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the thrill of landing a clean skillshot,
the chaos of a 5v5 teamfight,
the sweet dopamine rush of hearing “DOUBLE KILL!”
He also discovered something dangerous:
that “just one more match” is the most cursed phrase in the universe.
His desk soon became a shrine to the grind—empty energy drink cans, half-eaten snacks, and a notebook filled with scribbles like:
“I will not tilt.”
“Jungler diff is a myth.”
“If I lose LP, it’s character development.”
After he played 47 games in a single weekend, his friends held an intervention.
“Feedarn… you haven’t blinked in ten minutes,” they said.
“I can’t blink,” he replied. “I’ll miss the engage.”
“Feedarn… you haven’t eaten today.”
He opened another can. “This is my food.”
“Feedarn… your win–loss record is—”
“DON’T SAY IT.”
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. . . . . . . . . \;;;::… . … .. .¨`-,;;:;;::;;::
Jag bjöd in honom till ett csgo-lan hemma hos mig. Han tackade ja och jag såg fram emot att han skulle komma. När han dök upp, tryckte han upp mig mot väggen och började nafsa mig i örat, jag kände hans styva kuk mot mitt lår. Jag slog honom på käften och one-tappade honom. Det visade sig att han var bög. Skum snubbe, lita inte på honom!