I would like all Americans (and everyone else) who are excited for the Superbowl to know: Before the actual Superbowl there's a live tournament on TV, here in Germany, called "American Ice Football".
It is exactly what it sounds like: American Football but played on Ice, in shoes with entirely smooth soles.
It's a tournament with 4 teams and they are called Eastside Ossis, Westside Wessis, Northcoast Naughties and Southside Smoothies and it's just hilariously entertaining.
They are carpet bombing Rafah. The over 1.4 million Palestinians in Rafah are being targeted at what is now 4 in the morning for them. They are posting their goodbyes.
While Americans are distracted watching the Super Bowl, Israel has chosen to begin bombing over a million Palestinians.
It’s timed too conveniently to be a coincidence.
There’s nothing we can do to stop this but please don’t be silent. Even if you’re watching the game, please use your voice to condemn genocide in this moment and afterwards.
While America is distracted with who Taylor Swift is sitting next to and watching zionist paid commercials, Israel is busy bombing 1.6 million people in Rafah.
Just so everyone understands: these are displaced civilians with absolutely NO WHERE to go.
And Israel has given them 2 options: Be ethnically cleansed or die.
Israel has planned its latest bombing campaign around the American consumer. They waited for the Super Bowl to begin before they launched a violent attack on Rafah Refugee Camp.
So between the noise of Beyoncé’s new album, Taylor Swift cheering on her boyfriend and Usher’s performance, we are viewing the corpses of dead children.
superbowl tn who loves football !! luke def does .
just imagining loser!luke get soo mad when his favorite team fumbles a touchdown, or when the ball is taken from his fav player and he just needs to calm down. and what a better time than halftime?
so like the sweet girl you are, you make no complaints when luke wordlessly and unexplainedly manhandles you onto your back spreading your legs. he kneels on the ground before you and throws your calves over his shoulders which are clad in a jersey reading his favorite tight end’s name on the back as he pulls your pretty little panties to the side.
usually, he would take his sweet time prepping you, teasing a little cruelly, but right now? right now he just wants to bury his face between your plush thighs, slobber a little mindlessly all over your pretty cunt. god, he’s so messy, too ! he’s paying little to no mind to your squeals and writhes as he just holds a strong arm to your pelvis, restraining you from trying to run away from him any further. “please, luke! slow down, sh-shit!” you moan in a high-pitched tone, the pop singer’s half-time performance on the tv now background static over the disgusting and bestial ways he’s devouring you like a wolf would prey.
everything is so primal and animalistic with the way his tongue fucks into you—because, its not because he’s desperate to drive you to pleasure, but because he’s found a vaguely familiar, warm, place for his worked tongue to dwell. he’s made you cum, what, thrice now? and not once has he stopped or even seemed to notice.
worse for you, he hasn’t resolved his anger yet, and as retribution for when you try to tug at his dark curls to dispel the achy overstimulation he’s caused, he slaps your agonized cunt and utters some filthy degradation before returning to his ministrations.
and when he realizes halftime has come to a conclusion and the game is back on, he simply presses a parting kiss to your sensitive little clit, sits back up onto the couch next to a heaving, crying, you, and glues his eyes back onto the screen in front of him; leaving you to limp off to take care of yourself.