold or which side of a war you’re on. 

just you and luke: giving into your own twisted desires, and dealing with the consequences later.

another droplet trickled down luke’s torso. it disappeared underneath the band of his sweatpants, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

you strode over to him, about to crash your lips into his when —

luke stopped you with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“no kissing,” he warned. 

“what’s the matter?” you smirked. “i thought you liked it when i bite. worried that you’ll turn away from the dark side if i do?”

luke swallowed thickly.

you were taunting him, relishing in how his breath caught in his throat and gaze seemed fixed on your lips.

it was cute, how luke tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in his voice. 

“no kissing. that’s my only condition.”

“okay.” you took off your shirt, positioned yourself on the bed to punctuate your point. “as long as you’re fine sleeping with the enemy, castellan.”

luke stared for a few seconds before accepting his fate. 

he caged you in with his arms, settling his hips between your legs. his lips traveled down your tattooed sternum, nipping and sucking and re-bruising your skin until he reached the waistband of your panties. luke pulled it up with his teeth, the elastic snapping back when he let go. you whined his name and he looked up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” his breath fanned over your navel, his nails digging into your hips as he waited for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel luke smirk against your inner thigh before sinking his teeth into it. you whimpered, and luke salved his tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. he positioned your legs over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him most.

luke manipulated his tongue and fingers in all the ways he knew ruined you. in return, you gripped his black curls, tightly, and uttered praise in all the ways you knew ruined him. 

“just like that, pretty boy,” you encouraged, practically melting into the mattress. it felt so good — dangerously good — to be devoured by luke. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

luke’s moan vibrated throughout your body and he became harsher, bringing you over the edge. he left a few more bites on your body on his way up to meet you and when he did, luke’s lips and chin were still shining with your release.

you leaned forward slightly to lick it up. you ghosted your mouth over his, and luke groaned when you pulled away.

“no kissing,” you mocked and ran your thumb over his tattooed collarbone. 

luke tightened his grip on your hips, surely leaving bruises for later. his eyes feral, his curls a terrible mess, when he grumbled:

“you’re such a —”

you twisted your calf around luke’s leg and you flipped your positions before he could finish his sentence. he grunted as his back hit the mattress. 

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll still take care of you,” you drawled, starting to trail your tongue down luke’s body, occasionally incorporating your teeth or sucking brutally, imprinting a constellation of bites and bruises. his skin smelled like your pomegranate mango body wash, and it was more than a little intoxicating.

you weren’t soft or gentle, because you knew how luke liked you — rough, raw, a little ruthless. luke once told you that the wounds you left on his body weren’t the type that left him bitter; they were the type of wounds he wished would never heal.   

in a moment of weakness, you left a kiss — just one — on the semi-healed wound on his hip. luke sighed at the gesture and reached a hand down to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. 

“i missed you so much, karma,” luke almost sobbed. 

slightly shaken out of your lust, you weren’t sure whether to smirk at the hold you had on him, or sob at the reality that you missed him too. 

sensing your hesitation, luke removed his hand and told you to continue.  

you made quick work of luke’s sweatpants. luke, already hard and throbbing, didn’t last long with your lips wrapped around him. you swallowed him whole, and then some. 

“always such a good girl for me,” luke praised when you were face to face with him once more. his thumb swiped over your wet lips to gather what you missed. you granted him access to push into your mouth, and luke groaned when you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his thumb clean. your teeth scraped the skin on his way out. 

what followed was a brief squabble over who should be on top. you won out. 

there you were, luke sitting up against the headboard, you on his lap with his length nestled in your cunt. you scraped your nails down luke’s chest, and then curled your hands around the base of his neck. he gripped either side of your waist, thumbs pressing circles into your skin encouragingly. luke looked up at you in awe, desperate sighs leaving his mouth as you rutted your hips against his. it felt sinful and wonderful, feeling luke buried deep inside you again, stretching you deliciously. the two of you exchanging animalistic grunts as you used the other's body, chased your high.

when you rolled your hips into his at just the right angle, luke’s moans turned into whines. 

“fuck it. please — kiss me.”

you stilled your hips, and luke whined some more. “are you sure?” you asked, breathing heavily.

luke nodded and gently moved you to lay on your back with him hovering over you. he leaned close, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. 

“please,” luke pleaded once more.

his brown eyes looked down at you with such hunger and passion, something deep within you ached. 

you kissed each other harshly, then. you still tasted him on your tongue and yourself on his. his sharp nose cut into your cheek, mouth attacking yours and vice versa. your nails pierced the skin of his shoulder as he resumed thrusting into you at a vicious pace. luke kept gnawing on your bottom lip until he made you bleed. you groaned, and he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to savor your coppery taste.

yes, luke could also be rough and raw and a little ruthless — which you always loved. but you knew, regardless, you were safe with him in that moment. all he wanted was for you to feel good.

you yanked his curls to force luke to look at you. he whimpered at having to detach himself from your lips.

“i missed you too, tiger,” you finally admitted, calling him that old affectionate nickname you promised yourself you would never use again.  “i missed you so fucking much.” 

luke gave you that troublesome smile of his. you connected your lips once more. you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer, and luke wrapped an arm around your back to do the same. 

it wasn’t long until you both reached your peak, collapsing back onto the soft mattress, chests heaving. you each lied down on your side, facing each other. you admired luke’s mess of curls, his swollen-kiss-bitten lips, the rose-petal bruises you had left.

you wished the post-sex haze lasted longer, but then luke had to disturb it by saying:

“what you said earlier — i never think of you as my enemy, you know.”

you sighed and covered your face with your hand. “luke —”

“never,” luke insisted. he inched closer, took your hand in his and held it to his chest. 

you were overwhelmed by his heartbeat, strong and fast, so you pulled yourself away.

“we’re fighting on different sides,” you pointed out.

you could’ve said more, but all the things that have been said and done already hung heavy in the air, reoccupying the space between you and bursting your brief moment of peace.

“but we’ve always been fighting for the same thing.”

maybe that was true.

in theory, you weren’t against overthrowing the gods. but you couldn't reconcile with everything luke had done, what he was willing to do. you couldn't let your friends and thousands of innocent people die in the name of divine beings who valued power and control over all else. you couldn't hurt or betray people you loved for the sake of revenge, regardless of who your mother is. you couldn't turn that love against them, the way luke had, in search of justice. 

deep down, you knew it wasn’t right to have him there in bed with you. if it was so wicked, sinful, treacherous — then why did you want him to stay?

“i’m not sure they have a word for what we are,” you concede, returning to the conversation moments ago. 

"i guess not."

you let luke bring you into his arms that time. you rested your head against his chest. his heartbeat still steady, but a little slower. you idly traced your fingers across the marks you left on him, and you avoided the ones you didn't.

"how's your shoulder?" 

"it's okay," luke sighed. he lifted your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "whatever we are: i love you." 

those weren’t the words that were meant to make you sick, but your stomach churned — with nausea or desire, you weren’t sure.

you moved to straddle his hips. your eyes glanced over a scar you didn't register until now. the cut you had sliced across his cheek that afternoon he tried to kill percy, and then ran away from camp. you had a similar one that he had given you during that same struggle. 

matching tattoos, matching scars. there really was no word for what you and luke were to each other. 

"i love you too.”

at some point throughout the night, with luke’s strong arms wrapped around you and your legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets, it occurred to you that luke must have tracked you down for a particular reason.

maybe he was here to convince you to join kronos' army, to help him overthrow the gods and burn the world as you knew it; maybe he was here to break your heart all over again, just for the sick thrill of it; maybe he did just want to have one more night together, enemies or otherwise. maybe, maybe, maybe.

luke’s soft snores lulled you to sleep, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the scales of justice.

you'd figure it out in the morning. then you'd decide whether or not he deserved a blade to the heart.

[bwat5-blog]

The Cost Of Humanity: The Price Caitlyn pays

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

The discourse around Caitlyn's fall from grace and eventual redemption continues to be all over the place. I honestly struggle to think of examples from recent media that can compare when talking about the complexity and humanity of her arc, yet people continue to paint her with their broad-stroke, virtue signaling generalizations. Things like this, are why I started doing this in the first place.

Because as much as I have come to love doing these deep dives, and these character analyses, and how I learn along the way and learn new insights from all of you, peoples determination in disrespecting such a masterfully crafted story that is so full of heart, and depth, offends me to my core. As I have said repeatedly throughout my posts like a grouchy nerdy broken record, GOOD STORIES MATTER.

This is not about ships, it is not about favorite characters, and it is not about your right to like, or dislike her character. If you feel questioned by this post, I am not questioning your opinion of a character, I am questioning your ability empathize and see the humanity in a twenty-four year old girl, who has had every pillar upon which she bases her perception of the world VIOLENTLY changed.

To that end, what I am discussing this evening is the cost of Caitlyn's mistakes regarding her assuming the role of Commander and what follows. This is not about how she redeems herself, although I have spoken on that and do feel they did a masterful job in achieving it. This is not a deep dive into her fall from grace, the causes, or rather or not I believe it was justified. This is solely to address the following tidbit of lunacy and all of its variations that are still floating around.

"So Caitlyn's arc is that she becomes a war criminal and gasses kids and goes full KKK and she gets to ride off into the sunset with Vi with the only consequence being an eye patch?"

Physical:

As the easiest of consequences to measure, let's take a look at the effects Caitlyn suffers to her body as a result of her mistakes. For this I will focus on the battle at the end of the show, although she is certainly wounded in various ways in the commune.

Maddie's Betrayal- We will speak more on this when I move to mental, but Maddie literally hits her in the head twice with a rifle stock. Concussions anyone? Skull Fractures?

Stabbed - Stabbed in the stomach with Ambessa's blade up to the hilt. Now I am not a doctor and freely admit that I know nothing about the severity in the wound in terms of placement. And in a world with shimmer healing and such things obviously we can't strictly hold to real world rules. But a simple google search suggested the following as possible long term complications of such a wound: " intestinal obstruction due to scar tissue adhesions, intra-abdominal abscesses, bowel perforation, delayed bleeding from damaged blood vessels, abdominal hernias, chronic pain"

Kicked- Kicked square in the midsection with a knife in her gut. Seems healthy

Head slammed into concrete- Ambessa using her skull-crusher legs sweeps Caitlyn off of her feet slamming her head into the ground (Please Note: Caitlyn is shown clearly struggling at this point tremendously to rise)

Kicked Again- Once again kicked in the midsection with a knife in her gut

Ankle- Ambessa pins Caitlyn's ankle to the ground by force and kicks her leg out from under her before backhanding her

Headbutt- After dazing her with the backhand, Ambessa full on headbutts her with her mask on

Kicked yet again- This time completely off of her feet

Loses her left eye- Her sacrifice to stop Ambessa.

Returning to the stab wound- She did all of this with the knife in her. Tearing and exacerbating that wound.

This was one fight. Don't mistake me, Caitlyn has become an absolute warrior as the show has gone on and is an amazing fighter. But she twenty four, and only a short time ago was still very much in her sheltered life. Ambessa Medarda is a LITERAL WARLORD.

Mental/Emotional:

**I'm sure there are things I'm going to leave off of this. But this is just what I am thinking of in the moment. This is NOT a bashing on her list. This is what I feel the kind and courageous woman we know she always been is going to have to work through in the aftermath.**

Violet- Thankfully she and Vi have found their way back to one another. And while I love their reuniting, I don't think its unfair to suggest there is still quite a bit of healing ahead of them. Vi was not without blame in what happened between them (not justifying what Cait did to her at all, just that neither of them are perfect and were going through a terrible time). But ultimately Caitlyn has to make peace with the fact that she left the woman she loves crying alone in that chamber, and that that heartbreak sent Vi into a spiral that very easily could have killed her. When you add to that the loss of Vander, Isha and Jinx in Vi's life these are all things a woman like Cait is going to struggle not to blame herself completely for.

Zaun- The early show does an excellent job establishing that Caitlyn does not share the classist and oppressive attitudes of others in her social circle. But at her most lost, she bears responsibility for the full military occupation of Zaun, imprisoning its citizens, and likely the death of more than a few at the hands of the Noxians who Caitlyn allowed to be there . And that is to say nothing of the actions of the strike team, or that it is Vi's home.

Maddie- The woman she invited into her bed to distract herself from the loss of Vi, came as close as someone could have to executing her right then and there. Someone she never realized was a spy, prepared to shoot her the back of the neck. I think the trauma here is obvious.

Death Toll- The deathtoll and destruction of the war are going to weigh on her. They just are. It is clearly not actually all her fault, But as I have stated, and as anyone who pays attention will have seen, Caitlyn IS A GOOD PERSON. Yes, I'm sorry, I know some of you want to pretend otherwise because you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon. But she is. And there is simply no way she does not feel the weight of the loss brought on in part by a woman she allowed to seize control.

Mental trauma from injuries- On top of the base physical component of her wounds, Caitlyn was quite nearly beaten to death. Speaking as someone who has been in a bad fight (nowhere near this obviously) it's not something you just forget. Not to mention the impact to her shooting which has been such a major part of her since she was younger.

I could go farther with all of this but you get the idea. Caitlyn is so.... so young. I and so many others have gone on at length detailing her arc, her grief, her trauma and all of the other components that make up this part of her story. I encourage you to read them if you are interested. This list of her suffering and of the suffering she will feel guilt for is not about what she does or does not deserve. As stated, that's not why I wrote this. I wrote this because as I stated in a much shorter look at this topic, you literally have to try to miss the consequences of Caitlyn's actions. You have to blind yourself in the name of being able to place whatever hashtag makes you feel righteous in condemning her character. If you want to say the reparations to Zaun were not fully addressed in the course of the show, okay I can give you that. But I would remind of you two things:

Caitlyn surrenders her family seat on the council to Sevika. For the first time as we understand it, the undercity now has a voice.

This show is not the end of the story. From the beginning Arcane has been our door into this universe, not out of it.

Listen folks, I'm not actually crazy. I understand it's a tv show. But as I have and will always continue to say, good stories matter. There is a reason fables and epics stretch back throughout our history as a species. Yes, of course for entertainment, yes of course to impart lessons or wisdom. But that belief that we can conquer our own darkness, that we can stand in the breach against those who would bring death to the innocent, and that can find redemption, these beliefs and many more have guided the best and worst parts of us for all time.

As always, thank you so much to any of you who take the time to read the rantings of a lunatic. I cannot express to you all the joy I have felt engaging in this community and celebrating this epic tale. I can't wait to see what they have for us next. Until next time, keep standing up for the stories that stay with us.